Return Post.

Quite simply put, it's time to put all (or most) of the cards on the table. I've been dangling hints and fucking around instead of coming out and telling the truth. Well, I'm tired of it. first off, the dreams? They're scrambled up memories, though not necessarily mine. Mine, yours, the kid next to you that just got sliced and diced, and hell, that favorite blogger that you like so much? theirs too. living someone else's life vicariously (especially the dead or soon to be dead ones) is enough to send someone a tad insane. It's because of this I won't be apologizing. I also won't be feeling guilty for the long absences, the lack of details about my houseguests, or about the amount of angst.

Second, yes, my houseguests are gone. All of them. There's blood on the walls, broken glass, and a few suspicious burn marks on my property, all thanks to them. My computer has been returned, obviously, with a nice little post it note on the top, " Apologizing for the Inconvenience", with a few hearts drawn on. A few bundles of cash were next to it with ANOTHER note on top of them. That one just thanked me for my hospitality. Whoever's responsible, for once, I'm not pissed. I'm just going to accept it, start blogging again, and use the cash to repair the property damage. Lord knows there's enough of it, despite my Ladies' best attempts to fix the situation. Oh well, spilt milk and all that.

Third, you will be getting some more details fairly soon. From myself, and from the others, though I can't guarantee when. But you will not be getting the full story. You just won't. Look between the lines, be a shipper, and look at all the tension. You should be able to figure it all out if you're smart. Stop being lazy and start asking questions, if you really want to know more.

Fourth on the agenda! For the ones that have figured it out, yes, I do have a bit of a past. Everyone does. I just happened to dance around the sides of the fight without getting recognized. I killed a few (or maybe quite a few) people, lied about who I was, and generally made all this 'secrecy' you all seem to think you have look like a big fucking joke. A short, dark haired girl that had a smile like sunshine disappeared (or died) for many of you this summer. Most of the ones that would remember are dead by now, thankfully. I showed up shortly afterwards, with a batch of fake memories and a little too much knowledge about the Fears. Is this a coincidence? Of fucking course not.

There are no coincidences in the Slenderverse, or really in the outside world in general. Fact is, I tried to retire from a position at the Lonely Hearts. My handler smiled and handed me a pocketwatch. He told me all my troubles would go away if I simply used it. Looking back, I was a bit of a twit to believe him, but hindsight's 20x20, right? I gained a couple months of 'peace', until my encounter with David. I probably would have gone on with all my suppressed memories quite nicely if he hadn't found me. He wanted me to be more genre-savvy, more thick-skinned, and more dangerous. It worked. He knocked that 'Dia' mask right off my face, and cracked that persona right down the middle. Corrupted that pocketwatch's effects, until the damage from him and the watch were twisting and combining to make one big, fucked up mess of my thoughts and emotions. Whoops, eh?

I started dreaming, and sleepwalking, and almost spilling secrets while I was awake. so, when I was asleep, I started writing to warn myself. I would leave pages of my writing scattered around my house, but I.. didn't recognize my own writing? Then other pages started showing up, and shit started happening that I know I didn't do. I mean, I know some of it was me, that much was obvious from the writing and the wording. But... someone else came into the picture, and I still don't know who. I'm frankly.. a bit worried about it. I can protect myself from.. myself, but someone else? Not exactly. Whole new territory. For the record, I think David knew exactly what he was doing. that 'talisman' of a memory I mentioned? The one that kept me somewhat sane was the 'true' memory of the aftermath of the torture and.. everything else David did to me. The pocketwatch was the token from the first dream.

David didn't call my family when he was finished. He didn't call a co-worker. He called a.. friend, one of the few that knew back then who I was. A wonderful secret-keeper, he even kept it from me, even when we met again. There was arguing, but at the time.. there wasn't any choice for my friend. My concocted 'family' wasn't real, my true relatives were all dead, and most of my former friends either thought I was dead or would stab me on sight. All the 'new' followers at the time were too far away to help, either, and remember.. I was technically bleeding out rather heavily.

I.. I thought he was an angel, my savior, my friend. Gold and silver and white, smiling down at me with a light shining behind him. Telling me everything would be okay as he unbound me and checked me for injuries. He, well.. in a way he WAS my Angel. Out of all the dreams of pain, death and torture he was my sole happy 'memory.' I didn't want to believe it was true, because.. I knew he was a proxy. He thought I was incoherent as he mumbled about how he hoped this would never happen, trying to talk about happier times. About how I used to be and how I could be again if I just held on. that everything would be okay. I believed him, even through all the subsequent pain and the doctors' prodding. David called a monster to help me, knowing he was the only one who could.

He opened my Pandora's Box and giggled with glee as he watched all the demons and turmoil spill out. Fucker. -sigh- Remind me to retuurn the favor if I can. I hear he's getting married soon. Heh. Maybe I'll be a party-crasher? Anyway. All of this rambling, and still I manage to avoid telling the truth. Well, I can say freely what I'd been poorly hiding. My handler is dead, as are most of the people that could connect me to my old misdeeds. My face is not so well-known, and hell, if you do connect the dots, all I need do is claim to be lying. Only one person in this world has concrete proof my visions, my words, or hell, even my past are true. He's sure as hell not telling. Fuck, he's not even speaking to me. Maybe that'll change after we speak again. Maybe he'll tell the story of how we met? My Angel, my friend, yes dear.. I do know your name, but I won't say it unless you prefer it.

I thought I was going to die as well, until I did some research once I got my laptop back. It's an occasion I believe I've been able to put off, thanks to all the ties that have been cut between myself and the organization. Yes, the paranoid kiddies in the back guessed right. I was (am?) a Gatherer, and I worked for the Grey hats, the Lonely Hearts. They are either the best or the worst of them, and I've dodged a bullet with their not realizing the bloody effects of the pocket watch. I'd be their pet, their guinea pig again. After collin died, I lost all reason to play the pawn. I answer to myself now with all the 'fun' side effects and loyalties that go along with it. So I'll tell you what, followers. I'm tired of writing about my past, about my angst. It's boring and trivial, and it is really just that. The past.

So, I'll start writing about whatever the flying fuck I want to again. Not that there's anything you can do to stop me. If any of you want to continue with your death threats, have fun. I don't care. to put it bluntly, "Not a single fuck was given that day." We've come full circle now. You know more about me, and I know much more about all of you. (More so than I really want to. -.-) Idgaf what you all think, as I'm a bit desensitized from all the threats and blood. Finally, I'll be writing to please myself again, just like I did in the beginning. I think I may try to make a difference in the verse soon, but maybe not. I'll need motivation, and possibly bribery to go near/stick my neck out for any of you after all of this.

One life debt remains, and to someone that wants me dead as well. Fuck it. Maybe I can help find a way to end his pain, maybe not. Fucker better stay the goddamn hell off my property from now on. Cannot get rid of those fucking scorch marks for ANYTHING, and I don't plan on adding to my beautiful little collection of scars anymore than I already have. (By the way, did you really have to drag me through the broken glass and fire? Were you really that sadistic of a bastard? Oh wait. Nevermind, Ferus, I forgot who I was speaking to.) So I suppose this is a return to the old ways until I figure out what the fuck I'm going to do next. Ask your questions, be a shipper, judge/condemn me all you like, kiddies. This post is over. Maybe now I can get some sleep. >.<



Alright, it's time to explain a few things. The night we came home, we found Gallows and Graves standing outside, just goofing off. He held up my wallet,and something snapped. I was suddenly tired of them all. I brought home two to mend and heal, and what did I find? Two more! Proxies, asking me to do the same. Not because they needed it. But because they wanted to fuck with my head. Because they knew I couldn't tell them no. I've never been able to tell someone no if they needed me, even if they were lying about why. Well... I confess. I ranted, I raved, and I may have been a bit of a bitch.

I stormed inside to cool off, and only re-emerged when i thought I'd be safe around knives and firearms. To my surprise, I found Josie had made an extremely late dinner, and everyone was sitting together, talking. Waiting for me, and getting along. Everyone was at least acting happy, with minimal stabbing attempts. I couldn't believe it. I think, honestly, i was shocked into keeping my mouth shut. That would become the "normal" for the time my, ahem, friends came to stay with me. Anyway. What have I observed since then? We went to sleep that night with no major fighting.

I woke to find myself spooning with a man. Can you guess who? Fucker wouldn't let me go at first, it wound up taking thirty minutes of bickering to spy him loose. Apparently, my bed is much more comfortable than the couch. Go figure. Shady threw a knife at him when he suggested sleeping with her. Graves... apparently doesn't sleep much, and simply stands at the window staring at... Something. Or somethings. She still won't tell me what she sees out there, not yet. And Josie, well, Josie cried when Gallows suggested it to her. Can you blame her? She would have been his constant pincushion, and I don't know how much bleeding she could handle. We only have so much blood, yes? Breakfast came and went. After a diet of "long pig,"(human flesh)..

Josie's pancakes must have been a bit foreign for G&G. She cooked. And cleaned. And tried to keep up all pretty happy. It was frankly amusing watching her try to make herself invisible, hiding in plain sight by making herself useful. I don't need a maid. She's my friend, she legitimately has the most right to be here. I wish she wouldn't be so scared all the time... more on her in a minute. Shady came in looking exhausted, her eyes red and bloodshot, her hair mussed and limp-looking. (What the hell, people? I have a shower! Fucking use it! I'm not some kind of monster...) She looked like she hadn't slept, like she had been crying the whole night long. People dying left and right, pain and destruction and betrayal... I pretended I didn't see.

Oh, that reminds me of what made me cancel my last post, the Advy one? I'd been typing from my cell after she pulled over to the side of the road. I glanced up near the end, and noticed she had left the car. She walked like a wraith to the treeline, and I began to worry. Unfortunately, I began typing as fast as I could, if all of my followers couldn't tell. At the very end, well, I heard her start screaming. Once, twice, then this constant banshee scream. She scared me more it that moment than she had at any time in the past. I cursed quite a bit to myself as well, I hadn't been paying attention. In lieu of our computers, we had each been.taking out our cell phones to check on the blogs. And well... the situations with people dying, and making... stupid mistakes, I should have realized, affected Shady more than I had thought.

All this was coming to me as she began to walk back towards me. I pushed "send" probably at least twenty times, and tucked it back in my jeans. I ducked down and pretended to be asleep maybe a minute before she got back to the car. It....didn't exacctly work. I think she knew I was faking, but for whatever reason didn't call me on it. By the way, Josie snores. I don't know how that'll "help" anyone, but she does. After breakfast our first morning, Shady hauled Josie outside and started "training" her in my back yard. Thank god for privacy fences and living in front of the woods, or I'd have been constantly worrying about the neighbors.

Josie was worse than I am. I at least know how to load and shoot a gun under pressure. Josie knew absolutely nothing about blocking or dodging, very little about when to run. I think... Shady got fed up at some point. Josie wasn't really trying, and Shady.. doesn't put up with bullshit. At all. She started goading Josie, something about being able to kill her parents but being unable to defend herself? "How pathetic." Josie, she snapped. She hauled off and punched Shady in the face. She acted damn near fucking possessed there for a minute. Then, she was right back to normal, switch flipped and panicking over whether her sparring partner was alright. Shady, she just snorted and threw her back a few feet. G&G glanced over from their own training off to the side to watch the commotion, and I realized something watching all of them.

I would be the least knowledgeable Fighter out there. It was enough to make me break out into a cold sweat. I wasn't sure who was best.. Graves, or Shady. Shady, who had no formal training that I knew of, could fight like she was fighting for her life. Maybe at that point, that's what shewas used to. She couldn't afford to get sloppy when she was fighting for all the reasons she was. And Graves.. Jesus. She was like a machine. A deadly, scarred, somehow beautiful machine. Even gallows gave her no issues. She could sidestep everything he could throw her way, and look bored while she was doing it. Why was she following HIM if she could so easily best him? It scared me. My mortality was so obvious to me then.. I ran. I wasn't running anywhere for certain, just AWAY. Then.. someone caught me. I'll explain what happened with that... later.

All of these posts, I've had saved in my blogger. Waiting for the day I could get to a computer, and type up what happened to me. To explain more of my dreams, and my beliefs, and... well, to start making it easier for other people to understand what was happening to me. I wasn't ready for anyone to know what had happened until after.. after I broke that radio. Something isn't right in my home, on my land, and I have a few suspicions as to what's causing that. Again, more on that later. I am... much better than I was before, thanks to my wonderful house guests. (Only minor sarcasm, here.) They've... been helping me so much. Much more has happened since all of these posts I've suddenly flooded the newsfeed with, but this.. is all I'm ready to share right now. No one needs to worry. Shady, and possibly the others will be telling their stories soon.

Still no ability to comment, or to really have any conversations outside of these posts. I stayed off for a reason. But, well.. just, soon. That's all I can promise. Email me at ritsuka.kairos@gmail.com if you need me (or want to talk), or need to discuss with me what I can't post yet. I'll answer there what I won't here.


My Collin

I'm looking into our living room, watching everyone sitting and living around me. Trouble is, the ghosts of my past are walking around them. Like a bad TV reception flickering on and off, I can see people walking and talking and passing through them, and no one is noticing.

I see myself smiling and laughing and talking with these beloved ones, my ghosts no one saw as I held them and even... kissing them? Shady is staring at me, watching me as I stand stock still and pause mid-sentence. Oh, I see my love, my Collin, and I crumble. Tears begin to fall as I sink to the floor, my knees bruising from the fall, me caring not even a little. Everything is just... so fucking hard to deal with now.

She's walking over to check on me, and I can't stop crying and the dead are flanking her on both sides. They're reaching for me, just as the insane did in that bizarre room of the Advocate's. There are no bars to stop these awful fucking specters. They're reaching and crying out for me at the same time, and I'm screaming and crawling backwards into a corner and hiding my face and holding my arms over my head, a selfish silly vain attempt to make them stop their begging, their pleading.

I'm curling into a ball, curling up into the smallest space I can possibly make. I can feel them touching me and pulling at my hair and caressing my face and I can hear myself begin to beg and plead with them in return... please help me please help me please help me make the pain stop please make them go away why are they hurting me why are they here, why can't I fucking forget these goddamn dead people and their stories and their lives?

They will not go away and I see this one, dark figure behind all the others, smiling down at me and... soaking in my pain. The last thing I see before I black out are my loved ones, my housemates staring at me and pulling me against their bodies. I don't know who, I don't know why, but I am grateful to know they are real and I am real and oh god the pain, the screaming has stopped. Then.. all I see is white.

He was so beautiful. My very best friend, the one I knew and cared for outside of the assignment. But, well, he was supposed to just be for information. One runner to another, you see, the kinds of things even constant spying couldn't provide. He was my friend, my lover, my confidant in all but my job. He never knew the truth. It was... Better that way.

 I was different then, you see. Before it all began to hurt and bleed. Before I quit. Or, well, tried to. I loved so many. They were my friends, souls connecting mine to almost another world. I wasn't so jaded then. I believed in what I was doing. I believed in myself, and it showed.

I literally glowed, to those that could see those kinds of things. I... dreamed of him again. That final, beautiful day that changed everything, that made me go to them and ask for that pocket watch. For the ability to forget. Shame it didn't last longer. Sometimes, it really is easier to begin again. What a price tag for so few months of absolution. I'll live the rest of my life in regret for that choice. They did this on purpose.

We walked that day, hand in hand, enjoying the sunlight on our faces as we took that path through the trees. We were so happy then. We were...foolish enough to go off the path. There was a lake off to the west, an adventure we had taken many times before. I ran ahead, taking my clothes off as i went. Laughing and smiling and asking to be chased. Those long, hot days we'd spend splashing in each other's arms, making love on the lakeside, they were so precious to me. In some ways... A part of me is still there on that path, waiting for him to find me, to love me again.

There was silence, and a pause too long. He had never waited so long to join me. I turned back to ask him if he was angry, what had happened to take so long. I saw.. A wolf. A woman slinking behind my Collin, a mask over her face, dark curly hair falling around it. I froze... And watched. I smiled to myself, and called out to him, telling him i loved him, to hurry up. I thought it a game, until..she pounced. Then i realized.

She slashed and tore and ripped, and he bled. Oh, the screaming he did. As i was powerless. As always, powerless. I could not interfere in this. She had her job... And i had mine. It took far too long for his whimpers to die down, for, well, him to die. Tears fell unnoticed as i watched my only love fall to what amounted to an ally. I knew not who she was or why she did it, but to move would mean death, more than simply mine.

She stood and walked to me, her hips swaying, his blood still wet on her lips. She was so fucking beautiful, so fucking horrible. "Which path will you take now?" She asked. "The path of needles, or the path of pins?" i stood my ground, unafraid of this belladonna. Finally...

I whispered, "What big eyes you have."

"They have seen fear, pain, death, and the beauty in all," responded the wolf.

Again I whispered to her, "What big ears you have." her mask was detailed wonderfully. "They have heard many an anguished cry and hate-filled curse." said the wolf.

Again, "What big teeth you have," silently pointing to the blood that was dripping down her chin. She smiled and licked it away. "They have found their homes in many to my satisfaction... And in this case, to yours." she couldn't resist that, no, she knew where i stood in this. I cleared my throat, and told her at last:

"You're lovely." She laughed, and lunged at me. She raised her blades near my face, but shook her head and ran past. She left me alone that day, with the blood and the tears and the pain.

She left me with her mess, his body, and a love destroyed. It was that day i lost my motivation.