For the record in case anyone's paying attention, I'm on a very long haitus. Since... earlier events... I've been a tad bipolar, to an extreme. I can't focus, and I have the oddest urge to stab anyone that comes near me. Not exactly healthy, especially when it comes to my friends.

So it looks like you kiddies will have to do your own homework for a while, ya? Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm also rather ashamed of the fact that I can't seem to hold a conversation that lasts more than five minutes without acting like a complete nut job, like... right now for example. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing or saying.

Another example. A couple of days ago I heard a certain Rihanna song on the radio on the way to the grocery store, and nearly crashed into a ditch. Not pleasant. I now have an extreme aversion to a huge list of songs, which is frankly fucking annoying. Also, obligatory hate-filled moment: FUCK YOU AND BURN IN HELL YOU GODDAMNED SOULLESS BASTARD! Ahem. Sorry about that, I can't exactly control those 'moments.'

Can't focus, can't keep one thing in my head for long. Everything reminds me of pain and songs and blood, and my head starts going down fucked up little paths. This is NOT what you would call fun, ladies and gentleman. The thought of a reading one of those insanely long blogs and writing about them makes me start twitching. Goodbye for now.


Interview with Andromeda

Andromeda requested an interview, and I wasn't in the mood to be stabbed again, considering the circumstances.Peter's interview, I was a bit paranoid and only interacted with him through email. This time, I was a little less so. With people apparently finding me,  it doesn't really matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. We used a webcam session to 'film' our little interview, and well.. this is the result.

Start of Interview

Andromeda: (She appears on my screen. She looks like she hasn't been sleeping much. Her suit is slightly rumpled, tie loose and top button undone, skin pale with bags under her eyes behind her glasses. Her hair's coming out of its bun, adding to the frazzled look. She smiles at me, obviously tired.) Good evening, dear.

Me: Good evening, Andromeda. Or, would you prefer to be called Constance?

Andromeda: (quiet chuckle) I'm sticking with Andromeda for now.

Me: Alright then, Andromeda. When you got ahold of me, you mentioned wanting to get to tell your side of the story. I'm afraid I still don't understand what happened. One day you were cutting into people, and the next things began to change. You began to change. Can you explain how it all began, that you remember?

Andromeda: Well....(small frown) The first time I REMEMBER things changing was when I murdered Mr. Roye. It was the first time I could remember feeling regret for something I'd done. That alone was a novelty.

Me: How long did the regret last? What do you think caused you to murder him? He was such a faithful person, though somewhat blind to you in the end.

Andromeda: How long did it last? (quiet chuckle, looking somewhat sad) I'll let you know when it stops, dear. I'm not sure why I murdered him, to be honest. I rather liked the fellow, even if he was a tad annoying. I just....did it. Without thought. Looking back, I believe it may have been a directive from Fath....apologies. (sigh) From the Slender Man.

Me: You're still feeling regret, after all this time? You seem a bit conflicted. Do you want to refer to him as Father, or is it simply a habit? Did your new traveling companion help, or make the situation worse?

Andromeda: I believe it's simply a habit at this point. A rather irritating one. As for Mr. Stern...he made the situation infinitely worse. By the time I met him I was certain that I was not what I thought I was. I had been made that way. Him, though...he was that way out of choice or breeding. It was who he truly was. That...scared me. Scared the Andromeda persona, I should say, since she isn't me.

Me: Alright, I can accept that. You were afraid. If you were wavering in your conviction already, what drove you to... torture those people the way you did? It could only have made it worse, if you were already doubting yourself.

Andromeda: At that point, dear? I believe I was trying to do something, ANYTHING to restore my faith in my actions, even if that meant committing acts I found repugnant at the time. I must say, I AM sorry for that. I've already donated quite a sum of money toward rebuilding the church and compensating the families who lost members.

Me: Money doesn't replace people. I can't really place the blame on your head, but many others will want to. You will be a hunted woman for a long time.

Andromeda: I'm quite aware, dear. And I'm doing the best I can. I would like to make it known, however, that I only have one murder left in me, and I'm saving it for someone very special. I will not kill until it is time for that person to be dealt with.

Me: I apologize if this is blunt, but who would that person be?

Andromeda: I would rather not say, dear, as she may see this interview. Would it satisfy you to know that her existence is my fault, and thus she is my responsibility?

Me: Ah. She seems rather familiar, but I'll respect your views on the matter. I can't control who sees this, after all.

Andromeda: Precisely.

Me: You began to remember more about your life after the incident at the church. How much do you remember now? How much of that 'old life' is yours, and how much is still Andromeda's?

Andromeda: I still remember everything I experienced as Andromeda. However, I also remember large portions of my true life. It's...a complicated situation.

Me: Would you say they are like two parallels running next to each other, or do they try to compete for your memory?

Andromeda: They try to compete, dear, especially since my current self seems intent on rewriting memories of other personalities with its own perceptions.

Me: What do you remember the most now? What would you like to say about your like as Andromeda that you feel might help the other Runners and Proxies. You're rather special, in that you can say you have returned of your own will.

Andromeda: I remember more of my original life than of my false lives, but that is simply because the false lives only cover 14 years, while my real life covers the 32 years prior to that. As for any advice I might offer...we aren't all monsters. But the fact is that most of us will never leave His service, so death may still be the preferred option. As you said, I am a special case. Revenants seem to be susceptible to this conversion. (chuckle) So you may want to tell the Runner community to stay away from Revenants. We'll take care of ourselves.

Me: That seems to be a tale I've heard before. I have a few Revenants I'm keeping an eye on right now, to be honest. Anyway. What do you believe finally made you 'convert'?

Andromeda: From Revenant to Neutral, dear? The simple revelation that I didn't want to be a murderess for the rest of my days. I'm well aware that most of the Runners will not accept me. I don't expect them to. All I ask is that I be allowed to help where I may, and be left alone otherwise.

Me: You know that for the most part, you won't be given peace. You'll have to be a different  kind of Neutral than I am, and you won't be able to find shelter as easily as the rest of us.

Andromeda: So far, dear, I have yet to see hide or hair of the Slender Man. His proxies are terrified of me, so I don't expect trouble from them. The only people I'm really worried about are Runners who decide to attempt revenge for friends I may have killed.

Me: The Slender Man may have decided to let you go. I only hope that is true. As far as the proxies go, they have good reason to be afraid of you. Your past is rather, ah, violent. The Runners, they are surprisingly fast. What do you want out of your life now that you've given up on being a murderess?

Andromeda: Ideally, I would like to be left in peace. I always wanted to be a writer, and now would seem a good time to begin. I would also like to live someplace quiet. Perhaps I'll move back home.

Me: He's international. I hope your conquests don't include overseas.. is there anything specific you'd like to say? Something that I've overlooked?

Andromeda: Not at the moment, dear. I would simply like to note that while I will not kill, I am not above permanently laming anyone who decides to harass me. If you would ever like to come for a visit, dear, let me know and I'll supply you with directions. Oh, and as it turns out, I actually AM a surgeon. That happened to be true all along.

Me: Goodnight, Andromeda. Do let me know when you have another name to go by.

Andromeda: I will, dear. (video shuts off)

End of Interview


Streets of Gold

I've been gone. Gone gone far away farther than the rainbow, and I wish I haven't been. I want to wake up on the other side and realize this is just another dream. I dreamt of this before, and I thought it was a lie, I thought it would go away, but no it was real it was real please god make it go away... Executor was kind compared to this. I'm so sorry. I... I need to put a warning on this for anyone reading. If you're faint of heart, or are easily offended, leave now. I won't be able to censor it.

I was leaving... Monday morning? I think? To go to that friend's house I mentioned. I thought if I left for a while, took a vacation, tried to make the stalker go away maybe i wouldn't have to worry.. he'd go away and everyone would leave me alone. oh no. tha'ts never how it works is it? I'd packed an old, ratty bookbag with some clothes, books, and an ipod. I was carrying my laptop on my way to my car when a shadow crossed mine. I looked up to find a nondescript middle aged man humming quietly to himself with a smile on his face. He asked for directions to.. something, god i don't even remember. i was so stupid. i opened the door to put my things down, and i heard him say something about having fun. i tried to turn.

He grabbed me and held a rag over my face. that disgusting smell was the last thing I knew before I panicked and started fighting for all of five seconds. All I knew after that was black. I came to in a basement in the dark, my hands and feet bound together and unable to see much more than the mattress i was laying on. i dazedly looked around and tugged on the ropes, praying that this was another nightmare i'd fallen into. i could hear...rihanna? playing in the background. i think it was rihanna, at least.

i love the way you lie..

footsteps from behind me. circling me, steps in time to the beat. was that singing? why the fuck.. oh shit. no nonononononono. I struggled harder, the rope digging into my skin, my skin breaking the blood falling oh god. a voice behind me, calling my name, talking to me like an old lover. asking me if i knew who he was, why he was there. laughing

"Hello my little dove. It really is good to see you. For a while I was afraid someone was going to get to you first. You seem to have a lot of people after you, don't you? I can see why, though. Intelligent, caring, and yet at the same time.." he takes his left hand and starting at my face runs it down my body until he stops at about my thigh, then removes his hand. "So very vulnerable." He sits down, lights a cigarette, then places a hand on my thigh again. "So tell me dove, do you know why I'm here?" He laughs a bit. "You called Ronan a friend of yours. At the same time you warned others to stay away from him. Perhaps not the wisest idea. At any rate, you have become one of the people keeping him where he is. And I just can't have that. So I decided to visit you, my beautiful little dove."

Suddenly, light everywhere, in my eyes, all i could see. he blinded me. oh god, i wish he hadn't. so much pain, who the fuck uses a switchblade?  his hands are on me, his knife is cutting into me why are they so shallow do you just like the blood? you love the pain... he tells me about his beautiful switchblade inbetween his little cuts, pausing to dip his fingers in the blood. he touches them to his mouth, he makes this awful sound like he's.. he enjoys it. he smiles down at me so serenely, the light making a horrible silohuette around him. "Would you like a taste? I'm surprised. Normally they're so bland... oh, my dear, I'll have so much fun with you. This is only the beginning..."

he forces the fingers into my mouth, i try to bite why was i so stupid he smiles oh so wide and slaps me with that burnt hand of his, switchblade still in his hold. my cheek oh fuck the pain oh god no please make it stop this can't just be the beginning. the cut's blood's dripping so fast now onto my collarbone, rolling down I can't stand that feeling, the copper strong on my tongue as he yanks my head back forward. The entire time he's crooning this sappy love song along with his radio, singing so sweetly just to me, "I don’t need to try to control you, Look into my eyes, And I’ll own you with them!" What a joke. Evil fucking bastard. I hate you so much now. I'll never hear those songs the same way again..

I glare up at him with everything I have, spitting the blood out to the side of me. So much blood was on that mattress already.. I could barely tell the splash of where it landed. He talks so fucking much! Singing and talking and touching touching touching, he never shuts the fuck up.. oh never. He smiles and starts his way down, tearing and cutting my clothes as he went. kissing away the blood and the pain from those shallow little cuts, looking up at me the whole time. that touch god i hate you i hate you so fucking much I want you to burn and------no, please no, stop. cut me again, hit me, i... please please please no god help me i don't want this i don't want you i hate you please mommy please god... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I fainted.. somewhere at this point. it bleeds together so much, i don't remember, i don't know what happened when all that blood all over me all over him his laughing and joking, god we might as well have been making polite conversation. "Ask me your pretty little questions while I make you scream. It might even make this easier." Stab, screaming so loud. "Oh, now that isn't a question. That's just more music to my ears. Now, start asking or I make the pain worse." he starts pushing his fingers into the wounds, digging and scratching and pulling at them will I ever stop screaming.. he pushes in and starts laughing, telling me how "good I am" and how much he was going to enjoy our little date.

I ask him everything i can think of, inbetween the screams. god i even know his favorite color... he made me hate him, over and over. he made a mockery of me and everything i knew. His body reminds me of the man from my dreams, god i dreamt of this, of all of it. how did i ever manage to forget? the only thing i missed was the hair, but the voice.. that quiet accent, the beautiful lulling words while i panted and tried to kill him with my eyes. all those scars, those burns... some of them, we even match now, AREN'T WE FUCKING PRETTY NOW?!

He loved it when I called him Azriel. He burned my hands, cackling about my typing while some inane Avril Lavigne song played so motherfucking loud, "Damned, damned, damned, what I'd do to have you here, here here, I wish you were here..." I don't want you here, I don't want to be here. I want to slice pretty little designs in your face, draw the stars and the moon and all of my hatred onto your arms so no one will ever trust you again, no matter what you say or do. I blacked out so many times, always to wake up to that awful face, that awful smile..

During the blackouts, he just kept going. It didn't matter to him whether I was awake. But while I was awake.. he'd just stop. wait for me to stop crying, or just stroke my hair while I bled and cursed him to high heaven.  He was so many people while I was gone, and so many songs were playing.. if one would stop, he'd just put in a new cd. there was so much blood, fingerprints were everywhere, all over us. A good part of the time, he'd just pause in the middle of whatever he was doing and go to sit in a chair he'd pulled up the mattress. He'd tell me stories then, and ask me about my life, my loved ones. these times.. it was like it was all a sick, awful dream and he was the only sanity. we had most of our sane 'interview' while he watched me, while he made me wait for the pain. beg for it to start again, just so i'd know..

The worst part, is when he stops he's so goddamn normal. This is the guy you'd bring to your parents, that would be in your photo albums or hell, be your best friend's father. His eyes were always kind, like he was doing me some kind of fucked up favor. Hell, he even came out and told me while he was watching me. Like he read my mind and just wanted to fuck with me that extra little bit. By the point he told me this... I don't even know how much blood he had spilled. I think we might have been about a day into that... whatever you want to call it. I was half-delirious from the pain and the blood loss, and laughed afterwards.

"The thing is, I'm actually doing you a bit of a favor. I don't mean to be rude about it, but you're a bit of a weakling. Easy to trust and easier to overpower. The thing is, weakness is only partly in the body. I knew a girl about as strong as you, and she was one of the few to ever scar me. A real fighter, that one. Your issue is in the mind and there's only one way to fix that. Pain is a beautiful thing, you know. Give someone enough of it, and they will do one of two things. They will break completely, or they will become stronger than they ever could be without it. I wonder which one will happen to you. It's always hard to tell."

I laughed and laughed and laughed and never called him David again. why would i? Azriel gave me some tiny little bit of power over him by allowing that nickname. in hindsight, i was a complete fucking idiot before all this happened. goddamn, 'everyone can be redeemed' my left fucking foot. he was right, in a way. i was so squishy, so loving, so motherfucking naive. god, after everything I went through BEFORE HIM, i figured i knew it all. god, i was so wrong. have you ever been tortured? your mind pillaged and all your insecurities paraded around in front of you like you mean absolutely nothing to the world? in the middle of it all, if he would have let me go.. i'd have probably killed myself rather than let it keep going. let him kill me, if he had wanted. he was never that nice, why couldn't he have just let me go, given me the knife and ran and let me ended the whole goddamn charade, they'd never touch me again why why why please...

He wanted me alive. he wanted me to enjoy the pain, hurt me til I wanted him to cut me again. he'd give me water, bandage the worst of the wounds and clean me up every few hours, give us a chance to sleep. the motherfucker laid down and held me, and took fucking naps with me. if i moved... he'd make me hurt worse. I learned not to move after the first couple of times.. i didn't want to make it worse, god, why couldn't I have brought a gun? he would sing those awful lullabies in my ear as i went to sleep, he'd keep me up with the pain until I couldn't even scream, and sing to me so goddamn beautifully... why couldn't I just make him kill me?

He made me so weak around him. he made me hate him so much. god i hate him so much. I want to kill him kill me make the thoughts stop get him out of my head make him go away! i think i'll vomit if I talk about all the 'secrets' he told me, all the things he fucking knew about me.  I was awake for my mind's autopsy, no pain killers, just the whispers and the pain and his slowly growing bored with me. He gets creative when he's bored.. i'll never forget his face, his smile, his eyes, that awful glint in his eyes as my blood ran over his hands, down his arms and fell back down onto me. he loved every part of this, the pain was beautiful to him.. i can't.. i just can't talk about everything. i'm so sorry. i can't do it. this was written to help purge the awful memories. i.. i'm going to skip a good chunk of the second day..

He finally grew tired of his game, two days into the whole goddamn thing. he threw buckets of water around the place, and left his tools just... lying around. he didn't even care. he laughed when i eyed them, told me i could "keep a souvenir" if I liked. i flinched for what must have been the thousandth time, and turned my head away, waiting for it all to continue. the music finally, goddamn FINALLY turned off and there was quiet besides our breathing. he rummaged through the pants he had shredded so many hours ago, pulling a sticky blue, now red, phone from one of the pockets. he shook his head at what i guess was the lack of a password, and sat down, clicking away through my contacts. he found what he was looking for after god knows how long, smiled and put a finger to his lips. he pressed send and i could hear the ringing echoing off the walls.

"Hello. No, this obviously isn't Dia. She can't come to the phone right now, but she needs someone to pick her up. Me? No, believe me you don't want me to take her anywhere. Oh, I'm just a friend of a friend. But you might want to hurry. Don't think Dia can wait long.' He rattled off whatever the fucking address was, and hung up in the middle of their ranting. He grinned and saluted me before he got dressed, acting like he had all the time in the world. He walked up the steps muttering something to himself about a shower, shouting his goodbyes over his shoulder. I was left there for... an hour? Two? There was alot of shouting and hands pulling on me after that, asking random questions. Was I okay, did I know who did this, did I get a look at their face? I just stayed silent, and cried when I was finally free. I would never be free. I'd always know who it was, and telling them what happened would be pointless. How do you tell everyone you just want to wash all of him away?

So I lied, and lied, and lied. I never saw his face, he spoke rarely, the lights were off, he attacked me from behind... etc. etc. etc. They rushed me to the hospital, badgering me with questions and cries of encouragement. I didn't care. I wish they'd shut up. after everything, he's ruined so much for me. Right now.. the last thing I want to hear is anyone's voice. That's it. Show's over. Go away.

I've been gone..

It feels like forever now. I.. shit, might as well just say it. An evil man named David found me on the way to my friend's house. Why'd he come for me? Because I am friends with Ronan, the Mad Ventriloquist. Here I was worrying about a regular human stalker, I should have been worrying about him. He.. he hurt me, the entire time I was gone. I've been in the hospital since they found me. God, so much happened in two days. He.. I can't, won't put in a place children can accidentally see. Hell, anyone that hasn't been through hell has no place seeing it. I'm putting what happened  on my other blog, The Jester's Folly, so if you really want to.. you can see it. For the followers of the other one, I'm sorry. That's the best I can do from where I'm at.

I'm in a good deal of pain, but the painkillers are helping for the moment. I don't know what else to tell you. Bad shit happened, someone found me without really even trying, and my hopes are so far past dead... he fucked my head up pretty badly while I was gone. It's a miracle that the sick bastard gave me back my shit when he was done, let alone the doctors letting me write this. I told them I'd pop all my stitches and walk by myself if they didn't leave me the fuck alone.

(laugh) It's not like there's anyone to catch me if I fell here. If you want to find me, go for it. Everyone apparently knows where i am now. Besides, just check the local news. I made all the headlines. I'm so FUCKING POPULAR NOW! The doctors are hovering, so that's it. See you on the other side.


This time, it'll be a little different.

I've been in and out of contact with a.. friend of mine, Peter Rivers. His family and old associates have tried warning me away from dealing with him several times, but I believed that Peter needed his story told. Our emails have been flitty and unfocused to put it lightly, so direct quotes are going to be spread across this post rather heavily. I apologize if this makes it hard to read.

Peter has been a friend, a brother, a traitor, and many other things. At some points, he has even been a savior. I've written about him in the past, so I'm not going to regurgitate things I've said about him before. On those parts, I'll only say: he was heavily involved in the birth of the Manufactured Newborn. If you want to know more about those kinds of things, just read that post. It should be in the Archive for this blog. Now, if I'm not going to give a blow by blow account of what he did, what am I going to do? I'm going to show the highlights of his rather eventful life since he began writing and appearing in blogs. For the record, at this moment he is a representative of the Fears.

He saved the child Owen from near death, and you could even say by being a distraction, he kept Hunter from dying as well. Both would deny this, but, well, their opinions aren't what this blog is made of. This distraction I speak of was his being snatched from the sky by the Fears. These days, he follows their orders with a rather reluctant obligation. He wanted to have his chance to explain himself, to show how he believed he really was a 'good guy.'

Peter: Huh, well...maybe that I can be a "good guy" too. I'm not one of those slender freaks that runs around and kills people at random.

He warned me to be a little more wary of what I did and said, which of course made me laugh.  That's why I write! He went on to tell me that 'the old Peter' was still trapped within him, for his own protection. That to let him back out could potentially break his mind.

To summarize quite a bit, he hates his job. His latest assignment was to kill the humans that had survived an experiment of the Fears. An experiment that lasted 11 days, to which they believe all of them would die. They were wrong. Well, Peter's job was to cover up the evidence of the venture.

I urged him to try to escape, to leave their hold and try to be free. There are so many Runners, why not their pet? He went on to tell me that the Fears had no use for the death of humanity, that their little Game was much larger than us. We were only pawns to be used and abused for their own entertainment. This, I believed. I had heard such a story many times before. 

Peter would never have betrayed his brothers, never. I don't believe it, and when he tells me that.. I believe him. Peter was, is, a wonderful man trapped up in horrible circumstances. Peter never 'gave in' to the Fears. He fought them with everything and every part of him that there was. But fighting them, it's like a rat in a maze just running and running and running. You know there is a temptation at the middle of the maze, but it isn't real. They still have a hold of you, no matter what you do or which way you turn. We all end in death, someday. Some just live longer than others.

I had two points to show of this post, three if you really want to be technical. First of all, I wanted to make my opinion known of Peter, and show his brothers and all of his disbelievers the 'truth' that he wanted to show them so badly. He didn't believe that they would believe his saying it to them directly, so he asked me for this chance to make his beliefs and his apologies known. The second of these was for me to show that not all Proxies, not all 'evil' people wanted to be where they are. With the recent Heel Face Turn of Star, the betrayal of sorts from Cheshire... I wanted someone, anyone to get their chance to tell the truth. 

Just because they can't change because of who they love (like Messi), or they know they'd be questioned constantly (like Wolf), doesn't mean they have to stop fighting. They all have a chance that they don't see at first, we all do. We all have a chance to live and love while we're still alive, before we give up and make stupid decisions when we think our backs are against the wall. I believe in every creature, every person, every Haunted the Fears have ever found and tortured, no matter what 'side' you are on. I believe in redemption. 

Which I believe brings me to my last point. As of right now, I'm staying with a 'friend' of mine somewhere close to my residence. I've set a series of posts to auto-post while I am away. I don't know how long I will be gone before we can 'catch' my stalker, if we even can. Right now, I want to let everyone know, I AM okay. I am not gone. I am safe, to my knowledge. I'll be signing on to catch the comments and to put up any new information I find or take care of while I am gone. 


First post, the Cross.

I went to check my mail, and found an envelope taped to my front door. After reading it and seeing its contents, I figured I should get some help on this. It's also why I'll be double posting tonight. You'll see why in a minute. I have a series of pictures I'm going to upload, and then a dictation of something that'll probably be too hard to read.

First, the envelope and the pictures of the letter:

Yes, Dia is short for Dialga.
Dialga is the Japanese name for 'Diamond.' I use that name for a reason, though doubt it will come up. The contents were a small gold and diamond cross. 
And there's the second half of the letter. I'm going to translate over what the letter said (my camera sucks, I'm really sorry.) Then, I'll explain why I'm starting to be worried.

Dia, my Diamond,

                 I love you so much, and you just don't know it. I'm afraid to show you my love. I feel like everytime I see you, I can't help but hide. All my courage vanishes. I hide because my love is so strong. All the words I want to say just disappear. I want to show you how I feel, who I am. I suppose I'm too scared to open up and be real. I know you love me and have hidden feelings too. It seems like it is easier for you to express yourself to me, than it is from me to you Dia. I love you, and know that I will always have hidden feelings for you. I love you baby.

Always and forever, 


Alright, can anyone guess the multiple problems we're having here? First of all, he calls me by my penname, and a version of it I don't believe I've ever written in this blog. Second, he's obviously been following me for quite a while. How do I know this? That golden cross was originally mine. It's been missing for... months, at least. I know for a fact it was in my jewelry box the last time I saw it. I thought at the time I had misplaced it, but now.. I'm sure he stole it. He's been in my room, people, watching me sleep. I'm not taking the fucking thing off ever again. I would pitch it, but it is a sentimental gift from a loved one. I can't make myself get rid of it. Sentiments aside, this... admirer has stolen from me, and believes me to be in love with him. 

This is.. just not okay! How do you make someone go away when you've never seen them? I can't go to the police, for fear that he'll go after my family. Or, god forbid, that he's some supernatural freak trying to fuck with me. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Change the locks? Apparently the first set didn't work that goddamn well! I didn't even notice he was following me for, what, at least the past six months? Who knows who else I haven't seen or noticed? Readers, I'm scared. I'm freaked out. For whatever reason, this guy(or girl?) believes themselves in love with me and doesn't give a shit about personal boundaries. Can I please, please get some fucking advice here?!



I figured I would finally expand on this idea. I've mentioned it several times in my blog, but most don't know what I'm talking about. Generally, I got the idea from reading Messi's blog. Gatherers are pretty much Proxies that pretend to be a victim/a Runner in order to gather information about the other side. It can go on for years without ever being found out. Technically, all it would take would be a phone or a computer to achieve the results you needed. You could be sitting next to the Runners you were turning in, and 'just barely escape with your life.' I've seen Poe is technically supposed to be a Gatherer, but I haven't seen any other examples. There's no way the proxies are that damn good at hiding their tracks.

I believe that there are more of these little fuckers in our midst than just one or two. Oh no. I believe there's an entire hidden group of Gatherers, specifically around to find out what they need to take Runners/uncooperative Proxies down. After all, who doesn't want another 'friend' to confide in? We never have any true ability to trust those around us. I hate to cause more paranoia and distrust, but let's face it. Some of the Proxies we deal with on a daily basis are just plain stupid. Reference Morningstar's now dead recruits if you don't believe me. And then, there are the ones that you just KNOW are devious as hell. Now. For the stupid ones, how the hell do you think they get the information about the Runners? There's no way they can even spell their own names, let alone look up an IP address or coax them into giving intimate knowledge about their lives.

I just don't believe it, sorry. Somewhere, somehow, there is more information we are just not able to access. Computers, log in information, notebooks with the truth, you name it, I believe in it. Surely there's gotta be some kind of training manual out there somewhere for the less criminally minded! Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night, and wondered why your significant other/friend looked guilty while they were updating their blog? Ever found one in the history that didn't look familiar? All this and more, I know has happened. It has to. Also, another thing I would like to address in the mythos, while I'm at it: when people get scared, they fuck. Sorry to put it so bluntly, but stop tiptoeing around the truth. You do, you enjoy it, and it's one of the few distractions we get.

Anyway, back to the point. There are people among us that don't fit in. They are somehow always able to escape certain death, or have unknown connections that allow them to get resources they should have never been able to get normally. Sometimes, they know information that just doesn't make a damn bit of sense. How the HELL do you know what that Proxy looks like, hmm? Sorry, but that person has NEVER shown a picture of themselves on the internet. So why do you act like you could paint a picture of how to recognize him? How do you manage to 'hack' a blog that's been inactive for months? How are these blogs even hacked to begin with? Something's fishy, and I'm probably going to be persecuted for saying it, but fuck. Get a grip everyone. Open your eyes before your 'best friend',lover, or what the hell ever puts a bullet between your eyes or a blade in your back.


And then, there were roses.

Not doing my normal homework for this post, I have heavier things on my mind right now. I believe this list ought to show you all a few situations that are volatile at the present moment. Pay attention to these, as the eye to the storm only lasts so long.

No Pressure = No Diamonds, There are three wonderful women that are currently running from an unknown force. Lis, Marie, and Tia didn't really know much about their situation until they were already in boiling water. People got hurt, Marie went into a coma, and someone started hijacking their accounts. Lis and Tia received a warning as they were packing to run from their tormenter, making their wonderful little 'follower' rather obvious in his stalking.

They fled, and with the luck of the damned, showed up at a Silent Hill-esque motel. They also managed to land themselves in some kind of time loop. None of the inhabitants can see each other, and are beginning to turn frantic. Blake is presumed missing, Lis is considering going in the Crying Room, and Tia just wants to burn the whole fucking place down.

Nowherever Wintermarch is a guy that made a blog to deal with his troubles sleeping. Not a big deal, right? Of course not. He starts having the symptoms of sleep paralysis, with extra little hallucinations and nightmares thrown in. He starts feeding a neighborhood family of foxes (which is just adorable.)  Somewhere around that time he stops sleeping, for the most part. The few times he does sleep, he wakes up with horrible scratch marks on his back. Some bad shit I won't spoil for you happens, and well... he starts being stalked by an animal that makes his hair stand on end. My secret belief is that he's dealing with the Rake, considering the shit we deal with every day.

Upon the Stairs Yeah.. I know I already wrote about this chick, but I have a really bad feeling about her situation. She was just in a coma, she's been bouncing in and out of being drugged, and she's been hallucinating at the same time as seeing the Slender man. Her sister was tortured and killed in front of her, she's been dragged to hell and back with all the shit and evil she's had to deal with, and I'm worried. My gut feeling is telling me she's close to snapping. Hell, just the one encounter with her convinced me of her unstable dance with sanity. I don't see this girl becoming sunshine and rainbows, ever again.

Take the Myth One day, I plan on writing more about Elaine. For the moment, this will have to do. She's neck deep in a bunch of trouble. Her dead best friend's husband wants to kill her, she's on the run from the Slender man,  and did I forget to mention, she has multiple proxies that have a fucked up grudge against her. The ones I know for a fact are Prosper and Morningstar, and I'm probably forgetting a few. Jake, the crazy husband, recently revealed that Slendy forced her into serial killing fifteen people from the age of eight to ten. I should say that made her a powderkeg all along, but that wasn't her fault. I'll just leave it at the minor  opinion that she's either going to wind up dead or with more blood on her hands, and soon.

Hypothesis Now Nice girl, small town. It seems like a normal enough story. Well... one day she wakes up to find an operator symbol drawn in blood in her driveway. She shrugs it off, but finds a trail of footprints leading from the symbol into the woods next to her house. She investigates the next day with shotgun in hand. After about an hour of searching, she literally trips over a dying Runner. After panicking and administering some heavy first aid, she brings him back to her home and ties him to the bed for safety. The Runner sleeps for a while, screams like he's tortured, and starts blathering about the Slenderman killing everyone. She of course cold clocks him with a pair of brass knuckles she had sitting on the bedside table. It was immediately after that that she noticed something outside, and went to see what was in the trees. Can you guess what it was?

She found him in a clearing staring at the moon, and was deathly fascinated by him. (At this point, I'd like to point out that some people really need to watch more horror movies.) I believe he compelled her to find him, to stay in the clearing watching him there like some kind of clandestine meeting. Why? I have no idea. He finally acknowledged her after about an hour, and attacked her. Her memory has obviously been tampered with, but what we do know from her account is that she was stripped, burned, and her mind violated. I have no idea why the Slenderman waited so long with her there, or why he even cared to begin with. I just know.. once your memory starts fucking up, you're screwed. And this.. this is at the beginning of her experience with the Slenderman. I wish her luck, but.. I don't see this ending well.

There are three blogs that seem to be drawing the short straw in all this messed up business. Strike the Set, This is not a blog, and Floccinaucinihilipilification. There's some really, really screwed up events going on involving all of the. Instead of doing the research myself, I just asked Lucas from This is not a blog what the fuck was going on. This is a direct quote, as I am lazy.

"Wolf or Joel,(Luigi) it's difficult to tell these days, have decided to come to the aid of Rachael(Mario) from Strike the Set in her search for Cheshire. (Bowser) A nasty proxy who has kidnapped the Runner sweetheart, Schrodinger. (The Princess)"

Honestly, those three blogs are in for a firestorm of problems. Every other blog seems like it has at least a little bit of time before everything blows up. This one? Oh no. Everything is going wrong right now, and I doubt anyone can stop it before it gets bad. I guess that's it for now. I've finally calmed down enough to watch Marble Hornets again. Maybe the internet won't crap out on me again. Watching all of these videos means I'm pretty much volunteering for a headache.

For those it may concern, I wasn't kidding about heavier things being on my mind. I woke to find a bouquet of roses sitting on my front porch, complete with a cliche stalker note. "Thinking of you always. See you soon." I appreciate the gesture, but now is really not the best time for someone to develop a crush. Does anyone have any ideas of how to scare the kid off? I'm in way over my head as it is.