-AS PER THE AMICABLE AGREEMENT OF SHARED INFORMATION THE FOLLOWING IS TO BE SENT DIRECTLY TO OFFICES OF THE POTENTATE OF THE RAKASH AND THE GALACTIC COUNCIL’S CONSULATE FOR TRADE AND CULTURE-
THE FOLLOWING IS A REPORT SUBMITTED AS REQUESTED FOR USE IN DETERMINATION OF THE POTENTIAL OF TRADE WITH AND/OR THREAT OF SENTIENT SPECIES #78439.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS OR USE OF THIS FILE SHALL BE MET WITH THE MAXIMUM POSSIBLE PUNISHMENT UNDER GALACTIC LAW.
As per protocol we shall begin with my undercover persona and her duties. So that accurate exfiltratration, collection and/or disposal can be carried out should the situation call for it.
To the humans I am Anne Orion, recent Anthropology graduate from Oroborous University on planet Namiel in the New California System. Anne has just arrived on planet Tülar in the Navadia system to study the effects of human occupation on a previously unoccupied, but habitable, world. She will begin her duties near the beginning of the next Solar period of Tülar’s Rotation. These duties appear to consist of observation of superiors during their work, the review of various documents for the purposes of finding and removing linguistic mistakes, and a janitorial duty to her work station. Given mission parameters this is an acceptable list of duties, I shall update it if it changes.
Anne is under the employ and tutelage of one Dr. Jamie Daniels an Anthropologist and Naturalist, though the humans do not use this term instead referring to him as “Botanist.”
Transition and insertion went smoothly and without any major hiccups.
Something I learned about humans during the process is that they occasionally open their mouths and inhale an abnormally large amount of air, which they call “yawning" when one human yawns, anyone who sees or hears it feels a sudden urge to yawn as well, they claim this is some form of evolutionary artifact from their days as pack animals. There is a gene that does not feel this urge apparently as multiple team members expressed jealousy that I must have it, as I did not feel such an urge. It is apparently not incredibly common, but not terribly uncommon either.
This planet is really showcasing the new terrain. These mountains are enormous.
For thousands of years, homo sapiens have been afraid of the unknown.
How could they possibly accept the ways of the homo alteras — the “other humans”?
– Game of Dice and Dominos | axeli
Gonna be posting on my art tumblr @axelishytato and on Instagram!
(Links in bio 😉)
ALL of season 2 in a single video to make it easy to listen to.
Devil’s Partner 1961 – A Sci-fi / Horror Movie Trailer
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Miss Osbourne (1981)
So, I figure it’s time to get a little personal here. The writing community I was a part of for nearly a decade just doesn’t feel welcoming anymore after coming off a four year hiatus. Life has definitely gotten in the way of my writing the past four years, but I’m at a place now where I really would like to find a community to call home again. A place where I’m able to speak freely, expressively. A place to collaborate and find solidarity amongst other creative individuals. I’ve began rewriting Resonant Darkness and just want to yell this story at the top of my lungs.
Here’s to new beginnings.
‘Is it still necrophilia if both of us are dead?’ (NSFW, zombie humor)
It seems like the parameters of acceptable behavior would be different under those very unique circumstances. How can it be an unnatural, carnal act of lust against nature if she and I are on the same pulseless playing field? Those are the surreal questions which kept me awake at night. My mindless, rotting brethren don’t sweat the small stuff like I used to. As a matter of fact, they don’t sweat at all. It’s more akin to a festering, putrid ooze of human gravy coming out of the pores.
For the most part, we just lumber about doing what the restless dead are apt to do. As a general rule, we seek to devour the flesh of the living. Walking corpses are nothing if not predictable but for reasons I can’t explain, I personally haven’t forgotten the sweet sensation of biological lust. The first time I saw her, she was gnawing on some screaming dude in a warehouse. I didn’t bother with him myself. He was too skinny, but I guess ‘Angie’ was more hungry than I was. At least that’s what I thought she said her name was. It’s hard to articulate words when your vocal chords are filled with wiggling maggots.
Anyway, ‘Anghaaaa!’ proceeded to corner him and went straight for the juggler. While she was bent over his expiring body, I couldn’t help but admire her well-formed derrière. I know, I know. It’s sexist to objectify a person’s physical attributes but let’s face it, none of our higher mental faculties are present any longer. The dead pretty much only have base, primal instincts left. You might be surprised but certain parts of me that weren’t already stiff and swollen, began to rapidly transform.
For a rotting corpse, she‘s pretty hot. That’s relative of course but by the looks of things, she hadn’t been dead long. Some of the other ladies around here are downright ‘ripe’ and bloated. Compared to them, she smells like a dainty flower shop. I wanted to approach her to introduce myself but didn’t want to interrupt her vigorous blood feast. The victim had already stopped bellyaching and had accepted his mortal fate. If I got too close, she might think I was trying to steal her afternoon snack. Instead I stood back and admired her flesh removal technique from afar. She really had a way with how she picked apart the bones.
Afterward, I waltzed over as ‘gracefully’ as possible (in my advance state of rigor), and offered my compliments. I didn’t even have to lie. She is one talented zombie. After a few moments for her higher brain function to kick-in and absorb my flattering words, she adopted a glassy-eyed semi smirk. That’s about as good as it gets on this side of the death certificate. ‘Angie’ had probably worn braces when she was alive. Her teeth were still relatively straight and free of decay. Her gums however hadn’t faired nearly as well. They were rotten and threatening to lose those perfect chompers.
She growled something completely unintelligible but I could tell she was interested in me. It was all in ‘the motion in her ocean’, if you get my drift. She lunged forward and made an impressive level of eye contact. Her clothes were in tatters and I could see the small of her back. I think ‘Angie’ mistook my unusual level of attentiveness as a sign that I might still be alive. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to eat my brain, or jump my bones. Once she got a whiff of my rank decay, she realized I wasn’t going to be very appetizing. Instead she switched to being ‘coy’. At least as coy as a staggering she-corpse could be.
I walked over and hissed seductively in her dangling earlobe. There was a short delay in reaction but when the stimuli finally reached her brain, she perked up enthusiastically. The corners of her mouth raised slightly. She enjoyed my flirting with her. Zombies don’t receive a lot of flattery as a general rule. I could still smell the lingering scent of perfume in her shampoo. It wasn’t fully overpowered yet by the familiar odor of putrefaction. I raised my gnarled hand to gently comb my fingers through her long, dark tresses. It was matted with blood and many other bodily fluids, but I think she was still ‘touched’ that I was trying to be intimate with her.
Her countenance softened. Then she ‘smiled’ and winked. That made me feel brave in my efforts to pursue her. I went in for a kiss but even that was a logistical challenge. We have exceptionally poor motor skills and no functional nerve endings. The first thing we did was to bang our faces together abruptly. It was akin the awkwardness of two teenagers trying to make out for the first time. Finally I managed to position myself in front of her face and align our slimy, oozing lips.
It felt absolutely amazing to have intimate human contact again, even if our biological imperative was past tense. Our lips rubbed against each other crudely like one of those coin operated ‘claw machines’ at the bowling alley. Angie uttered an enthusiastic gurgle that spurned me on. We continued to ‘kiss’ for several moments as the bodily fluids and decay went back and forth from my mouth to hers. I had to fight the instinct to avoid chewing her lips and face off; and I’m certain she also had the same temptations. I finally felt the courage to probe her mouth with my greasy tongue. She actually purred like a hungry kitten! Our tongues danced in each other’s mouths until hers detached from the back of her throat and I nearly choked on it.
Out of gentlemanly duty, I pushed it back into her mouth. She might’ve needed her tongue for a snack later, I reasoned. With our corpse make out session being such a success, I elected to take matters to the next level. I reached over and tried to unbutton her blouse. I gotta tell ya though, I wasn’t even good at that when I had normal eye-hand coordination. It was considerably harder with no sensation in my rotting nubs. She realized what I was trying to do and decided to help. Modesty and discretion are pretty much inventions of the living. She ripped off her shirt and bra in just a couple tugs, exposing her full breasts. That really stoked my fire. Living or dead, they were amazing!
All that was left was to remove her dangling pants. They were already in tatters. I grabbed the waistband and yanked as hard as I could. The material came apart in my hands! She looked up at me knowingly and grinned lustfully. We were about to ‘get down to business’. She reached over and tried to unfasten my jeans. Some of her fingertips were still intact so she was more suited for that job anyway. After fumbling for a few minutes, she finally managed to unzip me. Then both my pants and underwear fell around my shriveled ankles in a comical fashion. Can you imagine seeing an aroused corpse standing there without pants?
Her eyes lit up at the sight of my exposed manhood. Frankly I was impressed at myself. It’s no easy feat to summon an erection with no pulse and the rarity wasn’t lost of her. I heard her knees pop and she bent down for a closer inspection. Her teeth began to gnash wildly in a violent way which greatly worried me. There was definitely a look of pure lust in her gaze, but it seemed misplaced somehow. The problem was, with my pants and underwear around my ankles, I wasn’t able to back away very fast. That proved to be a serious issue.
She lunged forward and grabbed my member as if it was ‘the last brain in Brainville’. Her cold, dead eyes fixated squarely on it. The next thing I heard was the sickening crunch of her pearly teeth devouring my exposed ‘meatsicle’. Looks like I‘ll have to spend eternity lumbering around as a dickless rotting corpse with Polkadotted pants around my ankles and floppy shoes. Did I mention that I used to be a clown? I’m just thankful the dead don’t feel the same level of embarrassment that the living do. With any luck, someone alive will put me out of my misery very soon. Ugh.