Tuesday, 29 November 2011

-Spencer- It’s all okay

Shut up, June.
You can't fucking tell me otherwise. You're dead.
Joel is dead.
Lucas is dead.
You don't have any fucking right to tell me anything.
… So we’re still alive, because what else can we do? The couriers have three years worth of always aiding, always abetting, never fucking interfering. Because we’d watch you all, always removed. We know we can’t afford to fall when the bodies start dropping.
(I know you can’t afford for me to lose it)
You all need us.
(I know you can’t afford for me to get attached)
So we’ll keep on going.
(Fat chance)
Considering how The House is a thinly veiled eldritch horror itself, it’s a little strange for me to realize we’re kind of a last refuge for those of you who have nowhere else to go. Elaine and crew have set up shop for a little while, and I’m glad I can at least give them a safe place to lay low.
(Until the branches started moving in, when we’d all wake up in the morning and the forests that always flanked the edges of the territory we could see would move closer and closer, until they started breaking windows and trying to fix it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts)

I’m guessing it’s because of the forest kids; even if one of them isn’t here, the Loop they were in just… really did a number on them. The Loops get into your head, draw form from your thoughts, trap you in a maze because your brain just fuels the fire. There’s no way out at that point without help.
(… I should know)
But at this point, it’s as much a part of them as they are of it. That sort of thing follows you like a bad cold. So I’m over here, up to my neck in black leaves, trying to figure out how to make The House stop screaming at me like I’m late on handing in a report. My nose is a goddamn faucet, but I’m making progress. Sort of. I’m not sure if it’ll go back to normal after they leave, but that’s something to worry about later.
(I’ll avoid what I want to for as long as I want fuck off don’t tell me what to do)
this sums it up better than I could ever hope to. Lori was off like a fucking bullet. using her shirt as a tourniquet and carrying Elaine down to the infirmary with strength I didn’t know she had. It’s… Elaine’ll live. She’ll live because we can’t do much of anything else. I…

What else can I do?
I know a few things. I’ll catch up to that fucking snake one day, and paid someone who’s known as a good source of information a little bit of a… visit. Shame he’s on assignment. Would’ve liked to see his lease on what went on, even if we didn’t get anything of consequence from it.
(Every time he screamed I felt a little better)
… Shit. TL;DR is that I’m working my ass off at fixing The House and shit’s gone to hell but we’ll get better.
This’ll get better. It always does.


  1. He'd be so proud, don't you think? Insulting his memory by becoming what he hated to avenge him...You really are a laugh riot, Fitzgerald.

    What's even funnier is that you think a CORPSE can do anything even remotely threatening to me.

  2. I was already something he hated, Rhodes. Mock me all you like, it'll just make it all the better when I see that fucking smile fall from your face as I slit your throat.

  3. I survived falling fifty stories and you think a little sharp prick to my neck will kill me?

    Fitzgerald, Fitzgerald...relax. Sit down. Take your pills. Don't strain yourself, now, you'll bust an artery~

    The simple fact of the matter is /you don't matter at all./ You're part of some cockeyed scheme of Writer's (no offense, my friend. We really should talk soon.) and that's it. You're acting outside your prescribed role, Fitzgerald.

    I'd get back into line before you get punished.

  4. Lets see... I'll make this simple.

    "You're being stupid."

    But sounds like your heart's in the right place... so calm yourself down first... once you've got a straight head, THEN go kick their asses.

  5. Spencey!!!!!!!!!
    Keep the fuck away from Rhodes. He's my kill!!

    Konaa was supposed to be mine, this fuckhole has prevented me from getting my rematch and he's gonna fucking B̛̩̣̰̦̗̼͉̻̝̺̤͙̱́͂̒͊́ͬ͒ͧ̈ͯ̓ͨͬ́͊ͫ̈͟͟Ư̢̲̻͕̖͓̲͉͕̠͉ͯͥͦ̑́͘͡R̡͇̩̫̝̗̩̤͗̃͒̽̓ͯͬ͑̏̍͌ͭ͌̆̽ͮ͌̒͌͜Ņ̡ͤͪͯ͑͒͌̓̍ͩͨͧ҉͕̤̘̯̲̙̦̫̗͟ ̶͚̖͇͕̼̮̯̭̯̝̺̼̪̜̝ͪ̊ͥ͗͗̐͗͊̅̇ͨ͑ͯ̉͑͌̉͟F̋̒̐̄̊̑͑ͩ̈ͨ̉͊ͬ̍̇̆̂ͬ͏̵̝͍̻̼̳̱̰̤̟̳Ơ̶̴̸̴͓̥̱̗͕͎̠͙͓̤ͨͪ͌̿̇̉͋ͧ̑̍̒̆ͥ̉͂ͥ͊ͩ̚ͅͅṘ̈͛̉͛͌ͦ̓̔̈ͣ̃̈ͣ͒͠҉̨̤̻̪̭̫̻͢͝ͅ ͗̌͒̔̈ͧ̃͐̃̑̈́̀͏҉̜̣͓͍͔͎̺̰̩͚̠̲̭Iͧ̓͂ͣ͑̄ͥ̓ͨ͏̜̞͉̯͙̀T̨̍̊̓ͩͪ͊̃̅͆̎ͤ͌́͜͡҉̤̬̘̤̳̩̥̣̯̳!̸̹̼̹̲͐̀̈̈̾̒̈́̀͢!̴̗͖̣̫͕̞ͬ̔́̎̅ͬͩ̈́̾̓̍͊ͥ̊͘!̅͊͒͒̂̈͑͊͊ͯ̚͡͏̧̤̺̗̰̙̻̦͉͍̲̤͜͟!͙̥͖̹̘̝͖͍̪̱̹̩̟͖̲̜̦̯̉̑͐̓̑̽ͪ̃̆̚͝͞͞

  6. Damn that's sure a mess you've got there Ridley

  7. Damn straight.

    Just admit it Doc. We're both attracted to each other, why go on with the lie? You can't deny it. Something happened that night in New Orleans after the Rake attacked. We were on opposing sides of the war, as we are now, but we two were the only survivors of the raid on Asylum's blockhouse and there were Sibylline Prelates closing in from all sides. You were badly injured when Lucifer attempted to use the Degenerate Crucible against the Pandaemoniums. And so I carried you seven miles through the front lines, while the American and South African artilleries dropped shells all around us. Then I spent six months nursing you back to health and evading the Hounds Parliament sent to recapture me for the Axis.

    But in the end, you did recover. And I don't need to remind you of what happened after that.

    It wasn't to last though. The war ended, the Duke of Havana was executed, and the newly established Congress offered full pardons for all war crimes. All of the prisoners were freed, and I had to go back to my wife on the farm in North Dakota.

    But the bitch is dead now, so there's nothing keeping us apart except that douche Spence, and he doesn't treat you as well as I did. He even has the audacity to try and steal my kill! Come over to the Slenderside baby. We have cookies. AND milk.

    That's right. You heard me.

  8. Fuck no, that's some disease water bullshit going on there. I'll pass on everything.

  9. Leave Lorelei the FUCK alone RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

    Step. Down.

  10. ♪♪♪♪♫

    Who? Lil' old me? Naw, Spence, you know how it is bro. We just be doin' what we be doin'. At all times keep it in frostiness. For serious.

    Steele, you just tell me where you wanna meet and I'll get you a nice supply of the good stuff, dawg. Uncle Riddles be takin' care of his chillins, yessir.