Saturday, 14 January 2012

-Spencer- Background noise

There was a whole lot of that.

… I can see it now, this is going to be like pulling teeth. Not because it’s particularly disturbing or something, not because it’s gory or terrifying.

It. Hurt. It hurt so much that… fuck i dont want to think about this

I’ve dealt with pain for all my life. Since I left my home the cult and then when I left Writer. But this... was worse. Like a stabbing pain in my chest, like my body was being torn apart, then then, and then the whisper in the back of my head, telling me it could all just stop…

Sometimes being a stubborn idiot works out for me, for everyone. This time it didn’t.

I guess in the end I wanted to believe I could handle this all by myself, that I was like all of you, that I could fight it off. And I did, at least for a time, but I guess I… forgot. How thin a line I walk on, how close I am to the edge; well, this proved as the shittiest alarm clock in all of existence. I nearly killed my whole team and myself, all because I didn’t want to admit that maybe I was losing it.
and that was stupid.

Now, let’s get onto the main attraction.

I’m sure you’re all asking the same goddamn thing; what the hell fucking happened? Wasn’t there something about trees or some shit and then OH GOD SLENDER’S IN THE HOUSE FUCK FUCK and then there’s something about Steele whacking Lori with a severed leg and everyone freaks the fuck and they find the boss and everything’s good? What’s up with that?

Well everyone pull up a chair and get ready for storytime!

It all starts at a quaint little time known as thanksgiving 2011, when I put out this charmer. Not surprisingly, my assertions did little to hide the fact that everything was going utterly and totally bonkers. The House is a Loop, and seriously the only thing standing between us and proxies and… worse. Worse than proxies. And as much trouble it gives us me, it’s usually worth it to not look out the window and see His fucking ugly mug.

keyword: usually.

When the forest kid showed up, everything turned to hell. His Loop started invading mine, getting into the one conduit that usually tends to keep it under control. That, combined with all of us thinking Konaa had finally bit the fucking bullet and Elaine and her… shit, well, let’s just say the foundation was starting to crack, if by crack you mean getting bombarded with constant blasts of dynamite.

(Hahaha, it was fucking ironic in hindsight. Who would’ve thought that my own fucking design would come back to bite me in the ass? Karma and all that shit. I’d say it was funny, if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating. I don’t give a shit what happened in there; if it ever gets in my head again Writer’s going to fucking PAY.)

So the hellforest started invading The House. And like the blonde bimbo that goes into the dark creepy house alone instead of calling the police like the biggest idiot on earth, we all collectively decided to wait it out.

Now, we all had our reasons. I wanted to prove a point, Doc wasn’t exactly herself, August probably figured there wasn’t anywhere for us to go, Steele was waiting on Rivers, Amanda wasn’t going anywhere with her legs and Todd wasn’t going anywhere without Amanda, and Sam wasn’t moving her feet until we were all out the door or dead. Does that fix the fact that we all ignored branches growing through windows, walls shifting places, and the fact that our place of residence was steadily turning into some sort of circus funhouse on crack? No, but can you blame us?

… yeah, you probably can. Moving on.

Even as it was, we could’ve managed. I’ve got failsafes on this thing, procedures and little things I do to keep it running. And to be honest, we weren’t even close to a worst case scenario. I was close, so fucking close to fixing it, I just needed a little more time…

And then the grinning bastard showed up. Writer. Looking as smug and ugly as ever. I was just weak enough for him to use an exploit to get in and he… fuck, he jumped on it like a bad cold. He, fuck, he pinned me to a wall and forced what… oh god, it tasted like fucking tar and I felt all the pain in my head vanish and the fog fell over my thoughts again as I screamed out in my own head, trying to fight it off, fight off him and then the pain, oh god the pain…

the pain was fucking unimaginable, I remember pulling at my own hair, at the floor, it took my breath away, took my control away, wrenched everything from me…
before I knew it, i could feel him in the house

And that’s when everything got worse.

I never… saw Him. I didn’t. Everything I saw was a fevered delusion, hallucinations meant to make it oh so much worse. I don’t know much. I don’t know what happened, because everything I know comes from what the team has told me.

But I do know that I knew this was only going to get worse if I neglected it, if I gave in and gave up.
… so when I said I didn’t see Father, that’s not exactly true, is it?

Because I did. I saw Him, heard Him. Felt His touch burn my skin, felt his pull in my head. rejected Him. Praised him. It made no difference. When I dragged my broken body back to The Wing, there was only one thing on my mind.

I had to appease Him without joining Him.

So that’s how they all found me. In a white expanse, the White Room. Nothing for as far as the eye could see, a floor, smooth and cold like glass. A prison. Him and me, me being His fucking toy and everything else and suddenly voices, but that barely mattered at the time because there was just Him, standing over me as I scrambled backwards and begged for it to stop, and then I’m slamming into a wall, I could feel something crack, feel a fine mist of blood fly from my lips, hear it splatter on the ground. the silence built up to a roar, and I feel something… someone grab me, whispering, utterly and totally terrified

I thought I was dying.

But they got me out. I was raving, delusional, and half out of my mind with terror and pain, but I was alive. I had fixed The House by buying time, by giving myself up.

I still was seeing Him. I guess I thought I HAD died, that I was in some sort of hell…? Doesn’t matter. I ran, which left us here.

You all know what happened from there.

But now that I’m mostly healed up and since things have been quiet, I’m probably going to travel a bit. Last time I got some fresh air, I was almost brainwashed, and it might be nice to visit some of you guys while I get back to business, literally. As for The House? If I’m still alive, it’ll stay normal for now on. I’m not taking any more chances, no matter what that fucking means.

We’ll live. We’ll manage, because we’ve always managed. I’m not sure what exactly is going to happen from here, but we’re fine.

At least for now.


  1. Bang up job! Everyone. I'd take my hat off if I could be bothered to put it on.

    1. Let's hope they won't have to make a habit of it.

    2. Since it doesn't translate very well without the tone, let me clarify for you:


      There, that's makes a bit more fucking sense.

  2. I am glad to
    see you are
    all reasonably
    alive and well.

    You all deserve
    a break.

    1. I'm not sure if my work really counts as "work" anymore, but yeah, it's nice to not have our own House actively trying to kill us...

  3. I'm so sorry, Spence. So, so sorry.

    1. Methinks I detect a broken fucking record.

    2. "Elaine Jul 28, 2011 10:09 PM
      I... I'm so sorry, guys."
      It's been broken for a looooong time now.

    3. Nothing but "Fuck"s, "I'm sorry"s, and "Be careful"s from Elaine here for the past... how many months? And you wonder why I can't be bothered to read her blog anymore, if she's that goddamn unimaginative.

      Spence, way to go with the survival business. Still not sure exactly what the hell went on, but hey, you're writing now, so that's progress, right?

    4. sorrysorrysorry, fuck aaah make sure you don't get killed by the killy thing that we're being killed by, that'd be fucked

    5. Oh great job with the articulation. I'm hoping sarcasm, but let's be fair, you're probably nuts too! Fucking great.

    6. 'nuts' is one way to put it. after the latest shit, i'm perfectly willing to lose my mind to whatever substance will have me.

    7. Can't someone openly express concern? Just because she does it regularly doesn't mean she's unimaginative or bland or anything of the sort. It simply means she's consistently human.

      And unfortunately enough that seems to be a bad thing in the runner and/or proxy communities.

    8. I'm sorry that my feeling bad when bad things happen to people I care about is boring you
      Fuck you all.

    9. Except Tia. Thank you Tia for not being a raging douchebag for no apparent reason.

    10. It is a common, and well known fact that if you hear the same thing repeated over and over again, it eventually ceases to have meaning.

      In short? We're fucking doubting your sincerity.
      And I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm doing this because I'm bored.
      Cheers Logan, you're not my fucking type.

    11. Congratulations, you were apparently not satisfied with being a normal jackass, so you upgraded yourself to triple-decker donkey asshole.

      Piss off.

    12. Why are there
      people fighting?

      I thought there
      was enough of that
      in the world.

      Robin, is there
      a chance you could
      not be mean?

    13. @Ember: If I said yes, I'd be lying. Besides, a little conflict is a good thing!

      @Konaa: Was that supposed to wound me? Fucking pathetic man.

    14. Ah so basically we can completely disregard your opinion, since you're not even trying to not be an asshole. Good to know.

    15. You know what, let's go for broke.
      You, June-boy, are fucking hilarious. Laugh-a-minute, you really are. Jumping to people's defence, running around letting people think you're dead, trying to be a hero, it's downright comical! A most excellent fool!

    16. For fuck's sake, Robin, you're not giving us anything that's new. Yes, these comment threads are very exciting in terms of trolling, but it's always just the same old shit. Keep flappin' your trap; I've dealt with an asshole ten times worse and would still call him my friend no matter what.

    17. I hate all of you out of no real reason and also your blog is terribad.

  4. Holy. Fuck.
    Elaine, we've been through this. Y've got nothing to apologize for. You just keep on going, eh? We just have a lot of catching up to do, is all.

    And you lot, uh, good to see the concern? Sarcasm. That was sarcasm. Come on, you dolts. You can fucking do better than that, right?

    1. See you soon, then? I hope?

    2. Can't promise, but it's looking good so far.

    3. I'll look forward to it, then.

    4. Sarcasm may be the lowest form of wit. But it IS still wit.

  5. fight with ALL the trolls! \(゜o゜|)

    On a more serious note, you guys have been through more than anyone should ever have to in one life time and sadly its unlikely that these are the end of your problems. Its good to hear that you made it mostly alive and good luck with whats in store.

  6. Hey.
    Hey, Fitzgerald.

    Can someone just run a knife into your ribcage?

    Fuck are you ever ANNOYING, you self-righteous bastard.

    1. That seems like a stupid fucking question there, now doesn't it? I think he'd much rather show people his stabs, myself.

      That or troll them.

    2. Your blog seems to be full of stupid fucking things, but you don't see me calling you out on that. Oh wait