#cuz she's new in town/planet/solar system

[simptasia]

yeah i hc that PT9 speaks very broken simlish

[bigskydreaming]

@elfysparkles88​

#listen it's a universal problem#I love my mans Scott#everyone is always bagging on him WHY#Scott Summers#X-Men

Its because Scott Summers is inevitably compared and contrasted with those around him, and he has the great misfortune of running in the same circles as an all-star line up of like....just the absolutely most Ridiculous People to Ever Ridick.

We’re talking about a guy whose dad was abducted by aliens and from there went on to decide, welp, guess I gotta become a space pirate now, jaunty earring and all, no, shhh, shh, no, there are no alternatives, I gotta, no, I said no - SHUT IT, I SAID I GOTTA BE A SPACE PIRATE NOW ITS THE ONLY WAY. Oh btw, meet my fianceé. She’s an alien mercenary who is a little like a skunk but don’t call her that to her face or she’ll shoot you in yours. How’s that for swoonworthy, am I right, son?

We’re talking about a guy whose own son was a literal sixty year old Grumpy Old Man overburdened with world-weariness, wildly unnecessary shoulderpads and arthritic joints when Scott was barely hitting his third decade. With said son now randomly being a moody sixteen year old again, with a pet sentient sword he talks lovingly to, because apparently Nathan Summer’s take on teenage rebellion was to act out by being all LOL Fuck Time Travel Paradoxes and then rebelliously zooming around the space/time continuum while blasting a soundtrack of MCR probably, until he finally got a bead on his older self and shot himself in the face while being like “its not that I’m angry with you, I’m just disappointed” and look this is the part where your eyes are gonna wanna just glaze over so your brain can have a break, shhh, shh, don’t ask questions, just let it be, it happened, its a thing.

We’re talking about a guy whose brother rode a merry-go-round of “Am I a good guy this week or am I a bad guy because Reasons or sometimes Brainwashing or sometimes I Don’t Even Fucking Know, Look Don’t @ Me Bro, I Just Fucking Work Here, I’m Not In The Loop” for most of his twenties until dying in a fiery explosion only to inexplicably return years later as a coma patient who finally woke up one day and said “Whoa, just got back from tripping around the multiverse and boy do I have stories cuz apparently I’m the Nexus of All Realities, so hah, SUCK IT, big brother, and yes that is TOO a thing, shut up, LET ME HAVE THIS. Oh and also btw don’t spend a lot on your wedding gift for me and Lorna because I’m gonna leave her at the altar once I realize that I’m actually more in love with the random nurse lady who changed my bed pans while I was in a coma having a romantic rendezvouz with her in Paris in my brain courtesy of her psychic eight-year old kid trying to play matchmaker for her cuz like, she doesn’t date much apparently but its whatever, this is FINE, I have no objections. Ugh why are you looking at me like that Scott, no, I don’t need to “talk” with someone about everything I’ve ‘been through,’ ugh I’m HAPPY you asshole, god, why don’t you ever want me to just be HAPPY ugh you just have to control EVERYTHING with your over-bearing BS like “I am concerned your decision-making processes might be affected by all the people tampering with your decision-making processes over the years” like umm DID I ASK? No? I didn’t think so? YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD, SCOTT, UGH THAT DOES IT, IM RUNNING AWAY TO BE A SUPERVILLAIN AGAIN AND THIS TIME ITS TOTALLY YOUR FAULT, YOU’LL BE SORRY WHEN I CRY HAVOK AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR THIS TIME FOR SURE, AND OMG FOR THE LAST TIME I KNOOOOOOW THAT’S NOT HOW ITS SPELLED, ITS ABOUT THE AESTHETIC SCOTT, ITS CALLED HAVING A SENSE OF STYLE, UGH, LET ME LIIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

We’re talking about a guy whose other little brother randomly showed up and started killing people one day being like “hahaha surprise, bet you all forgot about me, PS, I’m REALLY FUCKING MAD AT YOU ALL FOR FORGETTING ABOUT ME” because the world’s most powerful telepath made everyone forget about him and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day they all had once and this is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, this is normal. As is the way his newly discovered slash remembered slash resurrected slash recently returned from spending the last decade fucking around as a disembodied energy ghost on a rock up in Earth’s orbit little brother then decided the Earth just wasn’t big enough for the both of them, the both of them in this case meaning both him, singular, and his Angst, as a wholly separate and towering entity in its own right. So instead he fucked off to space and decided to conquer a vast alien empire and spend the next several years being their god-emperor or whatever until he got bored with that. And also he kinda sorta killed their dad for a bit but whatever, its fine, he got better, and then he also kinda sorta died for a bit himself but whatever, its fine, he got better, and there was that whole interstellar war between himself and the Inhumans but whatever that wasn’t even his FAULT, Scott, THEY STARTED IT, god, do you ever stop JUDGING ME AND MY LIFE CHOICES and PS I’m still mad at you for killing Xavier, you fucking asshole, not because you did it but because like, you KNOW I wanted to do it, I had a whole fucking villain monologue moment about it and everything, you were literally there, UGH WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE NICE THINGS?!?! YOU ARE THE ENEMY OF FUN AND JOY AND HEY MAYBE YOU WERE THE REAL VILLAIN ALL ALONG, DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT? HUH? MR. I’M THE BOSS, WAIT WHO’S THE BOSS? OH YEAH STILL ME, SCOTT, I’M THE BOSS, YOU GOTTA STOP BEING A SPACE EMPEROR GABE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BE THE BOSS, ONLY I AM ALLOWED TO BE THE BOSS BECAUSE I’M THE BOSS AND I SAID SO AND YOU GOTTA DO WHAT I SAY OR I’LL TELL DAD.” 

And that’s not even getting into how we’re also talking about a guy who basically ended up divorcing his first wife and suing for sole custody on the grounds of “Well, your Honor, she tried to sacrifice our son on a literal demonic altar in order to summon Hell to Earth to destroy everything just to get back at me after I left her. Yes, your Honor, I understand that is in fact Asshole Behavior, but there were extenuating circumtances, you see, the woman I left her for was my first love before her who I thought was dead. And also, she was literally my wife before my wife was. No, I don’t mean I was married before Maddie, I mean Jean was kinda pretty much already Maddie before Maddie was Maddie. Its this whole clone thing. Look, I’m just saying it was a complicated situation and I know I have my part to play in it, but I still stand by my conviction that trying to sell out our entire planet and species to the legions of Hell while using the innocent blood of our ten month old as the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory was still a little over the top and not really the right way to handle it either. Also, I contend that I can provide a better home environment at the moment than someone who is insisting on being addressed as The Goblin Queen because what even is that, honestly, Your Honor, and also, she also brainwashed my brother into trying to kill me on her behalf, which to be fair does happen about every other month anyway, but still, like. Dick move, you know?”

And we’re also talking about a guy whose second wife who was kinda sorta his first wife but only in that It Ain’t Bigamy If Its A Clone Thing way....like, I mean. Its kinda hard NOT to come across as the bland one in the relationship when your second wife occasionally moonlights as the AirBnb of choice for a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction who is pretty infamous for the ragers she hosts every time she pops into town for a visit, all smiles and (literal) sunbeams (of scorching lethality) and “Lol hey hot stuff, remember me?” As if someone who ate an alien civilization’s sun the last time she hit a Mood is like....really in danger of ever being “New phone, who dis?”ed. But that is neither here nor there, much like the sentients of Alpha Centauri Bumfuckville after she went all Goodnight Sun, Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Solar System on their corner of the galactic neighborhood, because.....tbh I don’t think she ever actually said “why” there. Its one of those things where if you don’t already KNOW why a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction has decided its nighty-night time for this particular zipcode.....like.....that’s not really something you just ASK, y’know? Its....tacky, probably. Also, low on the self-preservation instincts, probably.

Plus we’re talking about a guy whose second marriage to Yet Another Woman It Probably Should Have Registered As A Bad Idea To PIss Off Like This ended in like....so, okay, this was a bit more His Bad than even Round One was, courtesy of a “Groundbreaking. Revolutionary. Show-stopping” reinterpretation of what was up until this point te much more ambiguous and metaphorically named “Mental Affair” concept. Though it must be said, Scotty always has skewed a bit more towards the literal minded in his personal approach to things, so, y’know. That tracks. But regardless, the pattern remains consistent here, as once again, its not always easy to register on peoples’ radar as anything other than the Plus One when your newest paramour prides herself on being both the entire planning committee AND star attraction of Victoria’s Secret (assuming that said Secret is Secret Aims at World Domination) Presents: A Renaissance Faire. But in an evil and also kinky way. Except now with sixty percent less evil on account of how Emma’s reformed these days, but not a hundred percent less evil because she’s not like, REFORMED reformed, cuz that would be boring, eww, could you imagine, no, you couldn’t, because she won’t let you and she can do that, she’s that good at telepathy and that bad at boundaries. Still the same amount of kinky as before though, but like. That’s just about Strong Branding. After all, at the end of the day Emma Frost is above all else, a good businesswoman.

But yes, she is also a big fan of the Aesthetic, with that aesthetic being Her Whims On Steroids because like they say, go big or go home, and Emma Frost does not believe in going home when she can simply acquire your home instead. Hate the game, not the player. She didn’t make the rules, she just came to win. Point being, its hard to follow up an act like Jean-Who-Is-Sometimes-Phoenix-And-Sometimes-Dark-Phoenix-And-Oh-Hell-She-Cant-Even-Keep-Track-So-How-Could-Anyone-Else-Really, but say what you will about Emma’s wardrobe, she’s more concerned with clothing herself in unapologetic take no prisoners ambition, and as such, her being the follow-up to Scott’s epic romance with his childhood sweetheart turned literal cosmic embodiment of fire and passion, like.....this was never a big checkmark in the con side of a pro and con list for Emma. It was more like oh, yes, hello there, Challenge Absolutely Fucking Accepted.

Which, y’know, all the points to House Frost for showing spine and boy howdy, that’s a spine alright.....but at the same time, going head to head with someone who is classified as a galactic threat when people are deliberately low-balling her, like, for no other reason than you’re bored and your manicure appointment isn’t for another couple hours.....like that’s the kind of thing where it has to be pointed out that there were possibly alternative options worth considering somewhere in between ‘having no spine’ and ‘spiting cosmic entity who can kill you with her brain by stealing her man and saying come at me bro because like....my spine, let me show you it.”

But again, just to reiterate the premise here.....our thesis here today is that Scott Summers Gets a Bad Rap For Being Bland or Boring or Not Standing Out, But In Reality The Issue Is Just That All The People He Knows Are Truly Ridiculous People.

In other words, Scott Summers is no more the Everyman of the X-Men than any of his Truly Ridiculous Friends and Family.

Because an actual everyman would have bounced out of that madhouse way the fuck back in Chapter One: In Which Things Just Got Ridiculous.

Cut to Scott Summers, in contrast: *looks around, purses lips, weighs options* Nah. This is fine.

See also:

His daughter, who didn’t so much arrive after the traditional nine months of waiting and preparing for a bundle of bouncing baby joy but instead just like...plopped back into the past as a full grown woman hailing from a dystopian future she was hellbent on preventing by any means necessary, even if that means had Scott frantically shouting RACHEL NO as she screamed RACHEL YES and sprinted straight at someone like Selene (a villain who has survived 17,000 years of pissing people off and making enemies of actual, literal gods) while thinking “oh yeah, I got this.”

(To be fair, she probably DID have it, or would have, if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment of all moments to have his once-centennial contemplation of “Wait, what if....murder is...NOT good?” Never underestimate the daughter of a cosmic goddess.)

Or see also also:

Scott’s original classmates, including Doctor Hank “I’m not an over-archiever, I’m just stress-eating because its lunchtime and I’ve only revolutionized two whole fields of scientific study so far today,” McCoy, Warren “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, hate me because I’m a billionaire, wait no, I’m just kidding don’t hate me at all hahaha I’m too sexy” Worthington III, and Bobby “I may look cute and unassuming and like my only priority in life is video games but sike, I too am a potentially cosmic level immortal being of nigh-unlimited power or at least I will be whenever I get around to tapping that potential like I’m currently tapping xy up down A + BBA like a boss, now shhh, don’t interrupt me while I’m kicking ass at Mario Kart I said I’ll GET TO THAT LATER, ugh, JEEZ, my priorities are FINE, Scott, like get off my back already, you’re not even my real dad” Drake.

In conclusion:

Scott Summers is valid, and there may be legions drinking his Hatorade, but make no mistake, its not that he’s Less Than, its that every single person in his social circle is just that damn Extra.

[volatile-shorty]

A C K L M R W and Z :3

OK I FINALLY DID EM HERE WE GO

A: Aleutys

the co-parent of one of my protags, aleu is fascinated by her home planets’ oceans. shes made a career out of exploring everything it has to offer, and especially loves all the creatures in the sea. unfortunately shes inherited her parents’ extreme independence and urge to run off and explore. despite the fact that she gets lost in her work, shes very kind and loving is trying very hard to come home more

C: Cally

Cally is one of my oldest ocs, shes around 8 years old, and is what other kids call a ‘scaredy cat’ and what parents call a ‘loner with an overactive imagination’. she lives with her mom on the very outskirts of town near the woods, and prefers to spend her time alone in her backyard playing elaborate (but very safe) games she makes up, or helping her mom with her many odd confusing hobbies. if i remember correctly, shes a jewish mexican, is more afraid of people than actual monsters, and her bravery only shows when someone she really cares about needs her help.

K: Kramberry (HAH! I DO HAVE A K OC!!!)

Kram is an iplier oc i made when i was like what 15, and kept as a regular oc cuz i liked him a lot. hes technically ‘universeiplier’ and is made of stars and comets and space, and is very sweet and spends a lot of time dancing with celestial entities. hes a little nosey and likes making friends and pretty much dances between the rifts between worlds like theyre cloth sheets he can just push aside. he doesnt talk much i think.

L: Lavender “Jules” Blakes

a 27yo so named bc of her eyes, Lav works in the morgue as the town morticians assistant. theyre very good natured and intelligent, and although they describe themself as impatient and rude, theyre actually very patient and polite (just innapropiately cheerful at times.). her hobbies are jewelry (her grandmothers nicknamed her jules), and, ofc, mortuary science. wants more friends someday but does not comprehend that other ppl her age find her creepy due to her height, profession, and perpetual smile.

M: Moss

Moss is twenty something years old, and is rlly depressed. hes a reserved, naturally grumpy person, who has an unimaginably sweet singing voice. he spends all his time alone, and has pushed everyone away bc of the sickness hes developed. hes also a very old oc so i dont remember where i was going with him. shit dude i dont even remember if he had any hobbies. his hair is dyed white.

R: Robbie Rose

a seemingly very nice young dude, Robbie is a neutral mad scientist with a side hobby in explosives. he used to be reckless and explosive but has sinced calmed down since becoming a villains’ sidekick and finding the freedom to do Weird Science as much as he wanted. he spends his days doing experiments that break all the rules of science and magic (and whatever set of universal laws he can find), playing video games, and caring for helping his new best friend boss think up ways to take over the solar system.

W: Mr. Wof Wold

Mr. wof wold is a quiet smart dude somewhere in his forties, and spends all his time following his best friend Baz on hunting adventures across the planet. hes the navigator of the team and has a natural strong sense of direction. mr. wold has a very strong sense of duty and feels like he needs to keep his friend out of trouble (and from getting sick all the time.). hes polite yet confident, and isnt above telling people twice his height to fuck off if theyre bothering him. misses his home and culture, but wouldnt trade baz or his other friends for anything in the world.

Z: Zoque

god dude i have no fucking clue okay

the only thing it says in my notes is; angriest spirit

i can only assume that it is extremely angry at itself, humans, everything

[ckret2]

Prompt, eh? Hmm, perhaps try a monologue from a character's perspective as they come to the horrible realization that are falling deeper and deeper in love. Bonus points if it starts over something as simple as thinking the individual has a cute sneeze.

So my first thought was “oh Ghidorah” but then I was like “but I’ve basically already done that with Ghidorah in the form of arguing with themselves about Rodan, what other character that we both know could I do that with” and then I was like “oh Gigan?”

And then I was like “well obviously he’s gotta have somebody to be monologuing to” and then it uh turned into a whole fic with a plot arc and a cliffhanger instead of a simple monologue, and also took me like seven hours to write instead of thirty minutes.

I haven’t proofed it because it’s 5 a.m.! Enjoy!!!

###

The Fissures Between Flesh and Metal

###

“The first time I saw them,” Gigan said, turned to take in both the bartender and the robot on the stool next to him, “they’d just stolen a million credit job out from under me.”

The bartender rapped the sharp tip of one tentacle against the bar disapprovingly, and the robot let out a low whistle.

“Yeah,” Gigan said. “I was ready to kill them on the spot. The apocalyptic mercenary market’s already crowded enough—there’s practically more people running around who can destroy planets than there are people who actually want a planet destroyed, you know? I’ll put up with professional rivalry, fine, but I’m not gonna take this from some edgy new guys in town who don’t have enough respect for their fellow professionals not to horn in on someone else’s job. Gimme another hit?”

The robot obligingly picked up the battery that it and Gigan had been sharing and quickly pressed the terminals to the side of Gigan’s metal beak. Electricity jolted straight into his brain. He tipped his head back, letting the rush wash through his circuits, his thoughts popping and static flashing in his optical band.

As the power boost sizzled out and he came back down, for a moment he saw a blurry golden shape with three heads and enormous wings. Then his vision cleared and it was gone.

Gigan shook his head. “But as I’m standing in a freshly-leveled village on this planet that shoulda been my job, watching these jerks who undercut me walk strut around and trying to decide the best angle to attack them from, one of them bends over and licks up this smear made out of one of the locals. The other two screw up their faces in disgust, the one that licked it is scraping his tongue off on a rock, the middle one’s biting his horn in revenge—and then the head on the other side takes a taste too, and they do it all over again.” He threw back his head, squawking in laughter. The bartender rattled a couple of tentacles in amusement. The robot just shook its head.

“Anyway,” Gigan went on, “I figured then either they were too damn stupid to realize they’d stolen someone’s job—heck, maybe they were just wild animals that had been dropped off to make a mess—or, they were the most fun guys I’d ever seen. So I let ‘em live.”

“Did you talk to them?” the robot asked. It wasn’t looking at Gigan anymore; its optic was off. A dozen different open tabs in glowing squares and rectangles floated in front of the bot, projected from the computer plugged into its wrist. The robot groped around blindly for the battery and took another hit; the floating screens sizzled and wavered.

Gigan waited for the static to die down before he replied. “Nah, not then. Had no idea what language to start with. I figured if they really were mercs and not someone’s pet planet squashers, I’d eventually run into them again somewhere like this.”

“This” being the bar around them: an illicit pop-up stop clinging precariously to the surface of an asteroid under a makeshift canopy tent, with a smattering of round tables and stools screwed directly into the asteroid’s surface and a bar made out of a row of coolers. Places like this were a dime a dozen in this arm of the galaxy, appearing in a matter of hours and disappearing just as fast, lasting anywhere from a week to five years. All you needed to make one was a force field to keep out nearby asteroids and to keep in enough air to prevent customers’ heads from popping—but providing gravity and breathable air was the customers’ responsibility. The bartender wore goggles and an air filter that snaked around her head to an air tank strapped between three larger tentacles; Gigan had enough internal air storage and a good enough filter in his throat that he’d be fine for hours as long as he didn’t get in a fight. He kept his tail and one leg curled beneath his seat to keep himself from floating off it.

Bars like this were the best place to find odd jobs and the odd guys to do them: hired killers, hackers, thugs, dealers in contraband of all kind. Gigan couldn’t count how many bars like this he and the triple threat had hung out in—either because they’d run into each other there between jobs, or because they’d come together.

“We crossed paths a lotta times over the next, uh…” he waved a scythe vaguely, “dunno. Few centuries, I guess? It’s hard to keep track of standard galactic time when you spend all your time bouncing between different planets with different year lengths. Sometimes we got hired by two different employers to hit the same world—I usually, y'know, got hired as muscle to extort a ransom, but the only jobs they ever did were full mass extinctions. I got to see them in action—wow. They’re a moving force of nature. On the right planets—wet ones, mainly—they create storms hundreds of miles across just by flying.” To the bartender, he said, “You’re from an aquatic world, right? You look like it.”

Rapping on the makeshift bar top with the tips of half a dozen tentacles, the bartender said, “My ancestral world? Mostly aquatic. About four fifths of the planet, I’m told.”

“Yeah, they’d tear your planet to shreds.“  He didn’t have enough appendages to speak the bartender’s percussive language properly—like the robot, he was speaking it by synthesizing the right raps and taps through his speaker—but he added a scrape with one scythe on the bar top to underscore the sentiment.

She shrugged.

"Fought them a few times, too,” Gigan said. “They’re vicious in close combat. It's kill or be killed, no in between. I’d usually have to cut and run, heh, just take the financial hit, cuz there’s no beating them without getting damaged so bad the victory isn’t worth it. They’re probably the best warriors I’ve ever met, but the worst mercenaries to share a market with.”

He thought his tone was admiring, but the robot said, “I thought you got along with each other?”

“We did,” Gigan insisted, and immediately corrected himself, “We do. It just took a while to get properly introduced to each other, you know? Every time I met them, they were in the middle of a job—and they had that whole... intense, mysterious, aloof loner schtick going on. For the longest time, I didn’t even know whether they could talk.” He hooked one of his wrist spurs through the handle of his drink, took a sip through the straw—hated straws, but a lid with a straw was the cheapest way to keep a drink from floating out of a mug and bars like this were nothing if not cheap—and grimaced. Either his drink had gone off in the past five minutes or that battery was messing with his taste buds. Probably the latter. "When we finally met each other properly, it was in—you know that cruddy little strip of solar systems that ended up under no one’s jurisdiction after the 'Rog turf war? Buncha little lawless hellholes?“

The bartender said, "My ancestral home world was in that strip.”

“Sucks,” Gigan said. “Hope it wasn’t one of the ones the 'Rogs asked me to clear out. Anyway, I crossed paths with them in one of the space port cities near the edge of the contested territory. They’d gotten in a bar fight. And lost.”

They’d been thrown across the bar onto their back, legs kicking uselessly in the air, hissing and spitting in the worst Suneri that Gigan had ever heard. Someone had been mad at them because they’d finished the job they’d been hired for even after they'd been told the world had paid the ransom their employer had demanded; they were mad that they’d been ordered to stop when they’d said from the start that wasn’t how they worked. They were twice the height of anyone else in the bar besides Gigan; but they were fighting completely naked—weaponless and defenseless—and consequently got their tails handed to them.

He’d learned a little bit more about them by then. Over past few centuries, he’d asked around about a three-headed, golden, scaled, winged warrior that spat lightning. He'd eventually stumbled on some sparse info about the prize weapons of a conquering empire in some far-flung corner of the galaxy, a race rather like the local Garogas. Their three-headed warriors were some sort of genetically engineered killing machines.

So was Gigan.

The warriors he’d seen were very, very far from their home.

So was Gigan.

Over time, he'd found enough info on the empire to download its dominant species’ language, so when he’d crossed paths with the warriors again and confirmed that they could, in fact, speak—

“I offered to buy them drinks.” In their home world’s language. “And they kicked me in the chest.” He laughed.

It was his fault. He should’ve known that anyone who’d flown that far to get away from their masters wouldn’t wanna hear a stranger speaking their masters’ language. Would Gigan have?

“And this is when you started making friends?” the bartender asked dubiously.

“Sure! It was the first time they didn’t try to kill me,” Gigan said. “And they did let me buy them that drink. They were flat broke. Get this—this is why I kept running into them everywhere—they were snapping up half the jobs on the market because they were doing them for free.”

The robot made a painful-sounding buzz low in its abdomen that Gigan took for a laugh.

“Yeah! Yeah. Remember what I said about that edgy loner schtick of theirs?” He drummed emphatically on the bar top. “They just wanted to watch worlds burn. No money. No rewards. They didn’t turn down anyone stupid enough to hire them, but they don’t take any orders, either. Get what you pay for, huh?”

“What is their name?” the robot asked.

Gigan’s good cheer immediately disappeared. “They don’t have one,” he said sharply.

“Of course they do.”

“No, they said they don’t. They weren’t given one. They wanna be nameless, I’ll respect that.”

“I am in the Xiliens’ military personnel database.”

Gigan leaned over, trying to see the screens from the robot’s angle. “Yeah? You’ve got a connection to their empire from here?”

“A really slow one,” the robot shot back, “patched into the network via a Xilien spy two star systems away who is connected to the home world with the worst ansible I have ever had the displeasure of interfacing with, so I would like to spend as little time doing unnecessary searches as possible. It looks like they have got hundreds of files on three-headed monsters like your buddies. Once I have cracked the security encryption on them, I do not want to open them one by one.”

For a moment, Gigan was silent. Then he said, “They said their home world didn’t name them—it numbered them.”

“Sympathies,” the robot said. “I have still got a bar code on my ass with my factory serial number. Do you know theirs?”

“He said they’re Zero.” He felt like a traitor. They'd only trusted him with that information because they'd believed him when he swore that he'd never call them by their homeworld's label—and certainly that he'd never tell anyone else.

The robot froze momentarily, processing that. “Easy to remember.” One of the screens changed as the robot started searching.

“Just one 'he’ now?” the bartender asked. “You were talking about all three together earlier.”

“Yeah, uh, he as in—as in the one on the left,” Gigan said. He didn't think of the information as coming from them, but from him—the one who'd persuaded the other two to share it, the one who'd leaned in to whisper it to him in the dark while the other two watched for eavesdroppers. “You’ve got lefty, righty, and front-and-center. Totally different people. Lefty’s… probably my favorite. I like them all about the same, but he—makes himself easiest to like, you know? Great sense of humor—the murderous kind—the kind of guy that can find anything entertaining. From explosions to head wounds. That’s rare.”

Although sometimes Gigan had gotten the impression that, on some level, lefty was forcing himself to feel entertained. The more Gigan got to know him, to see under the aloof façade they all put on, the more he got the sense that lefty had this... desperate fragility about him, like he was crumbling apart and looking for something to latch onto—a weird taste or a unique view or a good fight—something to hold him together.

All three of them gave off that impression, truth be told, just in different ways. Righty looked for stability in his other two heads, ever turned inward, to the point he was all but oblivious to life outside of them. Front-and-center held himself together through sheer force of will, and held back anything from getting close enough to touch him and break him apart.

They were all three so very brittle. They had fissures deep in their body and minds, fissures traced along the paths of the invisible scars where they’d been stitched together into a three-headed monster. And whenever Gigan glimpsed that brittleness—whenever they withdrew into themselves at a question about their past, whenever they tried to pretend they weren’t nervous around employers who paraded about mind-controlled thralls, whenever they hesitated in front of a door that said “No Pets” like they didn’t think they qualified as people instead of animals—he felt the fissures between his flesh and his metal, too.

He didn’t like to talk about his fissures. But they liked to talk about theirs even less, so it all worked out neatly—except that, sometimes, he wished he could talk to them about how he kept his from cracking open, in hopes that it could help them too. He hated their brittleness. He hated how it hurt them.

“But they’re all fun,” he said. “Fighting them especially, once you get them to a place where they’re trying to beat you instead of kill you. They don’t mind losing a few body parts, even—they just regrow them. I even saw them regrow front-and-center’s whole head, once. I didn’t take him off, just saw it happen. Fighting alongside them, though—sometimes we'd get hired for jobs together—watching the way they can work a hurricane, wow…” To think that they didn’t think they were people. Had they never heard themselves sing before? Had they never seen the way they danced through clouds and lightning? Had they never noticed how they effortlessly conducted both rain and minds alike like they were symphonies? Didn’t they know that they were maestros in the sky? Their sheer visionary genius, their unsurpassed grace, the beauty of golden scales gyrating through the cloudless eye of a storm…

“Hit me again,” he asked the robot, and he wasn’t sure whether it was in hopes of pushing the images out of his RAM or in hopes of summoning up another hallucinatory vision of them. The robot flicked on its optic long enough to pick up the battery and lean over.

When Gigan came back down, the robot said, “I am not finding any monsters named Zero. Have you got another name?”

“No—what do you mean 'named’? They don’t have names besides numbers, do they?”

“They do. The Xiliens gave them all code names. They are things like 'Death’ and 'Hyper’ and 'Kaiser.’”

Gigan shouldn’t have been surprised that they’d lied about their name, after everything else. But he was. And it hurt. “Well—keep looking. You’ve got the picture I sent you, right?”

“I will have to look through every file individually to find a visual match.”

“I’m paying you for your time, aren’t I? Come on.”

The robot made an irritated buzzing noise, but snapped, “Fine.”

“Why do you have to track them down anyway?” the bartender asked. “If you’re so close.”

Gigan shrugged. “They went and disappeared on me ages ago. I’m just trying to figure out where they went. I figured their home world might be looking for their lost planet-flatteners, so…” Although they’d never said so, he’d always got the sense that they were terrified of their home world—and terrified that they were being followed. Not the vague paranoia that any escaped weapon felt, but like they knew.

“So why’d they take off? You have a fight?”

“No. We didn’t. In fact, the last time we spoke was—was the opposite of a fight.”

The last time they spoke, Gigan had asked them to come with him. For good. He thought they should market themselves as a package apocalyptic deal, let Gigan handle finessing the employers and victims while the triple threat handled the razing. Give the three of them the opportunity to experience the cushy things you can only get when you’re getting paid for your jobs—fine dining, luxury hotels, resort planets—because they deserved those things all the time, not just when they happened to cross paths with Gigan between jobs. Take them to symphonies and operas—he heard them singing, constantly, any time things were still and they thought no one was listening, in languages he’d never learned. Travel the galaxy together. Get as far away from their pasts as they could.

They said they’d think about it.

He’d never seen them again.

He snatched up his drink and irritably stirred the straw, trying to suck up the last drops floating around inside. He slammed the mug back down. "Just trying to see if they tripped and fell in a black hole or something,“ he muttered. "Get me another. Less blood this time, it tastes funky.” The bartender took back the empty mug and opened one of the coolers.

The robot turned on its optic. “I think we have a match,” it said. Gigan immediately leaned over, squinting at the screens. Something in him sparked and simmered when he saw the photo. That was them—far younger, with a near-feral bloodthirst in their eyes that he’d only ever seen when they were fighting for their lives.

“The Xiliens have a database of AWOL monsters where they document their efforts to track them down. It was a lot faster to go through than all the files,” the robot said. “You were right—they are numbered, and they were assigned zero. I believe your friends were the prototype for the others.” It pointed at small text at the top of their file, Monster #0, and then dragged its finger down to the far larger text underneath: KING. “That is their name.”

Gigan wondered why they would rather claim they’d been named “Zero” than “King.” They deserved to be called King. “Well? What’s it say? Do they know where they are?”

The robot pulled up a map of the galaxy. It showed a cone stretching away from their general neighborhood—like the maps that came from trying to predict the path of a hurricane crossing an ocean. It curved counterclockwise in an arc, a little more than half the galaxy’s radius out from the supermassive black hole. The path was thousands of lightyears long and, at its widest point, hundreds across.

“They found faint psychic traces of King’s interstellar path almost a hundred thousand years ago heading roughly along that arc, assuming they continued on the same trajectory,” the robot said. “But that is the most recent data the Xiliens have.”

“It’ll do,” Gigan said. At least it was a starting point. Even if they’d long moved on, Gigan might be able to pick up the trail again if he knew where they’d been. “What are these 'psychic traces’ the Xiliens are tracking? Any way I can track that too?”

“I can look it up, but it will cost you more.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. That’s fine.”

“Hold on,” the bartender said, setting down Gigan’s new drink. “A hundred thousand years ago? You’re looking for someone who disappeared a hundred thousand years ago?”

Gigan winced. “Technically, no. It was—longer than that, actually.”

“How long ago?”

Gigan opened his mouth. And stuck the straw in it so he wouldn’t have to answer.

The bartender tapped out disapproval on the bar top. “They could be anywhere in the galaxy by now.”

“Yeah, if they had any idea how to hitch rides,” Gigan said. “They fly everywhere. With their own wings. They spend long flights inside these things.” He stamped a hooked foot on the asteroid. “And I don’t mean a ship disguised to look like an asteroid, they travel in rocks!”

“This is gross,” the robot said. “Organic brains are gross. But here. I got the unique psychic frequency that the Xiliens are using to track King and blueprints to a machine to do it with. I do not know if they are good blueprints. I refuse to think about brains any more than that.”

“It’ll do. Beam it over.”

The robot mentally transferred over its exorbitant invoice. The instant Gigan transferred payment, it followed up with the files. “Pleasure,” it said, unplugging from its computer and beginning to pack up. It pointed at the battery. “Do you want more?”

“Keep the rest. Consider it a tip.”

“Nice.” It carefully wrapped the battery in a napkin and stowed it with the computer.

Gigan sucked down the rest of his drink, pulled some physical cash out of a compartment in his calf, and slapped it down on the bar.

The bartender put a tentacle over the money and carefully slid it to the edge of the bar so it wouldn't float away. Several taps dragging out into wry scrapes, she said, "Must be a more impressive lay than they look like.“

If Gigan hadn’t already finished his drink, he would have choked. "We never—! I mean—we're—colleagues. Colleague-friend-…mercenaries.” He shifted the leg he had anchored around the bar stool uncomfortably. “Does it... seem like something else?”

Several tentacles rippled in a shrug. “I don’t know anything about your species,” she said. “But in most, no one spends that kind of money, obsesses that amount of time, and crosses that amount of space unless it's for an offspring, a hive mind hub, a nearly-extinct food source, or a mate of some kind.”

Gigan turned that over. In his head, he called up the photo in the file that the robot had sent him. They were so young, so furious, so bestial—so much more broken than they had been even when Gigan knew them. It was a damn pity that the Xiliens kept visual instead of audial files. He wondered if they had sang back then, too.

“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t know much about my species, either.”

His flesh felt icy and his metal felt numb during the few seconds after exiting the bar’s force field as he crossed the asteroid to where he’d parked his junk heap of a ship. He was warm again by the time he’d powered it up and gotten off the rock. He turned toward the nearest proper spaceport that accommodated people of his size and profession. He had a very long search ahead of him, and he had no idea when he was next going to cross paths with a proper spacefaring planet. He had to stock up on supplies.

He needed to buy a ship that wasn’t falling apart, too. Something built for deep space exploration.

Careful not to cut it, he peeled the one picture he had of the triple threat off of his windshield and stowed it in his calf compartment, to transfer to his new ship later.

###

If you wanna read my other KOTM fics, link’s in the source below. It’s mostly Rodorah, but this fic is canon to that verse.

[oldtumblhurgoyf]

Leviathan

had some stuff conkin around the old noodle lately (read, the past 2+ years) and I’ve never bothered to write any of it cuz it’s all a mess so I’m just gonna kind of stream it below and see if some pieces start to fit better

there’s a woman who is a respectable vintner and rubs shoulders with the upper class and all that. she’s a low aristocrat living in a monarchy and while she’s doing alright for herself, especially compared to the commoners, she dreams of more

like she literally has dreams that are prophetic in nature. she doesn’t know how or why, but she just knows. if she acts on them they can become real. however she is cognizant of the fact that her husband doesn’t appear in any of these dreams and she’s not super sure why

one day the king is coming to visit the area and he’s heard good things about her wines and wants to try them. now she’s had lots of time to prepare for this and is super ready. in fact, she and her husband have planned an elaborate trick to rob the king’s treasury and get away with it

it’s a pretty well known fact that wine snobs would rather drink swill but go along with the popular opinion that it’s incredibly fine wine than buck that opinion to voice distaste and be lampooned as not actually knowing a damned thing about wine. this is more true if everybody knows the price of the bottle.

these two are gonna use that (and this woman’s background in forgery--did I mention she lied and cheated her way up into the aristocracy from peasantry? her husband knows and is pretty cool with it, but they both kept that secret so the two could marry without his family refusing to accept it) anyway these two are gonna use that to produce a very old and highly esteemed and sought after vintage--fake of course. it’s worth a TON and they’re going to offer to let the king buy it from them. there is a fine and old wine in the bottle, and the things so rare, nobody actually knows what the original vintage tastes like, much less after all this time. it’s a perfect crime

of course, something goes wrong. i’m not sure what yet, but they get found out. i’m imagining this elaborate dinner party with the king and his entourage (the whole court isn’t traveling with him, but lots of people are so it’s a hefty crowd) which turns into an impromptu trial when the forgery is somehow found out

now the thing here is, in my mind this is playing out as the two can both deny it and there isn’t hard proof to bring against them (this is a very good forgery, she excels at what she does). maybe in my protagonist’s head she is thinking this and then it comes down to the king’s temperament--does he side with the adviser who insists it’s a fake and punish them, or side with them against his adviser?

but her husband caves under the immense pressure of lying in the face of the king. he wasn’t born into this sort of life style, he just sort of married into it and then the worst he had to do was show his parents the well-forged documents of heredity or whatever proving that his bride-to-be was a distant cousin or some such of some foreign count. he’s never been in this sort of situation and it all just kind of comes up, maybe isn’t even entirely malicious on his part but is the absolute worst thing he could do in this situation

it cuts her so deep, to be betrayed by the man she loves like this. and the sentence for their crime, which in this monarchy is a form of treason, is death. he’s condemned them both... but despite this she can’t stand it and admits before them all her skill at forgery and how it was her idea and her work and here she claims that her husband was unaware of it, that she kept him out of it as well and thus only she should be punished

...except the adviser, who is persnickety and a stickler for details, recalls some small comment or happenstance earlier in the evening which somehow betrays that the husband must have been in on things. he knew and thus despite his wife’s noble attempt at self sacrifice, they must both suffer the punishment

which brings us to this king having a perhaps distorted sense of honor and justice and all that. he reads the husband as a sniveling coward who would sell out his wife to save his own skin (again, maybe that was the case, maybe not) and as such must suffer the fate of a coward (perhaps here the king even confirms that prior to his admission the king felt there was not enough evidence to condemn them and would have simply refused them payment under suspicion). as such it is better the husband be executed rather than “live life as a coward and die a thousand times a day” or some nonsensical line about honor and courage like that. dude’s murdered on the spot, in front of his wife and all. there are fucking cheers because people are like that--they just witnessed god’s divine judgment manifest before their eyes and had no idea dinner would come with such a great show today

he turns to the wife, life destroyed by her husband’s betrayal and subsequent death. she’s numb and traumatized and would welcome the same fate in this moment. the king has other plans. he notes her courage and gumption, if misplaced. he says in a different time, under different circumstances, she could perhaps have made a fine knight or some such, so determined is she and willing to face god and fate unblinking. he sentences her to meet her fate head on, in exile, condemning her to the Tentacles.

that’s part one

now what the fuck are the Tentacles, you ask?

Exogensis by Mac Rebisz

so imagine those things aren’t giant jellyfish but instead giant squid. like, planet-sized squid. the world my story takes place on is one of those squid and the planet is called Leviathan

the head/body of the squid is generally safe and habitable, like just imagine Earth more or less. but those tentacles are a mixed bag of hell. overall they retain atmosphere though it’s thinner and less stable so some areas (and without much rhyme or reason) you can asphyxiate or be exposed unknowingly to dangerous levels of radiation (not that anyone in this setting knows what radiation is and they only barely understand the atmosphere thing--they just know that the Tentacles are hell on Leviathan)

but even more dangerous is the fact that these things are just kind of floating out in space, trailing thousands of miles behind the head/body, and every so often they bang into each other. the appendages themselves can take this kind of beating, but anything on the surface--plants, animals, small towns that have popped up in the last couple of decades to a century since the last tentacle-on-tentacle bashing--is obliterated

life on the Tentacles is harsh and dangerous. for someone who has lived her whole life on Leviathan-proper, exile to the Tentacles is likely a death sentence

so part two picks up here and this is where things get really fuzzy for me. i’m not sure what the trajectory of this story is at this point but big picture here are some things i think i know about the world

Leviathan is one of many planets like this--squid shaped in orbit around a star. but there are no other planets immediately around like it. everything else orbiting this star is a spherical planet. this is because Leviathan is part of an ancient exo-planet colonizing entity. iunno if it’s a “man made” intergalactic space ship of sorts or alien species, but this thing exists to travel the universe, find habitable planets, then jettison a tentacle onto that planet before taking off to a new solar system in search of more planets to cultivate

the tentacle grows on that planet into a new leviathan. which then sets out in search of more hospitable planets to propagate the species

i’m not super sure why or how at the moment, but the surface life of these leviathans--plants, animals, people, all of it--is an intricate and indispensable part of this procreation process. which to me points toward it being an ancient alien seed ship, but i’m more intrigued by the idea of some sort of grand and natural symbiotic relationship where this cosmic entity needs the little bits living impossibly short lives on its surface as much as they need it

my heroine likely finds her way to one of these tentacles as it’s about to shoot off toward a habitable planet. i think she might be an Eve figure? like maybe the people are aware something is about to happen with this tentacle so they are making a mass exodus to save themselves but she’s able to find some sort of deep cave with something akin to stasis capsules and convinces these people they need to hop in ‘em. maybe it’s even just a “hey, we definitely aren’t getting away from this in time, death is certain, so let’s try this and hope against everything we know that a miracle happens”

and of course it does. they wake up to a lush new world. maybe even the Leviathan they came from can still be seen in the distance (though they can tell it’s no longer in orbit, it’s further from the sun and seemingly escaping this solar system--how much time has passed? everyone they may have known, that king that had condemned her and even his entire kingdom, is surely gone). she’s continued to dream in this stasis. she’s here to lead these people and try to better establish a history of where they came from and what these leviathans are, what their Leviathan will seek to do

anyway we get to see her working to establish a new society while also still dealing with the events of her past, which still feel very recent to her. i see the dinner with the king, her exile, and the tentacle jettison all taking place in perhaps two month’s time. then she’s in stasis and wakes up perhaps millions of years later feeling like she just lost her husband two months ago. how do you navigate that intense personal experience with the knowledge of how your actions might effect a global and even intergalactic scale

[devilsadvocate007]

Facebook Posts July 2010 - December 2010

4th July 2010

The illusion that everybody's opinion matters has created a society in which stupidity must be considered just as seriously as brilliance. Gone are the days where stupid people weren't allowed to talk while big people were talking. Now they have their own facebook pages.... On the bright side, we no longer have to rely on television for entertainment

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10th July 2010

♫ Just gonna stand there and watch me burn....well that's alright because I like the way it hurts......Just gonna stand there and hear me cry....well that's alright because I love the way you lie...♫  - ‘Love the way you lie’, Rihanna ft. Eminem

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14th July 2010

If there's no such thing as no such thing, then there is such a thing as no such thing, which means that there really is no such thing as no such thing.

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15th July 2010

Bad?: So I was standing next to a fat girl and I turned to her and said "moo". At first she started to cuss and call me names and tell me about my mother. I quietly said "moo" again without lifting my gaze. This time she started screaming and clawing at me. For the last time...I said "moo". She stopped and looked at me, then after a minute of silence she said "father?"

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25th July 2010

You know you're doing something wrong when your fiancée tells you "I'd rather be his whore than your wife"... ♥ Titanic

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30th July 2010

You ever meet someone so dumb that you think they're up to something? "What?....no....what you playing at?....wait.....you're serious?"

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5th August 2010

The 1st tao of Jarid: {For all those in a relationship...the sentence "It doesn't matter anymore, I have a man, I'm gonna let loose" is not acceptable unless you're talking about a party or sex.}

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6th August 2010

I know I'm not the only person that finds irony in the fact that the guy that recently beat the JAMAICAN Bolt, is called Mr. Gay. lol "Gay shocks Bolt in Stockholm" is the Headline....So what did we learn? U can run from gays all u want my Jamaican brethren, but it'll catch up with you eventually...

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15th August 2010

Life is too short to waste on people who don't realize how awesome you are. I knew an awesome person who never followed the crowd or did what was 'expected'. She's gone now, but I can say she lived her life the way she wanted to, surrounded by people she liked who definitely liked her. When my time comes, I want someone to say the same about me. So fuck off and thank you.

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17th August 2010

Can someone explain to me how purposely doing something that makes your guy friends happy and like u, but at the same time leaves ur woman unhappy and unsatisfied, isn't gay? "Bow cat" it would seem is the opposite of "battyman"....not synonymous.

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20th August 2010

"Ur like a giant fucking cock blocking robot developed in a secret government lab or something" - Zombieland (lmao)

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21st August 2010

♫ That's alright, thats ok....g'on head believe what ur home girls say...a nigga like me drink alotta liquor, meet alotta bitches, take alotta pictures....I might break bread with 1 or 2 strippers, but that don't mean u gotta pull my zipper...thinkin that I dicked down the whole town, even tho I got dick to go round ♫ - ‘Smell yo dick’, Kay Luv

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22nd August 2010

♫ You say its my fault, ok then I'll go...its better to know...how theres nobody to argue with...cuz im not home...dont care who ur with....dont call my phone...or did u forget...u know you're wrong...I'm gone....and you're all alone....hearing your own damn...eh echo eh echo ♫ - ‘Echo’, Gorilla Zoe

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8th September 2010

♫ A penny for my thoughts, oh no I'll sell them for a dollar, They're worth so much more after I'm a goner, And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin', Funny when your dead how people start listenin'...If I die young ♫ - ‘If I die young’, The Band Perry

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10th September 2010

The tao of Jarid: "Facebook is not a place to publish things you wish to remain private. By its very nature, anything put on here voluntarily is for people to notice, see, and by extension comment or ask about. Getting defensive when asked about something YOU put up in the public domain makes no sense."

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11th September 2010

The tao of Jarid: "Women treat the male gene pool like a real pool. They all jump in and splash around the shallow end in their youth...then wade out to the deeper end as they get older."

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15th September 2010

“Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar [violin] to a gorilla.” - Jim Bishop

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17th September 2010

Taxi driver on the way home today: "You see men? Especially young men like you? You need to eat raw foods. Lemme tell u the other night I was with my gf and no matter WHAT position I put her in...me deya fight fi cum! FIRST time me haffu TRY cum. All when me done, cocky stiff stiff"

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22nd September 2010

Birthdays on facebook are really opportunities for people that never speak to you to subtly say "I care! Don't delete me! Look how I wrote on ur wall!" lol

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23rd September 2010

The tao of Jarid: The lawyer most people know is the American lawyer. That's why lawyers have a bad name. Caribbean lawyers are nothing like their American counterparts (the laws and practices here are vastly different). People should remember that before they band all "lawyers" together.

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23rd September 2010

Listen, I understand that having a BB means that u can talk to anyone at anytime for free, but seriously...10 grown ppl sitting in a room engrossed in their phones not speaking to each other, is ridiculous. What happend to common courtesy, what happened to meeting new people and saying hi to a stranger? Sheesh. U remind me of little kids in church playing their gameboys.

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26th September 2010

U know what I hate? The fact that hypocrisy is so prevalent. Any time you see someone stand up and strongly take a stand against something...9/10 times they do it. If they vehemently denounce homosexuals, 9/10 times, they're sleeping with little boys. Its SO common now, that I never want to take a strong stand against anything, lest ppl think I secretly do it. Chupz.

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The tao of Jarid: For those of you who believe that "no means no, but unconscious means yes".....a prison cell awaits.

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28th September 2010

The legal way of saying “nigga stole my bike”:  “ A human being of the male gender wth black pigmentation on his skin appears 2 have acquired without my consent my 2-wheeled, non-motorized private and/or recreational transportation, also known as "bike", and appears 2 have driven away with said 2-wheeled, non-motorized private and/or recreational transportation, despite my attempt of chasing the said human being, completely ignoring my request 2 give sed item bk” - username iani103. Man, I love my profession.

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1st October 2010

I think women should develop the same "fuck it" mechanism guys have. If there's a baby in the house crying for hours on end...what you will not find is a man around. Y? Cuz we can't fix it and its driving us crazy, so we roll out and go by Tony's house to watch football, i.e. fuk it. More women should do that instead of staying in the stress and snapping and shaking their babies to death or driving them into a river.

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The tao of Jarid: Facebook should have a 'WHO CARES?!?' button....and make my page immune to it.

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2nd October 2010

The tao of Jarid: The more "LMAO"s and "LOLOLOL"s your status contains, the less funny the actual subject matter is. Contrary to popular belief, nothing gets funnier the more you laugh at it by yourself.

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Grown men's fascination with penitentiary pussy confuses me... Sex with it = go to prison. What's the problem? Where's the option? All I see is "Sex with prison". No thanks. That's like the "option" 'get in this dark van so I can drive u to my abandoned cabin in the woods or I shoot you'. All I should be hearing is *gunshot*.

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4th October 2010

The tao of Jarid: Drama vampires are not cool. While the rest of us need food and water to live, these creatures survive solely off drama and other people viewing it. The only effective way to deal with them is to block and delete them from everything. If you can't see their drama, they weaken and die. True story.

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“I think when you put sex and spirituality in the same bottle and shake it up, bad things happen. Yes, I said I kissed a girl. But I didn’t say I kissed a girl while f-ing a crucifix.” - Katy Perry (on why she dislikes Lady Gaga’s music video for ‘Alejandro’) 

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5th October 2010

"This is my facade of civility; do not mistake for complacency, for once this veil is taken down, you'll see a vicious turn around...of all you grew to know and love...the hand lying beneath the glove.... An animal living in a shell. A beast who's come to raise all hell."

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6th October 2010

The tao of Jarid: Forget CNN, BBC or any other news organisation....nowhere else are world issues more discussed than on YouTube's comments section

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8th October 2010

You are one person, out of 7 billion people, on one planet, out of 8 planets, in one solar system out of a hundred billion solar systems, in one galaxy out of a hundred billion galaxies.......you are ENORMOUSLY insignificant, and don't let facebook ever make you forget that. [De-motivational Speech for the day]

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11th October 2010

Anybody remember when they FIRST came on fb YEARS ago? How it used to be? How Fb made hi5 look like the social networking ghetto? It was so clean and neat and classy. "Jarid Hewlett", likes, interests, lil about myself. Send ur friends who u havent seen since primary school messages. It was a magical innocent time. Why did you people have to rape facebook? Why?

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Now? as NC17 says, no more "Jarid Hewlett", we have "Jarid fuckspussyallday Hewlett", we have "What kind of telly tubby would u have sex with?" quizzes, we have people fighting over who their baby's daddy is for the world to see. (Btw when did this shit become acceptable? Not knowing which guy ejaculated inside and impregnated you is something people used to be ashamed of and settle in private...why is it cool to broadcast this now?), we have break ups where guys blatantly put their numbers under "X is no longer in a relationship"..... What happened to CLASS??? I understand they don't teach that in school, but they bloody well should. No one comes on fb to keep in touch with people anymore. And the ones that do, spend 20% of their total fb time doing that. The rest of us laugh or bow our heads in sadness at the ridiculous shit people post. I'm black and I hate racists and racism, but goddamn it....sometimes, as much as I hate to admit it.....I see where they're coming from. <sigh>

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15th October 2010

♫ We're going out tonight...to kick out every light, take anything we want, drink everything in sight, we're going till the world stops turning while we burn it to the ground tonight! ♫ - ‘Burn it to the ground’, Nickelback

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21st October 2010

The tao: Men get bitter, just as women do. The difference is, a bitter woman will say "fuck men" and never have sex again. A bitter man will say "fuck women" and do just that.

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26th October 2010

The tao: "All inclusive" does not mean "free cheap rum and vodka with juice". Stop the false advertising.

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27th October 2010

The tao: Having high standards doesn't necessarily exempt you from whoredom. While we all agree that having low to no standards makes one a ho, having high, meaningless standards makes one a ho too. "I only sleep with guys that drive BMWs" is a high standard. It is not a substantive standard.

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♫ And who do you think you are? Running round leaving scars....Collecting your jar of hearts, tearing love apart........You’re gonna catch a cold, from the ice inside your soul.........So don’t come back for me, who do you think you are? ♫  - ‘Jar of Hearts’, Christina Perri

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28th October 2010

"Labour all de way"? "UPP all de way?".....come on, man. I'm "all the way" with whoever makes Antigua a better country. Politics has come to mean arbitrary following of a party that makes your immediate life better regardless of the long term. Don't even get me started on 'patriotism'.

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31st October 2010

The tao: He who is slow to anger gets annoyed the longest.

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1st November 2010

♫....you just hurt my goddamn feelings, and that was the last one I had ♫ - ‘Here we go’, Eminem

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2nd November 2010

Lawyer talk: My Lord, my client was not anywhere near the building when the window was broken, and if he was, he did not break the window, and if he did break the window, he did so by accident, and if he didn't break it by accident, it wasn't the complainant's window, and if it was their window, it was their fault for putting it where my client throws stones.

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8th November 2010

Mr. Kartel, you sir, have lied to me.....apparently women do not want a man whose "buddy long like a thousand match stick line up"....apparently that hurts and more than 90% of it will be outside anyway. You have misled me sir, and I demand an apology.

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10th November 2010

On a serious note.....which do you think is more "loving" and less "heartless"? (Option A) Being in a relationship and cheating gratuitously on your significant other? Or (Option B) breaking up with your significant other who probably didn't see it coming, because you want to sleep with someone else?

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11th November 2010

The tao: No one really sees anything. Everyone thinks they see something. I might think I see a pudgy, ugly woman, you might think you see a curvy goddess. Who knows whats actually there...The difference between sane and insane people is that insane people are just a little more creative with what they think they see....and nothing can change their mind.

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14th November 2010

The tao: If someone tells you something you don't understand, don't repeat it. It might have been wisdom when they told you...but after your brain is done with it, there's a high chance it comes back out as crap.

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15th November 2010

"You're Cuban AND Jamaican?? That's a really.....illegal mix, lol. So you speak Spanish and bloodclaat?" - Mike Yard (*dead*)

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17th November 2010

The tao: One should never let emotions get in the way of reality. Sometimes people just don't appreciate you no matter how you feel about them. That's ok. Someone does.

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19th November 2010

♫ Well I'm a poet to some, a regular modern day Shakespeare.....Jesus Christ, the King of these latter day saints here ♫ - ‘Renegade’, Jay-Z & Eminem

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25th November 2010

The tao: Whenever you think "don't let a good thing pass you by"....remember that many things are only good now BECAUSE you let them pass you by at first. Don't be afraid to let go.

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26th November 2010

"If my wanting to see you was on a scale of 1-10.....I'd still say no". It takes a while to fully appreciate just how horrible this statement is.

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27th November 2010

U know what I just realized..?..The first time I listened to the Marshall Mathers LP was on *cassette*...in my * Walkman*....that Michael Henry had copied for me.....I'm gonna reserve my rocking chair in the old folks home from now, see...

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The tao: Stop saying "I'm just me". Everyone is just them. If you choose to be someone who tries to be like other people, that's still who you are. You are just a personalityless ninny, but it's still who YOU are. You can't ever be anything else but you. "I'm just me" is like saying "I breathe oxygen". No shit.

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♫ Me start da day wit a flask, cranberry an ice inna glass....satellite can't find me me lost....buy me own liquor cuz me a me own boss....drink fi drunk dat me endorse....OH ♫ - ‘Rum & Red Bull’, Beenie Man &Future Fambo

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30th November 2010

Seriously....if I read one more comment under a political story with someone urging people to "wake up", I'm going to slap somebody. I always find it fascinating that politics turns otherwise sensible people into jackasses. "Belief is the enemy of reality".

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Lesbians have life so easy.....girls are very gay normally, lol. Dressing in front of each other, dancing up with one another, feeling up one another etc.....you could pretty much spend ur whole life being a lesbian and no one would ever know once u lie every now and again about some boy u find hot.

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"The fact is governments deal with the United States because it's in their interest, not because they like us, not because they trust us and not because they think we can keep secrets," - US Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. If that's not gangsta, I dunno what is...

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2nd December 2010

♫ I love my life....none a we don't know wey tomorrow might bring cuz the future deh hours away...so me go live my life today...me ah live my life today...so lowe me mek me talk what me want fi talk, me have nuff fi say...so me go live my life today...me ah go live my life today ♫ - ‘I love my life’, Demarco

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7th December 2010

The tao: Never overestimate the power of friendship.

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9th December 2010

♫ De boy ketch me a stamp up him gyal postcard....want arrest me but....him anna sarge....he nah stop tell me how him a camouflage....never voice ya hear from him vocal cord because.....a we mek nuff man start drink Guinness ♫ - ‘A we’, Hawkeye

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11th December 2010

The tao: The next time someone you thought you mattered to lets you down, always remember that its not their fault you don't have better friends.

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17th December 2010

Men beware: "Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes" will never ever stand up in court.

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19th December 2010

The tao: Stop bitching about the 'true meaning' of Christmas. People like presents. Deal with it.

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21st December 2010

The tao: Put on a jamaican accent and include "bloodclaat" or "bumboclaat" and any sentence becomes five times funnier. E.g. "Where are u going, u unhygienic homosexual?" "Yow, a where dis dutty skin, yellow teet, shitty draws BUMBOCLAAT battybwoy a go?" Same message. Five times funnier.

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25th December 2010

The tao: "I have a boyfriend".........."Babes....you can have ALL the boyfriends you want...not "a", not "some".....ALL.....me still want u". - This conversation will always go like this. Saying you have a boyfriend is not a substitute for saying no.

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30th December 2010

New year new me! "Are u getting a sex change?" What? no..... "Are you changing careers?" Um..no.. "Are you radically overhauling your entire personality?" Not really... "Shut up and sit down"