Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Frankly, my dears...

You all disgust me.

One can only wonder, Mr. Fitzgerald, how long a man can sit and flail about like a pig with its throat slit before its spastic thrashing ceases to resemble life and more accurately resemble what it truly is; struggling to hang onto the little vivacity it has still drains rapidly from its veins.

It's taken me a long, long time to hunt you down, darling. To think, I might not have even been able to if it weren't for that pathetic excuse of a defector drawing every servant of our Father in the entire lower region of Vermont to your humble abode.

You put on quite a show with that little piece of arm candy, too - I must admit. But your standards have positively plummeted since I last saw you, nearly three years ago.

Do you remember the night you left me?

Do you remember the burns?

The places where my teeth marred your delicate skin?

Are the scars still there, Teller?

A rhetorical question, of course. We both know they're there, and they're as fresh as the day you abandoned us.

And what life did you pursue instead? Cowering like an old dog behind the shed, desperately clinging to your last shreds of humanity (though we both know very well you were never truly human in the first place. Not your purpose, right~?) as this utter sham of a family tries to turn a blind eye as you slip, again and again, working yourself further and further into the ground?

How many times can you rebuild, Spencer Fitzgerald?

How many times can you rekindle the fire from the ashes? Eventually you'll be so shattered and broken that your little pet of a housewife won't be able to piece you back together, and that's assuming your doctor doesn't dive completely off the deep end first~! What of sir Leon Steele? How do you think he'll react to all of this? Are you desperate for a bullet between the eyes, or is that just an unfortunate side effect of your gift - pardon, your illness? You're a liar and a fake and a failure most of all, Spencer Fitzgerald.

And I can fix you.

And miss Loreli, (almost a missus, and must I say, congratulations! I've never seen somebody wring the life from a person who was once so close to them in such cold blood. Except for when I did it, of course. But you didn't have a choice, did you? You were to be married, after all. And now look where you've both ended up~! Funny how love works, isn't it?) before you go dropping everything to tend to your most beloved leader, I take this time to tell you that Teller is beyond your help at this point. He is a delicate and beautiful flower that is far, far beyond your comprehension - at least, in this state. But if you would like to test the limits of your knowledge, perhaps you should pay closer attention to those animals you keep under the tarps~?

Mr. Fitzgerald is nothing but a figment of Teller's imagination; an illusion of what he wishes he could be, all he could never be. Father's gift to him... he resists it.

I imagine it hurts~!

But, as I said, I do possess the ability to let you all scramble and grasp for a small time longer. I offer... compromise.

I can and will return your glorious leader to his former glory; to how he was before you degenerates seemed hell-bent on ruining him. All I ask in return is a string of largely insignificant and mostly inconsequential assignments to be completed by him, for me. For Father. For his family.

I leave the choice to all of you, disgusting and flawed as you are. Leon, perhaps you will choose inaction, prove that you would be a much better leader. Todd, you have a bone to pick with Mr. Fitzgerald as well, do you not? August, imagine how much better you could care for your sham of a family, and Sam, don't you miss your sister? Amanda, aren't you tired of secrets, and Lori, aren't you tired of keeping them?

Elaine, he could have saved the man you loved more than anything, and he didn't.

I expect my answer soon. I'll know if you accept.

Tick tock, tick tock~!

Best of luck, couriers.


  1. Nooooonononononononono.
    Fuckdammit Writer. I am not fucking eye candy.
    Spencer is stronger than you think. We all are.
    And you don't know the first thing about Cam, so shut your face.

  2. Sheesh, that's pathetic. Going after everyone's weak points and kicking them when they're down. Classy.

  3. Basically what Jade said, only with an added "Fuck you."

  4. Hi. Yeah. Darling, you're a dick. Anything else I could say at the moment has already been said, so I'll leave it at that.

  5. No one needs you, writer. No one needs a damn thing you have to offer.

    Not a thing.

  6. While I am all for putting a bullet between Spencer's eyes, particularly because of his terriFYingly bad dress sense, and a rather loose grasp of the differences between humanity and cattle...

    You, my lovely, have just committed a far greater sin.

    You just ruined my holiday with August.

    Just about sent the poor boy into hysterics when he found out about this, you did. And you know what that means?

    I never got to play ROULETTE.

    You slimy fucker.

  7. Have I hit a nerve, Lainey darling? Perhaps you don’t like the thought that Mr. Fitzgerald doesn’t return your feelings towards him, and that he’s just using you as a means to pass the time? You certainly wouldn’t be the first~!
    Or maybe you’re just scared because you see so much of yourself in this monster of a man posting in your beloved’s stead? Does it still hurt, Lainey~? When you remember everything you’ve done? How many people have you killed, Elaine~? Fifty? Sixty? More? Less? And how about the preventable deaths, like Cam? The man who loved and was loved by you more than anythign in the world?
    Does it still hurt when you think that you could have done something about it? How many times can you be consoled? You’re a monster and a murderer, Lainey. A monster and a murderer just like me. Do you really think you can be redeemed? There’s no hope for people like us, Elaine, and you know it.

    Hmm? Pathetic am I, miss Opal? Perhaps before you go concerning yourself with the lives of people far more capable and experienced than yourself, you should focus on the ones around you~! What ever happened to Aggy? Did you find your dearest friend? The package was a message, darling, and that messages is clear: find her soon, or you’ll be making use of that recipe for rabbit stew sooner than you think~!

    Speaking of pathetic! Lucas, love, sometimes you confound me as much as the painter below you. How does somebody so weak - somebody who, after everything that’s happened, jumps right back into the arms of his supposed beloved and acts as if nothing happens? You’re not useful for anything but being saved, are you? You weren’t good enough for Joel, and you won’t be good enough for anybody else~!

    And oh, what’s this? The timid Lis finally standing up for once? It’s strange to see you without your hands t-t-t-t-t-t-trembling at the thought of a little bit of social contact.
    What happened to you, darling? When did you stop being the confident, charismatic girl and turn into this flimsy, fragile pitiful mess of a woman? You’ve said it yourself, Lis sweetie: you’re not a fighter. You’re not a survivor. You’re a painter, darling, what are you doing here? You don’t have what it takes to survive, nor do you possess the ability to keep those friends you hold so close to your heart safe. It’s only a matter of time before your shortcomings catch up to you and everything

    Miss Sage, you’re hardly one to talk~! How does it feel, having a title with such weight and being powerless to save anybody~? Better to be speaking out of place than to have no place at all, don’t you think?

    Ohh, Sir Leon Steele~ I’ve been waiting with bated breath for the time when we’d be allowed to swap words. Is it really my fault your little housewife can’t keep his cool under a little bit of pressure? He’s so worried, you know; always so dreadfully worried~! If this archive is anything to go by, you’re all absolutely atrocious at taking care of yourselves, it’s not wonder you dislike being around them~
    It makes it easier, doesn’t it? When the time comes for your little business to crumble and slip through your very fingers. Will you care about them then? Do you really, truly care for them now? Fret not darling, you’ll have plenty of vacation time once this is all done and over with~! Though nobody says it will be easy~!


  8. I... You really like to hear yourself talk, huh?

  9. i dunno what's going on here and i don't like it.

    maybe i should just go back into hiding

  10. Writer, you're wrong. About everything. Just thought you should know, you pompous douchebag.

  11. Tildes? Really? What are you, a 15 year old schoolgirl?

    Honey, I care about being paid so I can go off and enjoy myself, and not deal with saaaaah edgy cultist pricks like your fine self for the rest of my, most likely short, life. Everything else? Remarkably secondary to that. So, babe, I'm not going to let you take our illustrious leader from us. People around here need him too much. Despite his...quirks.

  12. Ooh! Ooh! Me next! Me next!

    Wait I'll go first.'re a smarmy asshole who kicks people while they're down cause you're too much of a coward to go for the ones still standing.

    Your turn!