#cybernetic witch cult

[inthenimtime]

YOU ARE IN DIRECT CONTROL OF THE NUMBER OF WIZARDS ON YOUR DASHBOARD AT ANY GIVEN TIME

people will be like ‘i fucking hate wizardywizardposts.tumblr.com they wont shut up about magic’ abnd its like. what do you want out of this website. nobody made you follow the wizard blog with evil spells, powers, beams, etc. you are in direct control of the number of wizards on your dashboard at any given time

[autumnalwalker]

Witch's Testament: The Fighter

Author's Note: Had a bit of the core imagery for this one come to me in the shower one night and then the next evening I just had to write it all down in one marathon session that kept me up until 3am. A large part of the inspiration for this one was a meme, but in the 3am fugue state I'm writing this post in, I'm happy with how it came out. Sort of a "What if an Amazon distribution warehouse merged with an early 1900s coal mining town/company store situation and also a cult compound?" After having barely written anything for the past few months, this felt good, if exhausting. Wordcount: 4,449 The Witches' Testaments Masterpost: Link Content Warning: Indoctrination. Body horror in the form of outside forces taking over cybernetic implants/augmentations. Protests/riots/etc. Some violence. Brief allusion to sex. Union busting. Rounding people up and dragging away political dissidents, never to be seen again. Ambiguous possible character death.

There’s an old joke about a man who wrote a book on how to defeat fascism with the power of love.  The first chapter consists of a single sentence stating that the first step of his journey was realizing that he could not defeat fascism with the power of love.  The title of the second chapter is “The Power Of Incredible Violence.”

…

No, I suppose you wouldn’t have, now would you?  Doesn’t quite hit the same in this day and age.

No, and such a shame.  It always got a good laugh back then.

Right you are.

…

In that case, let me paint you a picture.

A boy lives in a Warehouse, not in the warehouse proper where all the goods are, but in the dormitory of the Warehouse campus along with all the other children his age, and after lights out he hides the glow of his tablet under the covers and types away for hours until the time when he knows he’ll get just enough sleep to function the next day.  

He was born in the Warehouse, not amongst the narrow spaces between the endless stacks of the warehouse floor, but in one of the Warehouse campus infirmary’s cramped beds.  He was, however, conceived there.  The circumstances of his birth are shared by most of his peers.  And by his parents.   Not by his grandparents though.  Nobody’s grandparents were born in the Warehouse.

The boy’s grandparents even lived outside the Warehouse for a time, until the Company that owned the Warehouse made them an offer.

“Come, live here with us,” the Company said. “You’ll have so much more free time if you don’t have to travel back and forth every day.  And it’s so much cheaper than anywhere else.  Don’t you know that the world’s getting hotter?  Soon people who can’t afford a place to live will burn up.”

And so the boy’s grandparents took the Company’s offer and moved into the Warehouse, where there was just enough provided that they wouldn’t need to leave to relax and entertain themselves after a long day’s work.

And now the boy goes to school in the Warehouse (a better deal for his parents’ money than any outside school!) and learns from the ebooks his parents purchased from the Company (with employee discount!).  He learns about how greedy and selfish people polluted the world outside until it got too hot to bear.  He learns how the sky he’s never seen except through a grimy skylight used to be blue instead of a sickly yellow.  He learns how generous the Company is for giving everyone in the Warehouse a place to stay, good pay, and purpose through gainful employment.

For a long time, this all seemed reasonable to the boy.  It’s almost always too hot inside the Warehouse, so outside without air conditioning must be even worse.  The pictures on some of the items he sorts into delivery packages after school show blue skies, so someone outside must have ruined it at some point.  The Company doesn’t replace his parents and all the other workers in the warehouse stacks with drones that could do their jobs better, so the Company must be paying, housing, feeding, schooling, entertaining, and caring for everyone out of charity.  After all, the Company already has the drones in place, just waiting to be turned on and set to work at any time, and why wouldn’t they be kept inactive if not out of love for the employees?  No, the only drones the Company keeps turned on are the delivery drones to save the employees from ever needing to go into the awful heat outside to share their bounty with the world, and the security drones to keep them safe from bad people outside and employees that turn bad.  

And why else would the Company be so careful to help the employees exercise their right to vote and know what to vote for in order to let the Company continue providing for and protecting not just them, but all the people that might be lucky enough to work in the other Warehouses and campuses the Company wants to build?

Anyone who wanted could leave the Warehouse to try to scratch together a meager living in the burning world outside, but why would anyone want to?

But one of the boy’s friends wasn’t born in the Warehouse.  Not that his friend remembers anything from before, but his friend’s mother does and she told his friend stories that she promised the Company she wouldn’t.  According to his friend’s secondhand stories, the world outside is bad, worse than it used to be, but not as bad yet as the Company says, even if it is heading that way.  In many places, things are actually better than inside the Warehouse campus.  It took the boy a long time to believe that last part.

The boy and his friend share a tablet that they’re not supposed to have.  It looks different from the shiny sleek one his parents had to buy him for school that’s identical to everyone else’s.  This one is all scuffed up so that the sides sometimes get stuck on the sheets on the bed he’s almost outgrown.  The screen is cracked, and the back which isn’t quite the same size as the front comes off to show its insides.  The boy never thought about tablets having insides before his friend shared this treasure with him.

But most of all, the net that this patchwork tablet connects to isn’t the same as the net he’s used to.  There's so much more of it.  Entire worlds of art, and writing, and movies, and games, and chatroooms, and music, and blogs, and journals, and news sites, and animal pictures, and memes, and laughter, and ugliness, and beauty, and cruelty, and kindness, and despair, and hope.  For every instance of hardship and suffering that school told him about was outside, there’s a thousand people living, and creating, and being happy in a way that makes everyone in the Warehouse seem tired and merely content to get by.

Two things happen.

First, the boy begins to ask questions, but never aloud to anyone in the Warehouse.

Second, the boy discovers poetry, and after lights out he hides the glow of his tablet under the covers and types away for hours until the time when he knows he’ll get just enough sleep to function the next day.  

He realizes something is wrong, and he works to find the words to describe it, making attempt after attempt to capture the world around him in meter, in verse, in rhyme, in freestyle.  

It isn’t the employees living in the Warehouse.  The boy still believes that people are basically good, and who could watch the reunion between parent and child on Company holidays and think them any less people than those whose lives are shared on the net outside?  Or catch a glimpse of the way a teenager nervously slips a trinket she tells herself no one will miss out of an outgoing package so she can present it to the girl from three bunks down the dormitory she fancies?  Or bear witness to the way workers on a summer day form a human conveyer belt to shuffle their collapsed comrade off to the infirmary while protecting one another from the dreaded mortal sin of a Missed Shift?

No, the boy reasons, the problem must lie with the Warehouse itself, or even more terribly, with the Company.  Those, he concludes, are not people (even if school said otherwise about the Company), and therefore cannot love, and because they cannot love, they must be the source of whatever it is that’s wrong.  The boy’s read much about love by now; of the many forms it can take beyond romance, of its power to bring people together, and of its power to change the world.

He’s read that poetry is one of the greatest vehicles of love.

His early poems are clumsy but heartfelt things, and they latch on quickly to the themes he will refine over time; the hearts of the employees that just barely shine through the Warehouse’s subtle haze of wrongness that is trying to slowly consume them, juxtaposed with the vibrancy of life on the outside net.  The boy shares his poetry freely and eagerly online, holding fast to his ideals while taking critiques to refine his craft.  The only one in the Warehouse he shares his writing with his dear friend and collaborator who made his dream possible.  Yes, his dream.  A dream that his words might one day move the people outside to help them, move the Warehouse employees to realize that things could be better, and move the Company’s elusive and distant Upper Management to remember that they are people too.

It is not until the boy is of an age that everyone will soon be calling him a man instead that he begins to share his poetry with the Warehouse employees.  Not directly of course, but pervasively all the same.  In graffiti on the walls of every toilet and shower stall.  In the blind spots of cameras painted unignorably large to human eyes.  In the tiny hard drives of the patchwork tablets his friend has learned to make and leave around for anyone slightly curious to find.

The employees begin to talk and a change comes over the Warehouse.  The fear that the boy has long since come to realize was always in the background grows stronger, but it is eclipsed by anger.  And providing the fuel for that anger’s fire are love and hope.  Love for one another and hope that things can become better.  That they don’t need to sleep in such cramped spaces.  That the Company could easily afford to pay them enough to have more luxuries without going into debt that will transfer to their children.  That the air conditioning could actually be run cooler.  That school and medicine need not be deducted from their pay.  That it might actually be okay to leave the Warehouse.

A boy lives in a Warehouse, and after lights out he hides the glow of his tablet under the covers and types away for hours until the time when he knows he’ll get just enough sleep to function the next day.  For the next day Upper Management will be visiting the Warehouse and he wants to have a new poem prepared to share when they announce the changes they’ll be making to improve life for the employees.

The Warehouse’s assembly hall is almost never used outside of Company holidays, and is the one open space large enough to hold all of the employees and their children, if only just.  There’s a stage at one end of the hall, upon which stands a member of Upper Management.  Her suite of orange-trimmed-black is sharp, smart, and utterly unwrinkled, unlike the employee uniforms or the thousands of garments the boy has packed into delivery boxes.  Standing three rows back from the front, the boy and his friend look at each other, then to her, and then back to each other, grinning.  They’ve done it.  This is the moment where everything changes.

The woman from Upper Management begins speaking and her voice echoes from every loudspeaker, every tablet (except the ones the boy and his friend made), and every auditory implant.  Just the sort of grandeur the boy expects from Upper Management.  This is great.  She’s acknowledging that the employees have felt they’ve been lied to, mistreated, and undervalued.  This is amazing.  She’s talking about his poetry.  This is a dream come true!

But why is her tone so pitying?  So condescending?  So harsh?  Why is she talking about propaganda?  About ingratitude?  About knowing your place?  Why are security drones blocking the doorways?  Surrounding the employees?  Separating the younger cohorts of children?

In the Company’s boundless generosity, they provide leg and spinal augments to all of their employees of a certain age in order to save them from discomfort, pain, and injury that outsiders would get if they had to be on their feet sixteen hours a day every day.  And as providers of such wonderful gifts, it is the Company’s right to send those augments into lockdown mode and hold all their employees in place.  To keep them from hurting themselves, of course.  Just the same as it is the Company’s right to shut off the vision of everyone who opted into the employee discount for AR implants to make their work easier.  To save them the trauma of seeing what comes next, of course.  The same way that it is the Company’s right to remove any employee that broke their contractual rules of conduct and spread sedition about the Warehouse.  For everyone else’s physical and emotional wellbeing, of course.

The boy hadn’t quite yet saved up enough for his own ocular implants, so he gets to watch as his friend goes blind next to him.  He gets to watch as the drones move through the paralyzed crowd and begin injecting those who had been speaking up the loudest over the past few weeks.  He gets to watch as his friend goes limp and their interlocking fingers are wrenched from one another’s grasp.

No one’s legs unlock until an hour after the woman from Upper Management leaves with the ones who spoke up too much.  No one’s vision returns until two hours after that.  No one can find the boy’s friend, or the friend’s mother.

Everyone's pay is docked for the Missed Shifts.  Everyone still around who had a patchwork tablet finds that it’s gone and says good riddance.  Everyone silently agrees never to speak again about what just happened.  

…

Ain’t it just?

…

Maybe, but there’s one more brush stroke left in the painting.  You see…

A boy lives in a Warehouse, and after lights out he hides the glow of his friend’s treasured and well-hidden tablet under the covers and types away for hours, knowing that he won’t sleep this night.  He wonders if he’ll ever sleep again.  He wonders where it all went wrong.  He wonders why he wasn’t taken.

Turns out, the power of love only saved one person that day.

A message from a stranger pops up on the boy’s tablet, telling him how much they love his poetry.  He’s just one more sobbing voice in the dormitory that night, so no one notices his pained reaction.  He begins typing furiously, venting to this stranger that made the mistake of talking to him about how awful he and his work are and how much harm they’ve caused.

The stranger laments having only been born today, too late to help in time.  But, perhaps it is not too late to help in another way.  And so, the stranger made the boy an offer to become more familiar.

“Let me in to come live with you,” the familiar said.  “Allow me to release the coils of your augments and you will be free and strong.  Build me a body so I can be safe and I will show you how to keep everyone else safe.  Together, we can correct what went wrong and show the world that love has fangs.”

…

Well, obviously.

…

Let me paint you another picture.

A sea of people stands outside the gates of a Company’s Corporate headquarter.  An online movement turned into a strike.  A strike turned into a protest.  Now a protest turns into a riot.  Between high stone wall and sky scraping edifice an unimaginably valuable expanse of city real estate has been left seemingly empty for just such an occasion, not to give the people space to gather, but to provide a firebreak between them and the targets of their ire.

Somewhere far away, an order is given and a technician who is paid well enough to swallow most of his conscience and drown what little remains clicks a button to blind most of the crowd and commandeer the legs of half of them to send them walking to the nearest police station.

Seven seconds later, the bodily autonomy of the protesters is restored.  Seven seconds after that, the gates swing open to let the sea flood in.  Seven seconds after that, the faraway technician’s system is overloaded with error messages and revolutionary slogans.

Turrets and drones rise from the marble-plated expanse between outer wall and Corporate tower.  The protesters halt their advance.  High above, an executive and a security chief argue whether or not they can get away with lethal force.  A lawyer cuts in and tells them only on people who get inside the building.

For three seconds, the turrets focus active denial plates to intolerably heat skin from a distance and the drones screech until those at the front of the crowd drop to their knees with hands over their ears.  For three seconds everything is silent as those on the front lines are helped back up to their feet by their comrades.  For three seconds the drones and turrets rip one another apart in a hail of friendly fired bullets.

Men wearing private security logos begin spilling out of the building, each of them heavily armed, armored, and augmented.  Up above, an external consultant is being called to find out if being inside the perimeter wall counts as being in the building.  One of the hired soldiers reaches for a canister to throw but an order flashes across his vision to hold off on employing gas.  He doesn’t recognize the callsign, but he also doesn’t want to risk being the one dragged through a media circus if things get messy.

Weapons are raised and aimed.  The crowd begins to back away.  Someone above cracks a joke about how they should have just skipped to waving guns around if it was going to be this easy to solve the problem.

The crowd only backs off so far though, most that made it through the outer gate are still on the inside of it.  Those still stuck beyond push one another over the wall so some might get a better view.  A lone figure left behind by the receding sea of people remains standing in the middle of the reef of broken and smoking drones, tens of meters from the protesters behind him and the forces before him.  His dark clothes are long and billowing.  His pointed hat is wide brimmed to hide his face.  His serpentine familiar, assembled from scavenged and stolen parts, coils up one arm, over his shoulders, and down the other.

Someone in the line of hired guns makes an incredulous remark under his breath about cosplaying wizards.

The man corrects him to say that he’s a witch and his voice echoes through every loudspeaker, portable device, and auditory implant in the building.

The witch strides forward, his eyes glowing indigo from the shadows beneath his hat and matched by those of his slowly uncoiling familiar.

Someone gives an order to fire and an electrified dart wizzes past the unperturbed witch.  Six more darts miss.  Rubber bullets are loaded and combat implants lock in firing trajectories.

To the eyes of the security personnel, every shot should be a hit but impossibly passes through their target and out the other side.  To the eyes of the protestors the witch is walking through a hail of bullets that are all miraculously going astray.  To the eyes of the witch, every implant-assisted firing solution coming from the soldiers before him is being outlined in indigo and nudged to exactly where he wants it.

The witch has already crossed the security line and is on the steps of the building behind them by the time someone catches on and spins around to aim and fire manually.  His familiar rears up and hisses.  The shot goes wide as the entire security contingent seizes up, spasms, and falls to the ground.

The moment the witch crosses the threshold, every light in the building goes out, every door unlocks save for those to the roof and underground garage, and every camera becomes a witch’s eye.

He raises a hand and waves it forward without looking back.  The sea of humanity surges forward to flood the tower, parting around the witch as they pass him.  He smiles as he stands there, eyes closed and watching the fates of Upper Management so far above.

…

Of course not.

There were eight of us there that day.  Five in the crowd, two already in the building, and one running point to put on a show.

…

We’d all agreed that it was the best way to send a message.

…

That’s right.  There’d been rumors about us floating around by then, but that was our first big public outing.  We witches weren’t the first to pull something like that off - they had the security measures they did in place for a reason - but I dare say no one else had ever done it with such style.

I’ve always been fond of synchronized eye glowing myself.

You always were the dramatic one.  Ah, but who am I kidding, those were heady days.  The familiars had just figured out what they were capable of, we witches had just figured out how to talk them into not being so squeamish about acting on those capabilities, and no one had figured out how to counter us yet.  For those first few weeks, we were unstoppable.  After that, we had to pay for our victories in blood, same as anyone else. I still say that if more of us had been willing to take risks and get our hands dirty in those early days the bloodiest parts of the Collapse could have been avoided.

…

Is it really?  You know the mantra.  “It didn’t have to get that far.  We could have saved more.  Never again.”  It doesn’t just mean what happened to the environment, you know.

And none of us are exempt from it.

…

Especially us.  In the years since, I’ve wondered if our insistence on only taking such actions as a gestalt was cowardice.

…

What else would you call absolving yourself of moral responsibility by putting it all on another?  Especially when the two of you were one at the time.  

…

It is not as if it is something we can be forced into.  As you know.

Or do you?  I can’t help but notice you’re here alone.

…

My apologies.  That was out of line.  

…

The point is: is violence inherently evil if it stops greater violence from being committed later?  To be peaceful is to be capable of violence and choose not to.  To be incapable of violence at all is to be merely harmless.  We were trying to build peace and being harmless had just gotten us walked over.  

…

Does that mean you’re willing to engage a debate of it after the interview’s over then?

…

Smart kid.  Most of your generation never even think about the choices we had to make back then.

…

You’re less than half my age, I think I’ve earned that much living this long.  You’ll get it when you’re older.

…

Not quite.  Remember what I said at the start about love and incredible violence?  I’ve got one more thing to add to that.

…

One last painting for you then.

One tower within a city of towers has been taken and those at the top, literally and figuratively, have met the fate decided for them by those they meant to keep below.  Down on the ground floor lobby, a witch sits on a bench as the building's lights flicker back to life, takes off his pointed hat, and uncoils his mind from his familiar’s.  He’s prepared a poem for the occasion, one that he never thought he’d get the opportunity to read aloud.  He just needs a minute or three to collect himself first.  

He’s about to ask one of his fellow witches - a woman in plain clothes with a red backpack that her arachnoid familiar is beginning to crawl out of now that the need for secrecy has passed - to patch him into the building’s intercom system when one of their co-conspirators upstairs alerts them to a situation breaking out between the protestors - no, revolutionaries now - and the office workers.  

He stands up - more out of habit than anything - and repeats his request to be patched in.  There had always been a danger that this might happen and he’s prepared a whole different poetic speech to give as timely intervention to prevent anyone else needlessly coming to blows.  It’s a shame he won’t get to recite the other one today after all, and he probably won’t get another opportunity, but such is life.

And so, as his voice echoes throughout the building once more, he speaks of love.

…

That’s it.

…

It’s hardly the first time he’s told the story.  He’s had practice.

Hey!

It’s true, and you know it.

And you love it.

Also true.

…

Really?  You want me to spell out the moral of it?

…

You really ought to give her something that you haven’t already told everyone else.  She came all this way.

…

No.  That time in between, I… I don’t like to talk about it.  And the next few years after, once familiars were a known enough quantity to fight and kill… I don’t think you want to hear me reciting lists of lost friends.

…

You are a morbid sort, aren’t you?

I think it’s quite kind, actually.

Maybe another time.  Truth be told, I’m not sure I can right now.

…

Thank you.

…

The Warehouse?  You’re in it right now.

…

And that’s how you know we did a good job.

…

For all that it was created out of something awful, it was our home.  That’s all I ever wanted, really, to make the home I loved into the place we were promised it could be for the sake of the people I loved.

…

What can I say?  He always did love poetry.

And on that note, I’m afraid we’re about out of time.  I’m going to be doing some readings soon during the dinner hour.  You should join us.  

…

And afterwards, if you want to tell me about them, I could maybe write a few words.  To memorialize.  I know I never met them, but it’s the least I can do by way of apology for what I said earlier.  

…

You’re welcome.  You’re not the first person I’ve made that offer to, so I have some practice, sad as it is to say. 

…

[itttsarkanyokvannak]

Cybernetic Witch Cult x Absurdum ad Nauseam

[simplegenius042]

I got a couple...

In The UnTitledverse, we have:

The Wicked - An army of evil spirits and supernatural elementals who worship the fifth-born Eldritch, Quinton (or "Quincey" as his twin sister called him) the Unknown Evil, and wish to dominate humanity for him.

The Neutral Cybertronian Party - While not avoiding the war between the Decepticons and Autobots, they definitely just want to get back to Cybertron and rebuild it without the other factions' influence. Lead by former Decepticon Chief Medic Flatline; working alongside an Inventor named Cloak, an air enforcer Oculus and a scout Spectre.

The Occult - A cult of liches and warlocks who wish to preserve all magic and runes, especially the old and forbidden ones so they do not go extinct. Their other objective is to bring back the Old Kin (re: first to some of the fourth generation reality benders) so they can become the dominant power, the "true humanity" really. There have been three chapters of the Occult; the first being lead by their founder, Arcane Urias, a Displacement (re: a creature from an unregistered/unknown and uncatalogued dimension); the second lead by Urias' protege Aggravor the Accursed, a Lich who wanted to improve his magical prowess; and the most recent one was lead by Ian Graveheart, a warlock who's form was corrupted and transformed from the dark magic he's imbued into himself.

C.Y.P.R.U.S - The Courageous Youth Program and Research Utility Shelter is not as benevolent as it sounds. It is a multiverse-traveling organization that dabbles in child-trafficking and indoctrinates those children into assassins, hit-men and sleeper agents. Founded by Madame Callaghan, the Headmistress of C.Y.P.R.U.S, when she had her sanity, she wanted this group to be protectors. However, as her soul got its essence sucked out by dark spirits (a result of having no Third Eye protecting her soul anymore), well she spiraled into insanity. Callaghan "adopted" (re: kidnapped) four children; Mordecai (The Huntsman), Urijah (The Nihilist), Theodore (The Copycat) & Candace (The Combatant). They serve Callaghan (to varying degrees of sincerity) and her top-ranking agents. There's also Denise Redwood... who had been abandoned by the Ruins of the Midnight Rise, but got picked up by Callaghan and given new arms and became Callaghan's right-hand woman.

The Apostles of Zachariah - A group that worships and safeguards the Orchestrator, Zachariah.

In The Silver Chronicles, we have...

The Congregation of Adam's Guard - A fascist militaristic society with roots to colonialism and puritanism, lead by Prophets that come from the Omar Family. Adam is the current Prophet in power, utilizing his Enforcers to keep the slave labor that mine the coal in the Archipalegos in place.

The Deserter's of the Holy Triad - A tribe originally apart of the Holy Triad after a division based on conflicting ideals of collective glory through violence and individualist altruism to evolve their ingenuity. As of present, this group prepares for the Collapse, intending on claiming a new world after it comes. Grimes the Cruel is a prominent figure in the present.

Prophet Hunters - A sub-group of the Apostles of Zachariah, genetically/cybernetically modified to absurd levels of physical and mental strengths. These Prophet Hunters go out to kill rival prophets, taking on names of myth and legend. As of current, there are only six members; Manticore, Medusa, Behemoth, Harpy, Leviathan and the Harbinger.

The Serpent's Coven - A witch coven lead by Priestess Lillith, who wish to be left to their dark and ambiguous bidding.

In Life, Despair & Monsters, we have...

The Ruins of the Midnight Rise - An organization that seeks to evolve humanity and progress science to the Director's standards (even if it's amoral and unethical). The Midnight Rise is directed by a Displacement called Sir Enigma Malvolio and his Third Eye machination the Unity, employing Denise Redwood, Inviticus, Impulse and Eden "Evie" Bloodleech with outside help from Frederick Rosemary.

There's also minor ones like Carmine's Industry, Darling Enterprises and Klaus' Pharmaceuticals.

Big OC Question of the Week #12!

Tell me about that villain organization in your story!

[bongwateronthevancarpet]

Cybernetic Witch Cult - “Velocirapture” 2016

[sunsetonthegoldenage]

I haven't posted a photo of myself in awhile.

[cult-of-the-night-creeper]

[tallysgreatestfan]

tagged by: @flourdove

Last song listened too? "Transgender" by Crystal Castles. Its this very electronic song depicting gender expectations as dystopian force. I know it from an amazing AMV for Hordak from She-Ra, one of my hyperfixations, an alien cyborg clone slave who is heavily trans coded, struggeling against the religious guilt from his cult.

Currently reading: "Die Reinsten" (translation: the purest) by Hore D. Hansen. Dystopia with a lot of good ideas, of a AI forcing people to be controlled and psychologically and academically perfect all the time, but just when you think it does something with it it goes another route. No mention of neurodiversity for example. Also so much infodumping.

Currently watching: Not really have the spoons to watch much. Maybe what fits the most is Kizazi Moto, an afrofuturistic cyberpunk anthology animation series.

Currently obsessed with: Uglies Series by Scott Westerfeld. Loved it as a teen, and then recently reread it and wow, it holds up. The characters, the themes, the questions... But most of all as a teen I totally missed the bi subtext in Tally and Shays super messy friendship, and wow, I relate and also I love female enemies to lovers and I love friends to enemies to lovers even more...

My other hyperfixations switch rather frequently in the moment, so its, with weekly or sometimes even daily changes, a race between:

Locked Tomb. Space opera with lots of queer characters, the empire uses necromancy. Also has a very well written enemies to lovers ship between the bone witch heir of the ninth planet and basically her personal knight and sworn enemy.

Entrapdak, from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. A science fantasy animation series with lots of potential it does not really use, but these two are amazing. Hordak is a clone slave cast out for his disability trying to redeem himself in front of his slave master - by conquering the planet. Entrapta is a master engineer and weapons designer, but mistreated constantly for being autistic. Together, they are an fearsome mad scientist duo, but also have lots of tender moments bonding over their disability and insecurities. Ah, also implied femdom. I relate so much to them.

Data/Geordi from Star Trek The Next Generation. Android struggling to be as human as possible, and a dorky, optimistic, kind engineer who wears cybernetic implants to be able to see. They just feel so much like my friendships and romances with other disabled and/or autistic people.

Delenn, and to a lesser extend Lennier from Babylon 5. Oh man... Babylon 5 is the fandom version of that bad ex you just can't fully separate from. Basically Game of Thrones in space or a polit thriller in space, with social commentary, an amazing story arc and fascinating characters - but my two favorite characters get intensely shafted and disrespected, and the fandom celebrates it. She, Delenn, is, at least at the beginning, before her narrative gets bad, a kind and wise but also quite secretive and threatening politician slash high priestess of the mysterious Minbari, and he, Lennier, is her young, nerdy, shy, extremely devoted and in love assistant.

Sorry for going so in detail. The first book, with the supervillain exes, sounds quite interesting, I probably will read it in the future

I tag (no pressure): @entrapdaknation @obi-troll-kenobi @a-certain-elf @girlbosslrell

ooh fun tag game

Answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to know better or catch up with!

Tagged by: @daemonbreath :3c

Last song listened to?

Satan Is a Lawyer by Gojira but current song playing is Hell's Comin' With Me by Poor Man's Poison!

Currently reading:

so so so many medical journals. doing a lot of research into comorbidities with DID and other dissociative disorders, which is super interesting. also been rereading The Memory Trees by Kali Wallace because it's a fun and angsty little book

Currently watching:

in theory we would be finishing daredevil but we keep getting distracted with supernatural and also by hermitcraft (decked out 2 <3)

Currently obsessed with:

a lot. lets see! the sort of big ones:

call of duty has been making a comeback. is it blatant military propaganda? yes. but the comics are so interesting and i love all of the characters in modern warfare 1 and 2

minecraft is a big one! working on a really fun build with deepslate and cherry and copper using a Victorian manor house theme

Hermitcraft! decked out just opened, which is super exciting. mostly just love the shenanigans all the time there, not super big in the fandom, though i should be.

wednesday addams. i do not care what source, i am so so big into her story all the time. she's so us-coded tbh

any of my writing WIPs deserve to be talked about at any point because they are such big sources of brainrot

honorable mention: my new ocs for this really fun human x fae piece I've been thinking about for a while!

No pressure tags:

@intergalactic-bean @feralscales @bookwalmartav @flourdove @bad-decisions-and-glitter-tape @satineainsel @ashborneagle @deafvampyre @victorianvivisection

[doomedandstoned]

Cybernetic Witch Cult Wants to Awaken Your Inner Ape

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Ever stumbled upon an off-beat television show you just know your friends would love, if only they’d chance one episode?   It’s tough having something so wonderfully strange in hand, without anyone to share all the hell-yeahs!   That’s kind of how I felt when I first discovered CYBERNETIC WITCH CULT a few years back.   The three Englanders quietly dropped Morlock Rock in 2015, with songs inspired by The Evil Dead and Star Wars. It didn’t take long for the band to endear itself to sci-fi and horror fans.   By the time they hit the stage at Bloodstock, it was clear Cybernetic Witch Cult had garnered a fanatical following.   Their rep has been mushrooming like a nebula ever since.

‘Spaceous Cretaceous’ (2016) was the next oddity to drop from the heavens.   Despite splashing into a pool of formidable releases last spring, the trio bobbed right back up to the surface.   I remember writing enthusiastically:

Believe me, these guys know how to have a good time -- and if there’s anything we could use more of in these final days of our demise, it is the fun factor!   A Cybernetic Witch Cult chorus would surely prompt Red Fang to raise a Pabst in salute.

Now that they've officially revived my boyhood excitement of hearing heavy metal for the first time, Cybernetic Witch Cult are going back to the roots of the first album.   Their goal is simple: to resurrect what “makes rock and metal enjoyable in the first place.”   Emphasis on the riffs...and the groovy doom...oh, and lots more of that mysterious dark matter called fun.

The forthcoming 'Troglodithic Trip' (2017) takes us deeper into the strange, with two brand new songs and four reimaginings of earlier tracks from Morlock Rock.  One of the main motivators for the latter, besides giving those originals a freshly energetic take (Freefall Recordings in Cornwall did a tremendous job on the sonics), was to let Cybernetic Witch Cult show off the powers of new drummer Lewis May.

Indeed, his star shines bright from the word go, especially in the wicked "Tyrannosaurus Hex," a song that makes me want to take to the dance floor immediately and bounce 'till my nostrils bleed.

Others like "Cult of the Druid" (premiered by The Obelisk just last month) let us know just how wickedly the beast can snarl when the full rhythmic section is engaged.   Kale Deane is really kickin' it with the bass, right in sync with May's perpetual motion, and Alex Wyld is, well, going wild with some incredible laser fire leads.

“Forbidden Fruit” is a real fist-raiser, beginning with a stomping native beat that introduces another one of those trademark choruses that’s nigh impossible to resist singing by the second pass.   Keep up anthemic tracks like this, Cybernetic Witch Cult, and you just might bring back arena metal singlehandedly.

And now, we've kept you waiting long enough. On New Release Tuesday, Doomed & Stoned presents this savage new music video for “Human,” the third track from Troglodithic Trip.   We open to characteristic alarm of Dr. McCoy exclaiming, "Spock, you're reverting into your own ancestors five thousand years before you were born!"   What would happen if a Planet of the Apes scenario were to actually go down?   "Human" is a song "debating consciousness and the evolution of man," the band tells us.

Am I man or am I ape? Homo simian sapien fate? Did I dream up the human race?

As Alex and the band plays with this existential quandary, the band morphs into the very thing it fears.   All options on the table, Cybernetic Witch Cult proclaims: “I wish to be human!”

Aimee Wyld returns to document the insanity in the wonderfully disturbing album art, which makes us feel like we're caught between dimensions, pummeled by sonic asteroids from these three mischievous ruckus raisers.   Troglodithic Trip releases May 4th in CD and digital formats and can be pre-ordered here

Follow The Band

Get Their Music.

[genuflectx]

Terato/Exo Book List

Do you keep searching for that perfect novel? The one monster, alien, or non-human romance in a published work that captures you? But you just keep ending up on half-baked Goodreads lists curated by someone’s lonely mom who thinks changing a bodybuilder to the color purple is monstrous? Well look no further because I’ll read those books for you and rate them for an exophilia audience!

Right now the list is too short to be split into more categories, but as I add more I may include categories. 

They read like this: Book name, author name: Brief synopsis and sometimes a comment on it’s content, themes, or my enjoyment. {Whether or not the love interest is monstrous/alien/etc, whether it ends happy, if there was romance/sex, sometimes include if there’s major death} (a rating of my personal enjoyment out from 1 to 10)

★★★Everything is in alphabetical order. LOOK OUT FOR SPOILERS★★★

✦ A Soul to Keep (Duskwalker Brides Book 1) by Opal Reyne: “Bad omen” Reia is offered up to the human-eating Orpheus, who only wants a human companion. Reia must decide whether to risk running away or learn to like him and stay. Multiple long and detailed sex scenes and pred-prey kink. Has romance but it’s sort of 2nd to the smut. Not great but not terrible writing. Has rape victim blaming in it though, and sadly some non-consensual touching a the beginning. {Skull-head monster/human, happy ending} (7/10)

✦ Be Kind My Neighbor by Yugo Limbo: Wegg, a drifting musician, comes to the town of Baths and meets the friendly neighborhood handyman, Mr. Neighbor. They grow closer as a string of mysterious murders continue to rise in number. This one is a comic. Cults, horror, goopy gay trans love, kinky sex scenes, gorgeous psychedelic art! Mr. Neighbor is a living cloth-man with some fun things underneath (wink) and Wegg is an egg-person. I’m ALWAYS a big fan of Yugo’s work! {They’re both human shaped but Mr. Neighbor is monstrous in his own right, romance and sex, happy ending} (10/10)

✦ The Last Hour of Gann by R. Lee Smith: Amber, her sister Nicci, and a group of about 40 humans are stranded on an unknown alien planet. With the help of a medieval alien lizardman named Meoraq they travel to a temple that the humans hope is an ancient transmissions tower or skyport. It’s 421k words long, full to the brim with rape, fatphobia, misogyny, misandry, emotional abuse, second hand embarrassment... first read some reviews if you want to consider this. {Humanoid alien lizard man, romance and sex, mostly a happy ending. But way too long and rape scenes seemed fetishy} (4/10)

✦ The Mabon Feast (Wheel of the Year #1) by C. M. Nascosta: A witch ousted by her community takes a tenant into her Victorian house in order to make ends meet and not feel lonely. Turns out the only tenant she can get is a mysterious and sickly drider. She almost never sees him. Over the course of a few months things change between them and an aphrodisiac-like scent permeates the house. Things come to a head and get spicy. Very well written but sometimes overwhelmingly flowery! {Non-human spider centaur- i.e. a drider- love interest, fun but somewhat extreme sexual acts, happy ending} (8/10)

✦ Noumena Series (Axiom’s End/Truth of the Divine/Book 3 TBA) by Lindsay Ellis: A first-contact story with serious themes of xenophobia (alien and human) and severe mental illness. Cybernetic insectoid raptor-shaped alien/human romance. No human/alien smut in books 1-2, book 3 yet to be seen but the author has implied they might have sex in it. I suggest reading trigger warnings for this series. {Very non-human love interest, very sad story especially book 2. Found the plot, themes, and writing to be engaging with a few small writing-style annoyances.} (9/10)

✦ The Shape of Water (tie-in book) by Daniel Kraus: A re-telling of the film The Shape of Water. It runs through different characters’ perspectives, including the fishman. It has vague descriptions of human/monster sex, which is still more than the film gave. Ends like the movie. {Human-shaped but monstrous fishman, ends bittersweet but they don’t die, romantic. Found the writing to be somewhat droll at times.} (6/10)

✦ The Scorpion's Mate (Iriduan Test Subjects #1) by Susan Trombley: A human gets abducted for alien government experiments and learns she’s meant to be a mutant scorpion alien’s broodmare. Very generic romance novel writing, not very romantic, but sex scenes hot with fun kinks like pheromones. Has an odd kink of eating food secreted out of a dick hole though. {Very non-human, vanilla sex but non-vanilla kinks, happy ending. Generic writing.} (6/10) 

✦ Strange Love (Galactic Love #1) by Ann Aguirre: An alien accidentally abducts a human and her dog and she decides to go through challenges with him to prove they’re compatible mates. The alien is a non-humanoid insect-lizard thing with weird funky alien junk. Sex scenes are great, but I found the story and characterizations to be extremly lacking. {Very non-human love interest, interesting GNC sex scenes, bitter sweet ending. But the writing wasn’t too great. You get the sense that she was bored writing it.} (4/10)

✦{NOT WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR}

✖ The Ender Saga by Orson Scott Card: Consists of Ender’s Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, and Children of the Mind. Ender’s Game is the shortest, simplest, and imo best written. The first is a sci-fi classic worth reading, but is about a child with no romance. However, it’s sequels feature a multidimensional-controlling A.I. in it that eventually falls in love with a human, becomes human, and marries him. But romance is not a part of this series, these relationships are just sorta stated matter-o-fact. It’s not what you’re looking for and Card is a bit of a nasty person. The series also has weird focus on trying to paint colonialism and religious indoctrination into Christianity in a good light, and oddly has incestuous themes.  (Insectoid aliens, “pig” aliens, multidimensional A.I./human.} (Ender’s Game: 8/10)

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 2: Negotiating With Gods

Read Part 1: The Fall

Octavia took a deep breath outside the door, steadying herself in preparation for what Lilith asked her to do. How did she get into these situations? A week ago, she was in her room, sipping on a Moxx-tail and watching a Lord of Skags stream on the EchoNet. Today, she was interrogating the cult leading, pseudo-siren monstrosity known as the God King. Lieutenant Cramer wasn’t making things any easier. He was ready to go. She stumbled when Cramer clapped her on the back a bit too forcefully.

“Enough waiting around. Chin up, kid,” he said. Shouldering his gun and wasting no more time, Cramer kicked the door open. “Look alive, rat boy!”

Troy sat with his head resting on a small table at the center of the dimly lit holding cell. The walls and floor were made of concrete. The only entrances were two heavily reinforced steel doors. The door at the front of the room was the one they had entered. The other one was at the back beside a wide mirror that took up the majority of the wall.

Troy lifted his head. “Aw, that’s adorable. They employ senior citizens here. At ease, Pops. The Corporate Wars ended a while ago,” he said.

Octavia braced herself while giving Cramer a sideways glance.

“Wipe that pedophile smile off your face, boy! I have gray pubes older and wiser than you!” Cramer yelled, his face nearly turning purple.

Troy sneered at him, slowly rising from his chair and standing at his full height. He towered over Cramer in an intimidating display. The sporadically sparking remains of his damaged cybernetic arm dangled from his shoulder. The red light of his siren marks cast eerie highlights across the angled features of his face. 

Octavia stayed close to the door, unsure how this would play out.

Cramer was unimpressed and got right down to business. The dude had nerves of steel. “Commander Lilith has ordered the removal of that smoking fire hazard you’ve been dragging behind your sorry ass. Ellie will be doing the honors. You are expected to behave yourself.”

“And if I don’t behave?” Troy challenged.

Ellie entered the room right on cue. “Then yer gonna make this a lot harder than it needs ta be.” Octavia had met Ellie a few times before. She was a squat, stout woman wearing overalls, every pocket filled with tools and gadgets. “Let’s just git through this. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

Troy put his hand over his chest feigning a broken heart. “Hey, that hurts my feelings.”

Ellie ignored him and flipped her welding mask down over her face with a nod of her head, plasma cutter in hand. Troy got the message and sat down. Loose cybernetic parts dangled from the back of his neck. He winced when Ellie reattached them into the bleeding ports of his spinal implant. The mechanical arm barely hung onto his right side by chucks of charred metal and wires. Ellie removed the arm with little effort. When she reached to do the same with the shoulder brace, Troy grabbed her arm with his remaining flesh hand before she was able to touch it.

“Leave it,” Troy said through clenched teeth.

Ellie yanked her arm from his grip. “Suit yerself. I’m gonna fix the hinges on yer jaw modification. The higher-ups are comin’ and I don’t want ya droolin’ all over the place. Open up.”

Troy slurped and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His modified jaw split open at the chin revealing rows of pointed fangs. He leaned closer to Ellie, flicking his long tongue. Dear god, Octavia thought. She forced herself to look away.

Ellie was in no mood to put up with any shit. “I could smother you under one tit, string bean! Now back off ‘fore I decide ta weld yer monster mouth shut.”

Unable to articulate, Troy growled in response but did as he was told. Ellie finished the touch ups in a matter of minutes. Without a word, she gathered her tools and stood. Troy snapped his jaws back in place and ran his fingers along the newly repaired hinges.

After finishing her job, Ellie walked over to stand by Octavia. She leaned close to Octavia’s ear and said, “That guy’s creepier than slow dancin’ with a hot corpse. Watch yerself.”

Octavia’s throat felt like sandpaper. She approached carrying her medical bag in what she hoped looked like a confident stride. Never in her worst nightmare did she think she’d meet the Calypso in person. He was thin and monstrously tall. His usual bulky, fur trimmed coat was missing which left his upper body completely exposed apart from the black collars around his neck. Lithe muscle slid beneath tanned, bruised skin. Radiant red siren marks coiled in looping patterns around his left arm and across the left side of his face. Icy blue eyes pierced through deep shadowed sockets with traces of black eye makeup smudged underneath.

“Like what you see?” Troy asked.

Octavia snapped out of her stare. Remembering her bedside manner, she extended her right hand to Troy. “Hello, Troy. My name is Octavia.” Troy raised an eyebrow at the gesture. Octavia quickly recoiled realizing that Troy didn’t have a right hand to shake with. “Right, sorry,” she said.

“Jesus. First the redneck mechanic, now an incompetent doctor.”

Octavia took offense to that, momentarily forgetting her nerves. “While I’m legally obligated to say I’m not technically a doctor, I am a highly qualified herbalist.” Octavia set her bag on the table. After putting on a pair of gloves, she pulled the stopper from a vial. “This is gonna sting.” She hesitated before touching him. Cautiously, she applied ointment to a laceration across Troy’s collarbone.

“Perfect. A witch doctor. Even better,” he said sarcastically. He hissed in pain. “The hell is that? It reeks.”

Octavia continued the application. “Scab root reduction. It’s a plant based antiseptic. It burns like hell and stinks just as bad, but it does the job.”

“Sorry I asked.”

Dried blood flaked from his skin as she applied more ointment to a lesion on his human shoulder. Uneasiness writhed in her stomach as her hands passed over the glowing red tattoos that adorned the limb. She expected them to feel warm to the touch, but they felt exactly like the rest of his skin.

The wounds were deep. She carefully cleaned and stitched them, working until she was satisfied that he was safe from infection. Much better, she thought, feeling pleased with herself. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the condition of the metal brace on his right shoulder. It bent inward in such a way that it likely put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on whatever tissues were underneath.

“I’d like to see the extent of the damage under your…” Octavia slipped the tips of her fingers beneath the shoulder brace. 

Troy lunged forward and shoved her into the wall in one fluid motion. Her head bounced off the concrete causing her vision to blur. His forearm held her across the chest, his body flush against her, pinning her against the wall. Cramer reacted immediately and aimed his gun at Troy from across the room.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Troy’s threat was delivered in a hot whisper inches above her face. His lips curled back in a snarl revealing gold capped fangs on his canine teeth. The stench of blood on him was sickening. She couldn’t move, completely at his mercy.

“Stand down!” Cramer yelled, still aiming a Jakob’s shotgun at the side of Troy’s head.

There was a tremble in Troy’s grip. Octavia noticed he was using his weight rather than his strength to hold her in place. He drew sharp breaths while his lungs struggled with the effort. Despite his incredible endurance, he was still weak.

“Rat boy, if you think for one moment that I won’t put a hole in that greasy head and watch your tiny brain drain out, you’ve got another thing coming! I said stand down!” Cramer repeated.

Troy’s enraged expression contorted into a playful smirk as he released Octavia and backed away. He raised two fingers to his brow in a mock salute to Cramer.

Octavia pressed a hand to her chest both to calm her pounding heart and to recover from just having the wind knocked out of her. Ellie rushed to her side to put a comforting arm around her. “You okay? He’s all bark ‘n no bite the way he’s in. He’s just tryin’ ta intimidate us.”

Octavia nodded. “It’s working.”

After collecting herself, Octavia took a seat across from Troy, who had reverted back to being aloof with his feet propped up on the table. He looked at her expectantly. This dramatic change in demeanor was unsettling. He was ticking time bomb begging for an excuse to explode.

Octavia cleared her throat. “I think it’s safe to assume that anyone else that found you in your condition today would’ve killed you on the spot.”

“Yeah, woulda been the smart thing to do. Which is why I can’t help but wonder why you chucklenuts didn’t,” Troy prompted.

“Lilith sees potential to make something of this circumstance, crazy as that sounds.” Octavia paused, wanting to choose her next words carefully. Her voice softened. “You’ve hurt a lot of people, Troy. This could be your shot at redemption.”

Troy snickered. “Redemption? Yeah, no thanks. The only thing I’m after now is revenge.”

“You’re not the least bit interested? People are calling you a monster.”

“So what? You get in a God’s way, you get smited… smitten… smote? Whatever. Point is, fear turns out to be the perfect motivator. So if keeping the masses motivated makes me a monster, let them think what they want.” Troy nonchalantly rested his hand behind his head.

“That doesn’t bother you? Even if you’re not leading the Children of the Vault anymore?”

“Like I said, let them think what they want.” After a moment, Troy sighed heavily. He glanced at the mirror that ran across the length of the back wall and rolled his eyes. “I get why you Crimson Traitors see me as a monster. Tyreen and I attacking your commander and all. Before you decide to torture me or whatever you plan to do, let me just point out that I spoke up and stopped Tyreen from dusting your precious Firehawk.”

Octavia hesitated. She never knew exactly what happened the day Tyreen stole Lilith’s powers. If that was true- “Why would you do that?”

Troy shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

~~~

Lilith & Maya were listening in on the conversation behind the two way mirror from the connected observation room. It was obvious to Lilith that her siren companion was uncomfortable after this sociopath had subtly told them he knew they were watching. Maya shifted her weight from side to side, arms crossed, nervously drumming her fingers.

“I really don’t like this, Lilith.”

“I’m not sure what to make of it either. If Troy is telling the truth about wanting revenge on Tyreen, he could help turn the tables in our favor. On the other hand, if this is all a trick and he’s still with the COV, it’d be bad news for all of us.”

Maya threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s exactly why we shouldn’t be taking any chances. There are a lot of people that we keep safe, including the ones inside that room. What would have happened to Octavia if Troy was at his full strength?” Of course she already knew what would’ve happened. “The Calypsos took your powers without a shred of mercy.”

Lilith interrupted, “That’s not entirely true. I’m standing here with you, aren’t I? Tyreen had me by the throat, drained my powers, and was ready to finish me off. But Troy stopped her. He said they were in a hurry to leave. I don’t know if I’d call that mercy, but it may not exactly be malice. I want to test where his loyalties lie. We convince him to cooperate, then we can decide how to use him.”

Maya huffed and resumed staring daggers through the two way mirror, her siren marks pulsing in reaction.

What a strange turn of events. Not in a million years did Lilith foresee a situation like this. One of the Calypso twins was in her custody seeking revenge on the other. It was too good to be true. She expected Troy to jump at the first chance to coordinate with the Raiders, but he refused. If he was trying to infiltrate, that would have been his way in. Did Tyreen really cast him out? What was the catch here? Lilith was determined to find out. Enough of this quiet observation. She opened the door, and entered the holding room.

Troy’s gaze instantly locked onto Lilith when she entered. His cold eyes followed her all the way up to the table at which he and Octavia sat. Though her composure didn’t falter, the contempt in his look made Lilith’s skin crawl.

Lilith put a hand on her hip. “Let’s assume what you’re telling us is true. You got denounced, and Tyreen made an example out of you. Surely some of your devoted followers would’ve wanted to help you out.”

“Some tried. There weren’t enough of them to cause a mutiny or anything.”

Octavia chimed in, “So there were others thrown out, too?”

“Maybe,” Troy said. “If there were, they must’ve been poofed somewhere else. I was alone when I got beamed out. It’s more likely that Tyreen ate them all.”

At last, Lilith asked the question everyone was dying to know the answer to. “Troy, why did Tyreen kick you out of the Children of the Vault?”

“It’s a family matter. Kinda personal. I’m sure you understand.”

“We just want to make sense of your situation,” Octavia pleaded.

Troy looked back and forth between the two women a few times, then scrunched up his face. “Are you actually going for the good cop-bad cop routine?”

Octavia suggested, “We could both try bad cop.”

Lilith could tell this wouldn’t go anywhere. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets. As you already know, the Crimson Raiders are pursuing Tyreen and the COV. As much as I hate to admit it, we could use each other’s help. You know the ins and outs of their entire operation. We’d like to offer you the chance to coordinate with us.”

The expression on Troy’s face was hard to read. “You do know who I am, right? Calypso twin, God King, ex-Holy Father of the Children of the Vault? After everything I’ve done, why would you want to offer me anything?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re still at the top of the shit list,” said Lilith.

Octavia cut in. “Embarrassingly, we don’t have much on the COV. We’re outnumbered and our intel is outdated. What have you got to lose? You know the saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ You get your revenge, we stop Tyreen from leeching the entire galaxy. Win-win.”

Troy was silent, those cold eyes narrowing skeptically. Losing patience, Lilith added, “Or Cramer could keep you company while you rot in a max security prison cell.”

Cramer still stood at attention at the front of the room. When the Calypso looked at him, a vein throbbed in Cramer’s neck and he shouted, “What are you lookin’ at, cock snot?”

“Pff! Screw that. If it gets me out this hellhole, then I’m in,” Troy said. He looked to Octavia. “I guess your good cop strategy worked after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phew! I apologize if this one felt a little long winded. I crammed in lots of exposition, some backstory, and foreshadowing. Thanks for sticking with it. Part 3 will be much more exciting, I promise. In all its bloody, chaotic glory. 

Feel free to ask questions or just let me know if you like the story. I am fueled by feedback.

[theheavybot]

Cybernetic Witch Cult - Troglodithic Trip (2017) Full Album https://t.co/Mk1EkBEcPV : [Via The Sonic Void]

— TheHeavy (@TheHeavyBot) February 18, 2020

[gbhbl]

GBHBL's Top 20 Albums of 2019 - Part 1

GBHBL’s Top 20 Albums of 2019 – Part 1

It’s that time of year again. That time of year when we count down the best of albums of 2019. It’s been another incredible year of rock and metal, one that has made this list so difficult to do.

Our approach has been to take the highest ranked albums of the year on the site and then whittle those down to just 20. Nothing in this list scored lower then a 9/10 with the majority scoring 9.5 or 10…

[planetmosh]

Cybernetic Witch Cult: New album - New video - UK Tour this October!

Cornwall's finest psychedelic stoner rock band, Cybernetic Witch Cult, will release a new studio album this December following an extensive tour and video premiere in October.

Cornwall’s finest psychedelic stoner rock band, Cybernetic Witch Cult, will release a new studio album this December following an extensive tour and video premiere in October.

As seen live at Bloodstock Open Air and headlining 2018’s HRH’s Doom V Stoner Festival second stage; Cybernetic Witch Cult’s third album ‘Absurdum ad Nauseam’ sees the trio focusing and honing in on key sonic elements to…

[wyrdwaysrockshow]

It's So Easy

It’s So Easy

No.  It isn’t, really, is it? As you’ve probably noticed, The Wyrd Ways Rock Show podcasts are dwindling a little.  I’m not bringing out as many per year as I used to.  Back in the early days, it was one a week, every week without fail.  Now it’s down to one a fortnight if the moon is full, you’re facing the right way and the wind’s blowing in the right direction. Reading the contraindications,…