My Story – #MeToo, @MarvelousError, Hannibal FanFiction

I had a whole life before you found me on the internet today. 

Did you know I started the #MeToo spreadsheet? Mmmmm hummm yeah. 

I started it from the shared work computer at the offices of Winning Mark at 1220 SW Morrison St in Portland, OR in early 2017. I sent it to two, not three, ladies of the Washington Education Association. 

I didn’t realize exactly what I was doing, or how big the spreadsheet would get. I deleted the original after a few days of not hearing back from Emily and Sam. But the idea had wings and the original spreadsheet, with my top of the charts submission of Harvey Weinstein, rocketed around the good folks of NYC, DC, and, of course, Los Angeles.

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The Dangers of Tinder

I started an unlikely relationship that spring. The night before the inaugural (and best) Women’s March in 2017, I matched with a juggalo kind of person in town for skiing. He was Pete. I talked to him a little, but left him unread and went to the Women’s March by myself.

Later that year, after getting some social validation from evangelical podcaster Rob Bell (and YouTube comedian Elliot Morgan, husband to Grace Helbig (now)(not then)), I started flirting with Peter Rollins, putting two and two together about him and Tinder. I emailed him a bit, but the real conversation was happening on Twitter, with me from my official account with about 450 followers (though, the right 450 followers), and he would mostly respond to me through meme accounts which I would like and unlike to respond. 

Because of the #MeGoo spreadsheet, things started heating up for me on my twitter account. Up until spring 2017, I had almost exclusively just liked and retweeted accounts. I got a creative bug in my bonnet and decided to let myself open up. I sent out a bunch of creative tweets and this got me writing scripts for Westworld Season 2, ‘Fleabag’ season 2, the lyrics for ‘The Greatest Showman on Earth’, and a Netflix movie about male maids and salvia.

In addition to tweeting, I had a black moleskin journal where I wrote the lyrics to what became ‘Meant to Be’ by Florida-Georgia Line and Bebe Rexa, ‘Little Dark Age’ by MGMT, ‘Havana’ by Camilla Cabillo, ‘Eastside’ by Benny Blanco, and ‘No Roots’ by Alice Merton. 

I posted a video of me in the sunshine flipping through the pages of the notebook on my lap to Twitter before I left from Seattle to Denver to meet Peter Rollins at an event he was hosting. 

The notebook was stolen from me at Denver International Airport on my way back to Seattle.

What happens if a car comes? We die.

Here’s what I remember happening: I tossed a “green lighter” into the trash can before going through TSA security; i did not throw the notebook into the trash can. I put my black La Pilage bag on the conveyer belt to be x-rayed and a man in an orange vest (not a TSA vest but I did not think to question this) and pulled my bag off the conveyer belt. He asked, “Whose bag is this?” I raised my hand. He took the bag away and I think went to a security screening room. I thought they were interested in seeing if I had anything to do with that green lighter in my bag. A few moments later, before I was through the mental detector, he came back and placed my bag back on the conveyor belt. I had to go a long way to my gate and didn’t look at my purse thoroughly until I landed in Seattle. Then, I realized the notebook had been taken, but I did not know who to contact or think to contact Denver International Airport or the TSA to see what happened. 

After the journal had been stolen, everything changed for me on Twitter.

The journal also had ideas for commercials, like one for Progressive involving a carabiner, branding for Peleton the exercise bike company, ideas for Factor Meals viability, some ideas for the psychology of noom weight loss, and up cycling clothing ideas.

And, of course, the lyrics. 

The notebook also contained my thoughts about American Democracy in the post-2016 election period. This influenced a lot of the conversation on Twitter, and things turned in a political direction. Most of the conversation was based around race and never saying the quiet part out loud. America is a racist country. And we are turning racism into the red badge of courage as innies and outies. 

The conversation on Twitter ended not on race, but on transgender rights. I had been influenced by a horrific person, Kathryn Bond Stockton, as part of a queer theory gender and sexuality course at the University of Utah. I used her work out of turn and without knowing the prompt for the big fight night of my life on Twitter. I also chose to dance. There was nothing I could have done to prevent things from going south for me because I was set up to fail by my brother, mother, Susan Patterson, and the powers that be. I would have steered clear from the transgender conversation and made music for my artistic talent. But that did not happen. 

The second I lost, I felt the gift of the Holy Spirit leave my body. And be replaced by the darkest, most evil presence I have ever felt, truly the devil. And I have been in a battle with the devil ever since. And he never wants to leave me at peace. 

It has taken nine long years for me to return to God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit, and receive back a portion of what I lost that night. 

Back to Black

I didn’t know what I had in my possession. Didn’t know how talented I am, how worthy of recognition and support, how lovable I am. 

I was going to therapy to deal with childhood sexual abuse, mental abuse, and verbal abuse as a 25-year-old who was making over $100k for the first time in my life. I trauma dumped on the internet about the abuse before i was healed enough and had my story and my feet under me. This was immediately weaponized against me and became a case of deny-reverse-accuse-victim-as-offender. the real predators, the people #MeToo and the Epstein files exposed, went straight at those pain points and triggers and never gave me a moment of peace from those triggers. 

I wanted those perps who hurt me and you too brought to justice. So I said part of the proceeds from my work and likeness could be used and edited appropriately to use in all those tv shows, movies, and songs could be used to fund the litigation of Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and other #MeToo cases.

Little did I know, they would take full advantage of me, taking full advantage of the Tweets and saying it gave them permission to abuse me, not pay me a penny for any of my work or my likeness, and make horrific toxic shameful disgusting a.i. generated images of me.

And to drive the knife in deeper, they stalked me and put motion capture cameras in my apartment, car, and used drones to surveil me everywhere I go. They use this content to create deep-fake content of me while also having hacked into my email, social media, and online presence manipulate me so thoroughly, I cannot get a word in edgewise with the truth.

My so-called friends and many members of my family were aware of this but did nothing to help, just joined in the bullying and calling me fat, stupid, worthless, and giving insider details about me online. The most pernicious people who did this is my former best friend Isabelle Gabosh and a childhood friend Susan Patterson who I have known since we were both 4 years old and I moved in across the street from her in what was then Littleton, CO and is now Centennial, CO.  

My Mind’s in a Phobia, a Phobia

The stress of this experience caused me to go from 135 pounds in 2018 to 338 pounds in 2023. I said I was nonbinary because I was experiencing such an altered state of reality and disassociating from my body. I, a 100% straight, heterosexual cisgendered female woman dated a trans woman, a cis lesbian women, and a bisexual cis woman even though i am a 100% straight, because of the pressure on me inside my head and on the internet during the height of covid which made me so hated and denatured from the simple truth of myself. The people fixated on humiliating me wanted to make me into a fetish sex object, an “it”, and the easiest way to do that was to make me a transgender lesbian. 

I never said I was trans, never used or wanted to use he/him pronouns. I used she/her/they/them and tried out they/them for about three months in 2022 and was promptly fired by my employer. I had to shave my head, not because I wanted to have a buzz cut, but because my hair had become to matted and smelly from months of leaving it up in a messy bun because I was so sick and unable to care for myself and my hair properly. 

Then there is the content made of me using a.i. They turned me into a literal pig and more horrible pornographic content made about me than you ever want to contemplate. I don’t know all the details, but it is out there. And people jack off to it to this day while making fun of me and calling me the monster. 

Da da diddumb da da di dumb dumb

I am not even human to these people. 

I am just an object to be humiliated, scorned, reviled. An object of revulsion, ridicule. Reviled, scorned. Subhuman, especially to people who think of themselves as almost God in their perfection. 

I am a Christian and have never looked at photographic, video, or anime porn in my life. 

I am a Christian and believe we are all God’s children and sex is a sacred act between a man and wife for the purpose of affirming their relationship and co-creating children.

I am a Christian and believe I was made for more than this hellish existence. I am only in this position because I do not have the financial or emotional support in my life necessary to pay for a lawyer and private investigator. 

I was seduced by smut in the 2000s as a teenager, thinking smut is not pornographic. Smut is pornographic.

So, you wanna be famous?

I enjoyed alpha/beta/omega mpreg smut and wrote a fanfic titled ‘Break into Blossom’ by Fleeting Sparks. As you may recall, ‘Fleeting Sparks’ was John Green (the famous YouTuber (along with his brother Hank Green) and adored young adult author.) The user name just popped into my head. I recall thinking, “I should google this before I use it.” Then something (fate? a bad energy? the devil?) told me to go ahead and use it. The gmail was available. So was the handle on AO3. 

Hannibal, the Psychiatrist’s Cannonball

I wrote a funny scene about Will Graham being caught on a hook and lured into a boys and girls (more or less) pool party as a 14 year old. This scene caused me so much shame and made me feel like a predator when in reality it is just a funny scene about some awkward, hard truths of being the special one at a boys and girls swim party. Time passes and hey, we are in our 20s now, let’s go to a bar and see where the night goes. Is Hannibal a cannibal in this one? I wrote on steamy sex scene. The only pornographic content I have ever created is that anal smut scene. And I wrote, “Kneel.” in Fleabag Season 2, if that counts. Anyways, in the fanfic, I thought I made it clear with a trip to the bar first that the sex was between adults (bars in Minnesota, as in the rest of the great U.S. of A, being 21+ establishments last time I had my ID checked.) But somehow this got turned into an underaged scene?

This story was taken down on AO3 by me in summer 2018, but not before someone? John and/or Hank Green themselves? My bet is Susan Patterson and her merry band of misfits, got ahold of it and made it a whole lot darker. And a whole lot more questionable in terms of questionable content. 

Shhhhs she’s SusieQ(iet), SuiseQt, SusieQt (don’t rat don’t rat don’t rattttttt quiet quiet shhhhhhhhhhhs.) 

I used the name patterson in the story as the murdered teen girl. This was a reference to the Disney channel original film, “SusieQ” which my childhood friend and I watched together. We both have strong memories of this film. I believe Susan’s father David “Dave” Patterson, who worked at Los Alamos in the 1980s, is the original QAnon poster. He had (has?) a Q security clearance and knows about the reference to the Disney movie. 

The Pattersons, Dave, Susan, and wife and mother Carol, are on opposite sides of the political spectrum. I believe he conspired that night when I lost the big fight at the end of August 2017 to not give me the prompt and goad me into making an argument for transgender rights. An argument I had no business making and no longer believe in at all. 

(Aside: do your hair whatever way you want, wear whatever clothes you want, wear whatever makeup you want, use whatever name you want, use whatever pronouns you want. NO spells NO to bottom surgery. NO spells NO to cross sex hormones. God bless us, everyone. Amen.) 

That got them a big win for Donald Trump, I was taken out at the knees (my creativity gone, my life hanging in the balance, fired from my job (I didn’t quit, I was fired) all so they all could bolster their egos by taking pot shots at me.

A note on my job at the time. I was working without a signed contract for Pilchuck UniServ Council as a Director. Pilchuck is a teacher’s union located in Everett, WA and is and is not part of the Washington Education Association. It is described as the most powerful local in all of the National Education Association. The morning after the big fight on Twitter, I was hauled in to an office at the Pilchuck building in Everett, given a pen, and was told, “You’re fired. We will pay you three months of severance pay. Sign these papers and leave.” I signed the papers. I didn’t even read them. I didn’t have the chance. I didn’t know I could argue my case. I was 25 years old, had just had the biggest shock and disappointment of my life, was grieving the loss of my grandfather (the only member of my family who would or could have supported me through this) who died in April 2017, and just signed the papers and never looked back. They asked for the keys and credit card back, I could have returned them but was so out of my mind and angry at the time I didn’t ever want to speak to any of them again. I wrote an email to several people I had worked with in 2016 and leading up to this point with the subject line, “I Quit” I said “I Quit” to say I am done playing this game. To be clear, I was fired. And not given the chance to argue my case. I wasn’t even given a copy of my termination paperwork. Well, hiring and firing paperwork, because I had never signed and employment contract to begin at Pilchuck. Just worked under the table. 

In a crazy choice, I went to Ireland in October 2017. While staying with Aisling Coghlan’s parents and sister, I showed up to Peter Rollins WAKE event. I had sent him a payment for the event in the summer, he sent an email stating, “You are crazy. Do not come.” All the while, the meme accounts were popping off. I sent him an email back stating: “Keep It.” Which is the origins of the “keep it” meme, ay @ira? Anyways, in Antrim, Peter came up to me after I had finished some soup and said, “You can’t be here.” I put on my headphones and left, not saying a word, no questions asked. He touched my shoulder and I didn’t stop or say anything. Just left, as I felt was appropriate when told, “You can’t be here.” 

I emailed Dr. Peter Rollins an edited digital copy of paper journals I had written during the 2016 election, omitting any confidential information and i also sent the journals to a publisher. These journals were used to break open my inner life and my way of talking and were probably fed to a.i. 

I wrote an email to Dr. Rollins stating, “I would like to lie back on your couch and have you psychoanalyze me.” This was flirting. It was not consent to treat. I never signed any paperwork giving Dr. Peter Rollins consent to treat me, nor is he a board certified member of any legal psychological or psychiatric licensure organization. To the best of my knowledge, he is more demented than the devil. He should never be given the privilege of being alone again. 

My last email to Peter Rollins was, “I’m sorry. I thought the real conversation was happening on twitter. I will not email you again.” 

The real conversation was happening on Twitter, just with another man. 

John Green was the man I fell in love with that summer, sending me prompts and editing the scripts and lyrics with me. When I was in Ireland, his book, ‘Turtles All the Way Down’ was published. I saw it everywhere, but did not buy it. 

On my final full day in Ireland, Halloween 2017 (the day of the Las Vegas shooting), I was in a youth hostel in Dublin looking for a hotel that would take American Express as payment because i had maxxed out all my other cards. A man who looked too old to stay at a youth hostel was sitting across the foyer from me. I heard someone say, “Hey, are you John Green? I recognized you from your author photo.” I was in the middle of booking a room at the airport Hilton and didn’t catch the full interaction. Hotel secured, I gathered up my things and left, passing a display of red panda cards advertising the Dublin Zoo. I didn’t make my own introduction to John Green, having just been humiliated by Peter Rollins at his shindy and having no idea John Green had any idea who I was, let alone was in that hostel specifically to get me to say hello to him. 

This slight, not saying “hi” to John Green when I had written this fanfic with ‘Fleeting Sparks’ as the moniker, and everything that went down with me behind my back on twitter with me as @marvlouserror and stuff that had been going on for years behind my back with nerdfighteria and youtube (Susan Patterson hacked my accounts in the 2000s-present and impersonates me online to this day.)

Why was I cancelled? Why was I famous in the first place?

One thing I want to explain is a video of me doing a salut. You know what kind. I did it as part of a school project where I was asked to make a joke about nazis. I asked my group (it was a group project) for help, but they wanted to push me off this cliff so bad. So I put up my hand and put up a video up on youtube about peer pressure and groupthink and public humiliation, and wasn’t able to get the video taken down, and I became the butt of the joke about peer pressure and groupthink and public humiliation. “Ring around das Juden, pocket full of posers, Auschwitz, Auschwitz, we get to kill you, loser.” (To put a fine point on it, this is a classic set up where they ring-around-the-Jew in the middle. In this case, Ms. Roth, Ms. Maddie Roth, Ms. Roth. And that SusieQ Ewell fell on her own knife. To Kill a Mockingjay, ay magpie?) 

And the video got chopped up and a.i. deepfaked to make it much worse than the original and here we all are on the brink of WWIII.

No one has spoken in my defense. I haven’t been able to speak in my own defense until now. 

I have been too sick with whatever was done to me using nazi technology.

Not to put too fine a point on it, my mind has been hijacked by the technology QAnon uses to target the neural circuitry and brain regions in my mind and monitor my thoughts, emotions, and physical feelings. I have been unable to concentrate, to feel deep feelings, to connect openly and honestly with other, to think deeply. I have been unable to read, watch movies and tv, feel the music, understand news reports, cook for myself, clean my apartment, wash my body, hair, and face. It seems like a mental illness, it seems like schziophrenia, but it is not. 

I am a targeted person. 

Enigma Machine technology QAnon worked on at Los Alamos being used to enforce The Third Reich of Dreams, killing my good thoughts before I can have them and stopping me from taking effective action in my defense. 

And as we all know, the best defense is a good offense. 

So here I am, LORD. Send me. And please send help.

It has been 8, almost 9 years, of me being disabled by the most powerful people in the world cancelling me for launching and funding the investigations and prosecutions into #MeToo and the Epstein files, while the deepfakes and soul stealing from Susan, Dave, and Carol Patterson got me cancelled over and over and over and no one cared about me enough to speak out in my defense, and all of this done with technology birthed from the bowels of Hitler-Goebbles-Mengle to keep me stupid, silent, and afraid. 

And I could not tell a soul for fear of being killed.

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead, but it really doesn’t matter with me now because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now, I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain, and I’ve looked over and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the Promised Land. So I’m happy tonight, I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” -Rev. Martin Luther King, JR