#can you imagine. i would die. i would remove myself from the internet.

[cheeriobox]

i think the funniest thing to come from the whole watcher thing is seeing everyone go "you're trying to be dropout, you are not dropout."

followed IMMEDIATELY by dropout dropping The Wenis

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I can kind of see why Hyrule reads as imperialistic to you in totk, but why do they read white? Sonia is brown and rauru is a black goat. What makes the difference between them and Ganondorf so bad?

Hey, thanks for the ask!

So... I have an answer, and it's kind of in layers. So I hope it's fine if I kind of go on Journey TM where I figure out my own feelings on the topic alongside you, the person reading! It's long! Kind of meandery! Sorry!!

Also, I had written a great version of this reply to this ask that Tumblr fucking ate and I'm furious about it, so this version is slightly more annoyed as a baseline because of Tumblr and not the ask itself. But I got stubborn and decided I would rewrite the whole thing tonight. So.

Here we go.

Layer One: My Basic and Unfiltered Gut Reaction

My first, potentially unwarranted gut-level reaction would be: I kind of think it's a stretch to consider them POC-coded. Sonia gives me more tanned Ariana Grande vibes than anything else, but that's... I mean, I'm aware that there are brown people with lushious blonde hair and blue eyes out there, that race as USA-infused Internet understands it is Complicated (I'm half-brazilian, and even though I'm very very white and don't consider myself biracial but bicultural, I had people discussing my ethnicity to my face a non-zero amounts of time, including quite recently, including in my own family! so I super get that it's more complicated than what I make it out to be here). But given vibes don't count as an argument, I completely get + accept if that reading on her ethicity is therefore dismissed. She could very well be brown. Fine by me.

(so, I feel like I have to add this borderline-conspiratory reason why I'm suspicious of her skin color being considered a factor here, which can 100% be dismissed but I still want to bring it to the table: I've been to several meetings and heard about many instances where "diverse traits" are being handed over to characters with the explicit purpose of using that diversity as shields against deeper criticisms of core aspects of the storytelling instead of fixing the storytelling itself, and honestly it could very well be the case here. I really hope it's just the team thinking Sonia would be prettier with a darker skin tone, because her design is genuinely lovely and I really like it, wish she didn't die like immediately and had a character arc of her own, but. Imagine the kneeling scene with two very white ladies and everything else, etc. It might be overly paranoid of me, but I can't help but squint a little bit in this specific instance, especially since the biracial trait here is so toned-down that it's barely there and barely committed to anything. Which would also make a good argument against this suspicion too tbh! Anyway. Just wanted to bring that up so you get the whole picture of where my brain is at.)

Rauru... Okay. Here's the thing: I can't unsee The Rauru. The original one I mean (and his Skyward Sword Gaebora counterpart), aka: the White Patriarch of all times.

(this has nothing to do with anything but Link's little recoil animation here is so funny to me, like he looks so shocked and his nose is so pointy)

I do think that removing the origins of this character from his DNA for TotK is kind of overly convenient when discussing this iteration, especially when his role in this game is basically a mixture of OoT Rauru and the Unnamed King of Hyrule (and every king of Hyrule that came after). I mean, okay sure maybe the Unnamed, Unseen King of Hyrule wasn't white but... it's obviously not true, right? And while I understand this is a different iteration of that character, many characters in the series maintain their base ethnicity across different reimaginings (even Blue Pig Ganon remains a gerudo at heart post OoT, at least in the way we keep on understanding him). And beyond this, given the fact that Rauru retains this energy of a Founding Father (in the largest possible sense), I feel that, at the very least, that patriarchal energy is extremely important to his character to a core degree.

But even so, yes. Rauru is now indeed a Goat Man. Not only is he a Goat Man, but he dresses in ways that are very inspired by mesoamerican cultures; undeniably so. So that would make him at least mesoamerican-coded, right?

I mean... I guess? I guess. Sure. But. I have now to introduce the Layer 2 of my argumentation, which is that...

Layer Two: Zonai Culture is Hylian Coded

So. Pretty bold claim I know. Let me explain.

Now I certainly do not want to say that mesoamerican civilizations are not *everywhere* in the aesthetic inspiration for the zonai culture in Tears of the Kingdom; I'm sure these real life references are overflooding the moodboards, from the color palet to the symbols to the artstyle, the costumes and the buildings. It's the main way the game communicates zonai-ness to us the player. And it's great! I wish they had went even harder in that direction (I think there's even pretty dramatic differences between the zonai ruins on the surface, much more interesting imo, than what was done with the actual zonai architecture at its peak).

But now, I will ask a question that I asked myself often while playing. What is zonai culture, beyond the feathers and the indented patterns and the swirls and the dangly bits? What characterizes it? I would say that zonai civilization is primarily interested in automation, technology, mining to develop said technology, and things that float in the sky. Beyond this, and from the limited perspective the game gives us through Rauru and Mineru, we see a society ruled by a patriarch (neutral term, it is just patriarchal in nature), married to a woman who is a priestess and doesn't seem to hold an equal amount of power (she doesn't speak as much, seems content to handle the religious side of things), who values collaboration and engineering prowesses, has an army, servants, robot servants, administrates other races through, to be docile and go the game's way, collaborativeness... It's Hyrule. It's just Hyrule, except older and with a different paintjob; but at heart, the style of society upheld by Rauru is very (eerily?) similar to what we get to know in the TotK/BotW era. Actually, this version of Hyrule seems extraordinarily similar to the Hyrule we get to see in BotW pre-Calamity: replace the zonai technology with the sheikah's, and what's the difference --except that this later version of Hyrule isn't trying to pass itself off as perfect? Zelda doesn't experience any kind of culture shock. Even the language seems to be basically the same. It is Hyrule, because it is. It's the origins of the kingdom. This is the whole point of the zonais: being that familiar thing that we know and love, except more pristine and more glorious and more mysterious so we can be sad when it gets destroyed.

So is it aesthetically inspired by mesoamerican cultures? Yes. Does it evoke specific details about said culture? The way politics and religion interconnect perhaps (unless we consider Rauru coming from the gods as such, but it's nooot super specific and not really elaborated upon)? What that culture valued, or what we assume it once valued? Cultural shortcuts we tend to make with these cultures, for better or for worse? I may be extremely uncultured here, and if that's the case I apologize, but I never really saw any of the aspects highlighted as the core pillars of the zonais commonly associated with either mesoamerican ancient civilizations, or current living native decendants of these civilizations. The biggest connexion or shortcut I see is the "mysterious ancient advanced civilization", which is pretty vague and was honestly more convincing in BotW.

Then of course, it doesn't invalidate that connection. But now, as a point of comparaison, to see what happens when Zelda takes active steps in coding one of their fantasy races... Let's take a look at the gerudos, shall we?

(Urbosa appreciation break. She's just so freakin cool look at her goooo!!! okay now we can keep going.)

I have said my whole spiel about the gerudos about a bajillion times now so I will try to make it quick. My tl;dr is: gerudos were always meant to be culturally disruptive. It's their whole point in the Zelda series. I won't rehash the whole thing about the crescent moon, the orientalism etc, but I think it's important to remember that they are meant to be considered foreign in a way no other Zelda race ever is. What I mean by this is, if we return to OoT: they are the only race hostile to Hyrule enough to not only consider and carry out an invasion, but to forbid entrance to their territory if you are not one of them. They have a different (apparenly evil-looking) god and their ears are rounded when everyone else is some sort of elf, their script is different, their cultural values are different, it's a weird semi-matriarchy where the man-king's occasional patriarchy has a very different social role than the king of Hyrule even if we don't get to see all the details... Won't return on the thievery and the 90s islamophobic kick of that time period, but the gerudos were very obviously crafted to be culturally deviant to the Hylian norm; their difference so great that getting accepted by them is an actual fighting and infiltration challenge. And even though they are much friendlier in TotK/BotW, they are still, by far the most innaccessible and different race out of all the rooster of, and it's worth mentioning, fish-people, bird-people and rock-people. They are the only one with their own language, their own strict rules that oppose your freedom as a player, a series of side-quests that directly address the subject of culture clash and differences; and, even then, they still parallel the real life western fantasy about the Orient TM (even more-so in TotK I would say, which I didn't love): the locked-in harem foreign men are forbidden to enter. This core idea is so entrenched that it becomes gameplay.

When it comes to Ganondorf, the parallel remains, more present than ever: in that game he gets to embody the foreign, cruel, brutal, cunning, manipulative, uncomfortably feminine at times, envious, physically intimidating, oppressive Man of the Desert in a long tradition of Men from the Desert and the rich legacy of literature and movies that portray them. It's not new to TotK, to be very clear: but TotK did double-down on the trope at the cost of Ganondorf's specificity as a character instead of questioning the trope that birthed him the way the series had tried to do in the past (even TP wasn't that bad, doing away with a lot of the baggage altogether --for better and for worse).

So to me... saying that zonais are mesoamerican-coded, in a world where we simply do not actively interact with these cultures all that much anymore (not at all to minimize the very real oppression of their descendants and the extreme and sickening violence their ancestors were met with to be extremely clear --I'm just saying that the violence wouldn't have worldwide cultural resonance in the same way and I don't think would have much reality in Japan unless, again, I'm saying dumb things and in that case please do correct me), or the extremely mild and non-invested way Zelda handled these cultures (to me it's much more costume than coding), positively too (good!), and comparing them to the active coding of the gerudos (and especially Ganondorf) as a means to equalize them as "basically the same thing" feels... a little off to me.

But! Now we're getting to the last layer!!

(you have no idea how long I searched for this gif, I typed "Ganondorf kneeling" in the gif search, like a fool, and parsed through much, much horniness to finally find my little dude anyway layer 3!!!)

Layer Three: It Isn't What Actually Matters Now Is It (at least according to me, the person writing this post)

Honestly, I don't really care whether Rauru and Sonia are white-coded or not. They could be, they could not be, cool by me either way. I don't really care if the zonai culture is meant to stand-in for mesoamerican cultures for Real for Sure or not, and heavily doubt it was done to increase diversity (otherwise Rauru wouldn't be, like, a Goat-Man but just a brown man). I do appreciate the visual diversity of the cast of NPCs, that hylians can look like a whole number of people and it's really cool Hyrule is moving into that direction instead of being very typecast into a sort of Japanese-ish representation of western middle ages/fantasy/fairy tale thing.

But at heart, what bothers me between this whole dynamic has less to do with whom is coded as whom than the fact that this game twisted itself into knots to tell a very suspiciously clean story about its complicated world and complicated history, and I feel like it's completely fine to ask for more than the bare minimum of visual representation and question the way these characters get to interact with each other and how their real life struggles are meaningfully talked about in the worlds Nintendo spend millions crafting? Sometimes, what they do is already great! Sometimes it's half-great! Most of the time, it could be so much better --especially when some of these subjects have been talked about to death for over 25 years (sorry to beat that dead horse one more time btw)

At the end of the day, the story itself is strange for many reasons. The power dynamic between the characters is attempting to be several things at once; maybe it's not on purpose, but either way, the world TotK paints is a strange one that only holds itself together if we accept to take it at face value. Which we don't have to.

And to me, TotK felt particularly shallow in that specific department of representation due to the whole... Imperialist Vibes thing (the other ask about this is queue'd, it's coming!), which nullified a lot of these efforts for me. It's not only about who's represented, but how they are represented as well, and, very importantly, why.

[mediocre-eternity]

You have something autistic going on with you (lovingly) <3

I’ve seen this theory about myself roll around this website for some time now. I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought on this… though again— I think the books my coven has published have only served to bring you closer to us and not us closer to you.

I’ll explain.

To you, I am a character in a novel. And I do this, too— relate to characters in novels all of the time. I see myself in many, many people on the TV screen or movie screen. I think “they must get it.” But they are fictional characters. What you need to understand about myself and my cousins in the Blood is that you are first and foremost our prey. And though we may flirt and dance and talk with you, maybe even call you friend, your amazement by who we are is second to our natures as killers. I would not hesitate to rip the throat out of any mortal I see fit. So, I cannot be categorized in a way humans are. Whatever horrific atrocities live in my memories, whatever quirks I may have as a result cannot be conceptualized in a way a human could ever understand.

For example, I have such a mastery of the Mind Gift most humans don’t understand they are dead until I’ve done sucking from them. And even then, most die peacefully in a bed of roses, thinking perhaps they might just take a nap. Then they are gone, without any knowledge of who I was or what I was. And though I may use my real name on this website, you, reader, have no idea who I am and wouldn’t recognize me even if we were standing face to face. Do not look upon me as a human because simply, I am not.

Now, that being said. I do have self awareness. I am not a benign creature lost in their own era because I am hundreds of years old. I can understand things. I see that when other’s dissect my carefully curated novel persona, they tend to write me as a person who has many difficulties grasping what they might be going through in their own minds.

I know I’m not normal. I know I don’t share commonalities with others like me. I don’t see or experience the world they do, even though we are all damned immortals. I understand entirely that I do not speak as much as I think and as much as I’d rather just convey my thoughts to others outright. I am better at lying than most, too…

Oh and I fall into these horrible pits of non-existence where I can tune out rather large swaths of time for myself (which is what I’m trying not to go through now, for Daniel’s sake). If allowed and in good company, it can be extremely hard for me to stop talking (another reason why I’d prefer if I can just exist mind-to-mind). If something catches my imagination, I ruminate and write about it for days, months, sometimes years. I read obsessively…the same book over and over and with music too, until I remember the timing of the notes out of habit. There are episodes of shows on the television that I can recite back to front. And movies. Dune, most recently.

I have a reputation as a hyper-sexual and though I enjoy sex, sex as a tool is something I’ve perfected and there are periods of time where I can completely remove any emotion from the act and use my raw talent at seduction to get what I want. I am such a master at sex, it’s merely a routine characteristic of mine.

Those closest to me become frustrated because it’s so extremely hard for me to understand simple directions. The “packet on the glass” meme has been quoted to me many, many times. I am so well aware of the joke in this. Daniel uses it as a way to torment me when he’s trying to explain how to work something out. I would rather just explore the internet for hours…or ponder a new genre of music than understand the minutiae of tit and tat.

I’ve had to make considerable effort to drone out the horrible, torturous nuisance of modern New York City police cars. No longer is it a deafening alarm, but now a horrific rumble that makes my heart and stomach feel like they’re going to explode. It’s taken years to live comfortably with them and they’ve driven me to intense violence in the past.

“Attenzione! Pickpocket! Attenzione! Borseggiatrici!” Has been on repeat in my head for seven solid nights.

Furthermore, I am friends with many a vampire made within the last few decades. Most notably Benji, who I share many, many commonalities with including our young age in which we came into the Blood. Benji always remarks “oh I have ADHD, I’m ADHD, it’s my ADHD” and he was, truly, given a diagnosis for this before many children were, according to him. He believes this is because he was “in the foster care system” and a refugee so they wanted to give him a label as soon as they could. Whoever they are. (Again, me and Benji even share our beginnings as boys in a family of other boys. Though he had no softness from any Master to aide him).

The most interesting conversations have come from us comparing our lives to each other’s. Benji can get locked into one task or one hobby for hours on end as time passes and passes. We both need to be completely alone on our own terms…

I suppose what I mean to convey is that I’m well aware of these little labels that humans might call each other, or some medical diagnosis that might explain why my humor is off or why others are so terrified by my silence… Why it takes me several attempts to convey a mundane idea verbally or even why I clasp my hands a certain way! If a reader finds a kindred spirit in whatever idea of me that they have, then I’m overjoyed that my novelization has shown some camaraderie to you. And, learning of other’s perceptions and experiences has indeed helped myself, too.

My above warning to you, though, mysterious friend, is to not make a habit of finding commonalities with monsters. My kind feasts upon your kind nightly. In great quantities. And any malady or neurodivergence will not, and cannot, protect you from a very unlucky night.

Autism, ADHD, boarder-line, bipolar… What wonderful new ways science has advanced to help the human race.

But all I care about is your Blood.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

What Not To Say

     I am writing this piece not as an angry or annoyed person although I can understand why you might think I am.  The reason I am writing this piece is to help people understand things from the side of the fence that I happen to be standing on.  I used to be on your side of the fence but reluctantly I have been dropped onto the other side now.  I now have the perspective of being on both sides of the fence, something that you probably don’t, unless you are unfortunate enough to be in the same exclusive club that I am in.

     If I trust you enough to share my terminal diagnosis with you, when I ask you not to share it with anyone else I mean just that.  If you are married, yes, I think it’s okay to share it with your spouse but no one else.  I happen to be a deeply private person and I strongly dislike the thought of being the latest topic of gossip among friends or former coworkers.  Think about it, I trusted you enough to tell you some intensely personal information about myself, and you betrayed that trust by then sharing it. Regardless of why you did it, you betrayed the trust that I had put in you.  There is a good chance I won’t make the mistake of trusting you again.

     If you are a religious person then I am grateful for your prayers and well wishes.  Please, please, please do not talk to me about being saved or finding my personal saviour.  Please do not ask me to pray with you because quite honestly I don’t want to.  I have tried to live a good life and be a good person, if there is a God and he/she doesn’t think that is good enough then I guess I am headed for eternal damnation.

     Please don’t tell my wife what she has to do, or what she should do for me.  I appreciate you may do this out of concern for me but you are stepping over a line that you have no right stepping over.  You are visiting for a few hours or days, she is living this diagnosis as much as I am, day in day out.  I would suggest that I am now her full time job, but that would suggest she is only looking after me forty hours a week, she isn’t.  She is there sun up to sun down, and then all through the night.  You may not see it, but she is my very own super hero and I could not possibly ask for more than she is already giving me.  She deserves your support as much, if not more that I do.

     Please don’t tell me how important it is to remain positive.  I am positive that I am going to die, probably sooner than you, and certainly sooner than I had planned.  You tend to tell me to remain positive right after you have asked me how I am doing.  You asked and I told you, I didn’t go on about it, I just answered your question because I thought you had asked me sincerely wanting to know.  I am accepting of my situation and would be grateful if you would be as well.  We don’t have to dwell on it, and if you don’t want to know then just don’t ask me.  Last point here before I move on, please realize that I happen to think I do have a positive outlook, but the horizon I see from where I stand, or sit actually, is significantly different than the horizon that you may see from where you stand.  Let's just agree our perspectives on being positive may be different.  Maybe just getting out of bed today was a huge positive step for me, far bigger than you can imagine.

     Please don’t tell me about your second cousin once removed that went to Mexico or some eastern European Country for some miracle treatment and was saved.  This also applies to cures or treatments that you have read about on the internet.  I am not interested in chasing false hope with what little energy that I have left.  I am putting my trust in the Medical Specialists who are supposed to be the most knowledgeable about my disease and following their direction hoping that they have my best interests in mind.  Yes, I am also putting a lot of faith in those large profit hungry Pharmaceutical Companies hoping that their obscenely expensive drugs are helping me more than they are hurting me.

  Okay, here’s a biggie, never tell me you know how I feel.  You don’t.  I could go on and explain this more, but I think we can both agree that I shouldn’t need to.  You just don’t.

     This is my philosophy about my illness, and it applies to adults and children, If you have a question and want to know about how I am doing or about my illness, it is okay to ask me anything, really anything.  Having said that if you are uncomfortable talking about my illness that is okay too, I won’t force unwanted information upon you.  I am an open book, open me or leave me closed, I am good with either. 

     So as I am wrapping this up I want to apologize.  I know that learning about my diagnosis might be tough emotionally for you.  After all if it happened to me it could happen to you right?  Maybe I have just thrown your own mortality in your face, and that might make you very uncomfortable.

     So now I shall subject you to some unsolicited advice, I feel it only fair after telling you all the things not to do that perhaps I suggest a few things that maybe you could think about doing that would be helpful.  Be there, show up, don’t become a ghost.  The kindest thing that you can do is to just continue being my friend.  If you can come visit, please do.  If you can help us get some things done, please do.  If you can give my wife a few hours or days off, please do.  If you can have us come and visit, please do.  If you live far away, call, text, email, set up a weekly video call, just keep being my friend because I really need friends these days, they help me get through my tough days.  The friends who have become ghosts, well they make me sad because obviously I was wrong about the kind of friend I thought they were, having said that I also accept that some people are just ill equipped to deal with my situation.

     Yes going through this can be a very valid test of friendship, I assure you if you were in my position some of your friends would really surprise you by the amazing things they might do for you, and other friends by how they just suddenly disappear from your life.  

     So in closing this off, let me ask you these two questions.  What kind of friend are you?   If you were in my position, which of your friends would step up and be there for you?

[throwaway-yandere]

You know what, I think purple friend is better. Imagine if you ate a whole bulb of garlic instead, white friend wouldn't really sit wellPFFT

*snaps fingers* I forgot I sent that sketch, I was so focused on my wife's birthday - OMAYGHAD I'M SO SORRY IT LOOKS SHIT I HAVEN'T DRAWN IN A YEAR ALDHEOELWND BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE OUT OF RICE, YOU JUST BOUGHT SOME DAYS AGO

Wait yes sorry it looks horrible, I also should have asked first so I would know how much gender envy you wanted pfft - why are we investing our stocks on the man we want dead? - looking at your persona just mad me notice the really cool second set of eyes detail! Anyways that was fun, I die everytime I remember it

Wish ko-fi had Gcash connected so I can make you eat more onions too, it's healthy for you! Stop rEMOVING IT FROM YOUR PLATE, WHAT ABOUT ONION RINGS HUH

heck yeah!!! so cool that someone noticed that i have two pairs of eyes lololol (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!!!! My train of thought when creating the internet persona was

"It needs to have glasses and it has to look androgynous as much as possible just like irl me... It's supposed to be a reflection of myself so how do I make this persona look as dumb as I am... I'm dumb af, even if I have two pairs of eyes I still wouldn't see any red flags that's why I'm running a yandere blog– oH LET'S MAKE THEM HAVE RED GLASSES SO THEY WOULDN'T NOTICE ANY RED FLAGS HAHAH–"

Honestly... I have no idea why I'm investing in this company– probably just for Alice lmao other than that I don't want wanna beef with Alhaitham everyday–

AND HEY HOW DARE YOU YOUR DRAWING IS GREAT:

ajdjaoa also pls good lord don't send me anything unless i could pay it back ysiakdkwoaoa aND NO I WON'T EVER STOP REMOVING THE ONIONS– onion rings and garlic bread are gucci tho– bUT OTHER THAN THAT NO I REFUSE–

Edit: ALSO SHT FORGOT TO MENTION: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUR WIFE BY THE WAY 💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

[16woodsequ]

Can I have some more Steve headcannons please?

Okay! *rubs hands together* Today is a kind of ‘meh’ day for me, so Imma hype myself up with some headcanons ^^

Previous headcanon post, and second one.

TW: discussion of PTSD and panic attacks, and just general angst

Alright *checks notes* first headcanon:

Steve knew about the bugs that SHIELD had in his apartment before Fury told him.

I really like this headcanon, and I put it everywhere. But basically, I think that Steve is smart and observant enough to have found the bugs that SHIELD put into his apartment. 

So why would he leave them there? That feeds into another headcanon that I sort of mentioned before, that Steve likes to underestimated. Obviously, SHIELD thought that he either wouldn’t suspect them to bug his home, or he wouldn’t be tech-savvy enough to find the devices. I think Steve wanted to keep it that way. If he removed the bugs, then SHIELD would know he found them, and would react accordingly.

I think Steve would decide it was better to know where the bugs are, rather than remove them and risk having SHIELD put more in that he can’t find. Also, if SHIELD thinks that he doesn’t suspect anything, then they will think whatever they get from his apartment is genuine.

Usually in my mind, SHIELD only implants audio bugs, instead of visual, and they leave his bathroom without bugs.

This is important cuz, for extra angst, now we get to imagine Steve trying to manage his PTSD in an apartment that he knows is bugged. 

As you might know with my ‘SHIELD’s A+ Parenting’ headcanon, I fully think Hydra was willing to let Steve struggle with his PTSD, and I doubt they would have done anything if/when they learned about it... but Steve doesn’t know that. So now we have Steve trying to cover for his PTSD in his own home, and the only respite his has is maybe the bathroom.

With audio feeds only at least, he only has to worry about not making a lot of noise during his flashbacks/nightmares etc, but that is still a lot of pressure. (And don’t imagine Steve curled up and panicking on the floor of his bathroom, cuz that’ll just make you sad).

More SHIELD A+ Parenting/ Hydra is terrible

Going along with Hydra-being-inside-SHIELD-didn’t-help-Steve’s-PTSD: If SHIELD gave Steve some kind of counsellor or psychologist after he woke up from the ice, then I headcanon it was a Hydra agent.

That is terrible for several reasons. For one, Steve’s first experience with modern psychology would be with someone - unbeknownst to him - who did not actually want the best for his wellbeing.

Second, and going along with that, if his Hydra-therapist were to be less helpful than would be ideal, Steve wouldn’t know the difference really, and the people at SHIELD would not suspect that there was a problem. They would think he was getting psychological help, when in reality, he was getting anything but.

This would explain why SHIELD dropped the ball so hard with Steve.

Third, after SHIELD, I imagine Steve would be reluctant to get actual help. At some point he is going to have to learn what actual therapy is like. And, maybe, when Natasha puts all of SHIELD’s records onto the internet, he finally learns the his original psychologist was Hydra. That would be extremely violating, and I imagine it would take him a long time afterwards to trust going to a therapist at all— even with encouragement from Sam.  

Final headcanon for the day, and going along with the terrible Hydra psychologist: Hydra and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Cabin

This one gets my blood boiling because it is actually canon that SHIELD (/Hydra), sent Steve to “The Retreat” at some point after he woke up from the ice. (This is mentioned in Agents of SHIELD, not in the movies.)

What is The Retreat you asks? Here is the wiki on it, here is the gist:

This safe house retreat is a log cabin that is lined with the same vibranium alloy that is used in "The Cage" on the Bus. The S.H.I.E.L.D. battering ram took a long time to penetrate the door, even though it took very short for them to penetrate the highly armored SUV of Nick Fury. The kitchen was fully equipped with a fridge, sink, and microwave. The living room has a few couches, however, they are very uncomfortable. There is a computer in one corner. A laser fence also lines the perimeter of the property, keeping everything inside contained. Security cameras show everything that happens along the area.

 So. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, with security cameras everywhere, and a laser fence around the perimeter.

In other words. A very fancy cell.

*unidentifiable sounds of rage*

Okay. *breathes*. So. We don’t know when, or how long Steve stayed at the cabin (Coulson said ‘after he was defrosted’ and ‘a few weeks’), but, as you can imagine, I have headcanons about those.

Usually I headcanon that Steve is at the cabin for about two weeks, and that SHIELD/Hydra sold it to him as ‘a quiet place were he can catch up on what he missed’. Meaning that they left him there with all the files of the history he missed and told him he could leave once he was finished going through them.

I imagine his (hydra) therapist told him that in order to pass his psych exam for SHIELD, he would need to go to The Retreat. Which is wonderfully manipulative, because it would force Steve to go through all those (probably traumatic) files all by himself if he wants to a) leave the cabin, and b) work for SHIELD (and you can bet that his hydra-therapist made it seem unlikely that he would be able to manage working anywhere else in the 21st century.)

Now, headcanons as to when he did this. I have two separate versions that live side-by-side in my head:

One: SHIELD did this to him before the Battle of New York. 

This is just sad because it would mean that Steve spent two+ weeks isolated and alone, reading up on everything he missed, but not really being able to learn about and experience the world he woke up in, before suddenly having to fight aliens and meet his dead-friend’s son (who is 15 years older than him) shortly after finally getting out. 

If you want a reason for Steve being high-strung in Avengers, and doing his utmost not to show his PTSD because then he might get sent back to the cabin? Then there you go.

Two: SHIELD sent him to the cabin after the Battle of New York. 

I don’t know why, but unlike a lot of people, at the end of Avengers, I didn’t assume that Steve was driving off on his motorcycle to ‘see the world’ or whatever. I instinctively interpreted it as him just driving back to his apartment.

So, if we decide that Steve decides he wants to join SHIELD at the end of Avengers, then that is when SHIELD/Hydra might decide to send him to the cabin.

Which is just great cuz I’m sure fighting aliens and watching people die only a short while after waking up from the ice was just great for Steve and he didn’t need any support or anything during that time. Nah. Isolate him alone in a cabin. Should be fine. 

If you want a reason for Steve distrusting therapists and never wanting to admit having problems because he thinks that basically institutionalizing people is still a legitimate technique? There you go.

One day I will write a fic about this bloody cabin, but I haven’t yet.  

So yeah. SHIELD/Hydra sucks. And Steve suffered for it.

Apparently we got really angsty headcanons today, but they were fun to share! I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more headcanons let me know! 

Headcanon masterpost

[undergrounddweller89]

NOTE : THIS IS A SPIES IN DISGUISE AU, WALTER IS THE CRIMINAL MASTER MIND AND KILLIAN IS THE SCIENTIST

THIS DEFINITELY CONTAINS SEXY TIMES

Not well written though probably and I tend to rarely go through my work to look for mistakes.

Despite Killian being kidnapped and handcuffed EVERY THING IS CONSENSUAL... Tristan is crazy obsessed with Beckett so he's very happy.

Now you've had your warning you read this instead of scrolling past that's on you, lemon is a tag used for stuff like this but if you feel like there are other tags I need to use please do tell me!)

The bag was stuffy, head phones covered his ears, they'd knocked off his glasses in their struggle to capture him, he could barely see without them.

Now his hands were cuffed behind his back, a hand on each upper arm, honestly Tristan was terrified, the car ride seemed a life time, though realistically it was only ten to fifteen minutes long.

He'd pleaded saying he was a no body just a scientist the agency threw in the corner and that no one ever took him seriously.

He was hunched, trying to tuck his head into his shoulders, so this was how he was going to die.

He felt every bump of the car and turn, trying to map out where he was going but he didn't recognise this route, usually he rode every where on his bicycle, deep blue with a silver bell and a basket on the front to pick up dinner on his way home...

Home where he could research the Criminal Master mind Walter Beckett ...to a near unhealthy obsession...alright it was unhealthy when you imagined him pushing you back against the table parting your thighs, fucking you and making you look at him by holding your head with his clawed hand....

Fuck was he going to die thinking about Walter, a man who didn't even known he existed...well he had no one, nothing living to care about...he might as well think of someone who made him happy even if only in his fantasies before he died right.

He was pulled from the car where he tried kicking at his handlers, Tristan didn't get very far though as one of them punch his gut winding him, he was wheezing as he was taken out of the vehicle.

"You know he's gonna kill you for that right."

The first handler smacked the second on the back of the head

"Only if this limp dick tells him, he's too much of pussy to squeal."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, but Im not covering your ass."

He was dragged through the facility, Tristan refused to make it easy to carry him and went limp.

Both handlers groaned, fuck, great a difficult one, well the first wasn't going to risk hurting him into compliance and the second knew he was on thin ice, if that punch had bruised him their boss was literally going to kill him.

Other workers watched as they went by, another two carried Tristans legs who now tried to struggle again, what the hell was going on!

He was sat in a chair with ease, after all their boss was right there, the workers didn't dare handle him as if he were anything less than a handle with care package with fragile taped all over him.

"Well are you going to take that off him, it's a little hard for dramatic entrances when he can't even see me."

"Yes sir, right away."

The bag was pulled off swiftly with the headphones clattering to the floor.

Tristan squinted, everyone looked like blurs, he could see faces only as different coloured splodges, his hair sticking up in different angles, shoulders aching now, he still sat up right, heart racing

"Where are his glasses?"

Tristan turned to where he heard the man speak, it was cold, commanded respect...familiar but no it couldn't be...

"Sebastian, where are his glasses?"

"I ah, James you see knocked them off in the struggle and-"

A metal arm, supporting four claw digits at it's end clasped his face

"What did I tell you about people with glasses, remove them, keep them what Sebastian."

He had brought the man to his knees holding so tightly Sebastian could feel his skull on the verge of cracking, he let out a cry as he managed to finish the sentence

"Safe!"

"Oh good you can listen to orders, now James..."

He'd let go of Sebastian and beckoned over his other crew member, Tristan knew this voice but it couldn't be him, he must still be disorientated.

"James, what have I told you about harming what belongs to me."

He said softly, curling his his claws around James's tie, Sebastian stepped back, well he had warned his coworker and with a snap and flick of his wrist the tie had been pulled so hard and tight the man's neck had been snapped.

"He had trouble following orders, first few times is understandable, you're settling into this new life but after five years it should not be that hard."

Tristan wished he'd had his glasses because if this was Walter Beckett he would have just witnessed one of Becketts trade mark moves and yes maybe would have gushed like a fan boy.

He was going to pretend it was him until he could see at the least and imagine he was kidnapped by Thee Walter Beckett.

He listened to him calling in clean up crew and for someone to bring up the glasses, his shape coming in closer and closer, it had to be him, the silver blurred limb was on his left, the hair colour.

"Awww poor baby..."

The younger man cooed.

Tristan tried very hard not to lean into his touch when his hair was stroke back and felt the Claws against his scalp

"Don't worry now, my useless men have been dealt with, come on now look up at me."

He didn't exactly give Tristan a choice as he place a claw under his chin

"See, now Mr Mcford I know I have my fans, the ones who do their fanart, their fictions whatever you will, I keep an eye on anyone who searches my name out of curiosity..."

He tapped his nose

"You Mcford like clock work will watch videos that have only the briefest flash of me, pour over articles, fictions..."

He smirked tracing one long metal claw along his jaw

"Reader x Walter Beckett, but you got tired of them, skinny little me always being pinned, submissive, no, no you wrote your own, named yourself Killian, nice name by the way, where I owned you, laid you back and made sure you knew who you belonged to."

Tristan was red, he was so fucking red and wanted the bag back on his head

"But Im not here to embarrass you, you're actually a good writer and it was the first one I ever enjoyed myself to."

Tristan wanted to implode, die right there, hearing Beckett had fucking masturbated to his little story, he let out a whine then hung his head, trying to hide how much that effected him.

The crew came up and pulled the body from the room and handed Walter the item he'd requested

"Face me now, unless you prefer being half blind."

Beckett held his face with his human hand, finger tip tracing a cheek bone, my they were sharp weren't they, what a pretty scientist.

Placing the glasses on, small lights flickered then settled.

"They read your eyes and the lenses adjust to the prescription you need."

Walter explained now casually sitting on Mcford's lap, an arm around the back of his neck.

"I'll cut to the chase, as I said we check everyone who even so much as types my name out of curiosity and when I found out you were working for the agency that has reaaaally caused a lot of problems in my life I researched you."

Tristan was staring, no way did Walter not feel the protruding problem down below, you would literally have to be either dead or have no feeling in your body to not notice that, he was still, he listened to him, was he having a wet dream, it had to be a dream right?

"Besides my uh Internet history...what...what did you find out."

"Oh you know, that you're an under appreciated scientist who came up with designs so dangerous they had to lock them away...and I may have slightly stolen them, now while I could personally and am the only qualified person here to build such delicious technology...."

He slipped his hand under Tristans lab coat, slowly rubbing his palm against his chest and smirking at the shakey breath and the way Tristan adjusted his hips, oh he could certainly feel that reaction

"I have an evil empire to run...I need you Tristan, I want you..."

He leaned in closer, lips nearly at his.

Mcford whined, fuck he was close Walter hadn't even done anything but the raised brow and smirk on Becketts face told him he could feel him twitch and gasped as the hand that'd been on his chest traveled down a finger tip teasing the head of his cock through his pants.

"How do you feel about working for me Tristan, build your machines and what ever else comes to mind, I need someone as competent as myself..."

Walter kneaded him slowly, to the point the slow pace was painful, his mouth was open and another ragged breath left him, this had to be a wet dream a really, vivid wet dream, please don't let his alarm go off...he pressed against his neck, forehead on his shoulder as Walter stroked the back of his neck with metal Claws, cool against his flesh.

Even if he was awake, of course his answer was yes....

"We could even build something together, I'm sure you'd just love to see me work..."

Beckett leered.

Walter was so warm, he was here, touching him, fucking touching him, dragging it out and making him nearly beg and he loved it.

"Yes..."

Tristan panted, lifting his hips trying to get more friction, he still had his handcuffs on he couldn't reach out and touch the man he wanted, his wrists struggling instinctively to part.

"Look at me and say it, Tristan."

That purr went through Mcford's entire being, lifting his head whimpering, biting his lip, he loved the tease, feeling so close to the edge and having Walter deny him...he begged to some god out there that Walter would finish it at least, it was so intense, he knew his clothes were stained with precum, Beckett seemed to enjoy reminding him he knew it was there by playfully tapping a finger over the tip of his cock where the damp patch was.

"Yes...I'll work for you....I have mmmphn wanted to since I ahh first saw you... Oh my god..."

Walter smiled, watching him, listening to him, oh how blue his eyes looked when his cheeks were this flushed, absolutely gorgeous.

"Oh Tristan there is no god, only me and my loving hands."

He returned, unbuckling Tristans belt and reaching in, blushing a little himself as he watched Tristans eyes nearly roll up, his head falling forward.

Tristan watched as Walter finished him off how desperately he wanted to hold onto him, press fingers into his back, he couldn't remember the last time he came this fucking hard or if he'd ever...he was speechless...breathless and fuck he'd made a mess of them both.

He was putty in Walters hands, feeling a claw lift his head again, moaning softly still, his body was tingling all over

"Welcome to the team Killian."

Beckett said sweetly before leaning in and kissing him.

[kamandzak]

Into the Great Night - Chapter 2

I started writing this book about a year ago and finished it ~7 months ago. Performing a big rewrite and this chapter is so dismally beautiful I can’t keep it to myself.

Context: Andrew Garland’s boyfriend of eight years has passed away and he is struggling

Recommended listening: Compass and Miracle by Two Steps from Hell

     It was foolish of me to think it would be any better at Tessa’s house. Merely leaving the place Greg and I had cohabitated didn’t mean our past would leave me; that my grief would leave me.

    It was no better sitting on Tessa’s couch as opposed to my own.

    It was still lonely. It was still joyless.

    It was still too cold.

      If that was my new normal…. If that was the life of which I would be forced to live for the rest of my days, I preferred to die.

      Tessa was worried. Beth was worried. Sara and Clara were worried. They all had the right to be. Mom and Dad still hadn’t reached out. I couldn’t say I was mad about it.

      For the first month I carried the same daily, depressive routine: Wake up, shower, watch videos, eat, shower again, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Nothing to disrupt the morose mentality I held from the moment my eyes opened until they closed. Even in my dreams I continued being sad. I couldn’t escape – trapped forever.

    Jake’s constant messages of concern did nothing but send me sinking deeper and deeper into hazy nothingness. Peppered with queries about when I planned to emerge onto the gaming scene, along with the occasional ludicrous statement about how he understood my stuffy brain, each message was deleted as it was read. There was no reason to have those hanging around, reminding me why I was in Reno and not where I had once dreamed of making a life for myself.

      Whenever I closed my eyes, Greg’s face appeared in the dark. Maybe I was napping; maybe I was finally sleeping fully through the night; maybe I was simply blinking. Always, he was there.

    Sometimes it was a fleeting glance of what used to be the best part of my life. Sometimes I dreamed of things that had already happened, or things I wanted to be that would never come to light.

    One night, I dreamed we got married. Waking up was almost as painful as watching him die.

      Tessa was worried I’d off myself. It wasn’t like we talked about it or anything, of course, but I could hear her and Beth sitting over tea every weekend, hushed mutterings coming from her dining room table or her room or her little porch. My grief had thrown a wrench into the lives of those around me, Beth worrying about my life when she normally would work on lesson plans for her rambunctious class of first graders. When she was feeling brave, Tessa would ask why I kept my secrets down deep for so long. That right there was why.

    I had suffered from depression before but what I was feeling wasn’t just unadulterated sadness; it was a fierce, far more complicated set of emotions leading me to exist in a far more dangerous mindset than I had ever been in before. Instead of having an urge to kill the part of me that is making me feel so unbelievably yet nondescriptly sad, I wanted death. Death, full stop.

    Mom and Dad and Sara and Clara and Beth and Tessa weren’t good enough reasons to stay alive, and all I wanted was to see Greg just for another minute. I wanted to give up a life with my own flesh and blood just to see him again. I would have given up all the time in the world for one more night of SNL and inside jokes with a man who made me feel like so much more than who I actually was; a unextraordinary nerd with awkward social tendencies and difficulty communicating. With Greg I felt like I was more than just me; without him, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

    “Andrew! Your phone!” A crumpled ball of paper bounced off my head as Tessa’s voice cut through my outer shell, the sounds of my phone following her words. My phone beeped loudly, the tell-tale sign of a Facetime call on it’s way, and I dragged my finger across the screen to accept before I read the name. Each bodily movement seemed to take ten times longer than Before. I was living seconds behind reality.

    “Garland.”

Jake’s face popped onto my screen. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1….

    “Hi.”

    “You look like hell.”

Jake’s mouth stopped moving before I even put together the string of letters that made up his blunt statement.

    “Mm,” I managed.

    “You in Reno?” I nodded. “I’m heading out that way this weekend. Never been to Vegas believe it or not. Figured I’d go explore. Have you seen anyone since everything happened?

    “Andrew, want anything from the gas station?” Tessa stood in her door frame and as I shook my head she left without another word.

    “I’ll take that as a no?”

    “Yeah, no. No, I haven’t seen anyone. I don’t want to see anyone.”

    “What if they came to you? So you didn’t have to leave where you are?”

    “I’m not about to let a stranger into my sister’s apartment.”

    “We’re not technically strangers at this point, right?”

    “Why are you so hell-bent on meeting face-to-face?”

Jake paused, inhaling loudly, wheezily, in a way that reminded me of Greg; then again, everything reminded me of Greg whether it had anything to do with him or not.

    “The best thing that came out of the worst time in my life is now I can be empathetic to other people going through the same thing.”

The tiniest part of me wanted to know what he’d been through but the larger part didn’t have the brain power to care because what actually mattered didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t think Jake was purposely jabbing at open, festering wounds for the sake of cruelty; he was just caring for me.

    I didn’t want his caring. I only wanted one person’s caring and couldn’t get past the knowledge that I'd never have it again.

    “Let me know if you want someone to talk to. I’m only in Nevada for a couple of days. I won’t mind stopping. Really.”

    “Mm.”

    “I gotta go. Message me.”

The screen went black. Please Rate the Quality of your Call, a prompt stated, with the outlines of five stars beneath. I did no such thing.

    I wasn’t about to message him, even if I had a reason to do so. I wasn’t going to be messaging anyone because all conversations led back to Greg. How was gaming going? Was I still in Los Angeles? Was I still going to be on YouTube? All questions would eventually wind up being about him and the more I talked, the more I would have to remember. The more I would have to remember, the more I would have to feel, the more I would hurt.

    It started happening when I arrived at Tessa’s; my need for answers led me to the internet and introduced me to the term dissociation; I would simply leave my body. Up to the ceiling I seemed to float as if filled with helium, watching what was taking place below. Tessa waking up and making breakfast before going to her gaming room; her video editor Reese chatting with her about her upload schedule; Beth coming and going; myself sitting in the same spot on the same couch day in and day out.

    I didn’t know why it was happening, the only reasonable explanation being that I so desperately didn’t want to exist but was too much of a damn coward to kill myself. In the end, dissociation seemed like the best option. Just remove myself painlessly from my surroundings. Was certainly better than the alternative. It was peaceful, exiting the current plane and living somewhere else if only for just a few minutes.

    Live. That was the key word. I was still technically alive, my heart still beating and my stomach still digesting and my eyes blinking and lungs expanding with each breath. The human being my brain commanded was still moving. My mind was developed enough to operate on autopilot, doing the dumb things it had to do to keep everything in stasis. I ‘lived’, for lack of a better word.

    When I did gather the courage to look up what I was feeling on the internet, nothing made sense. Nothing could be remotely tailored to fit my situation. I could relate to none of it. These people with their inspiring stories and memoirs written in loving memoriam, and benches dedicated to loved ones… their experiences seemed to minimize what kept me awake at night. How were they able to do that? How could those strangers make me and my emotions feel trivial without even knowing me and without me actively posting in detail what was happening in my head? As hard as I tried to imagine those brave widows and widowers and left-behinds feeling the way I did, their stories always wound up being of getting over that tremendous loss.

    I didn’t want to get over it. If I got over it I would lose Greg forever. I’d already lost him once.

    The grocery lists of things I could do to help myself mocked me as I read the advice of people who claimed to know how to recover from the un-recoverable. Write them a letter, authors would write in silly, curly-cue fonts before giving me a whole page to write the letter, as if I was going to sit down and put pen to paper and tell Greg about something I saw that reminded me of our first date. List all the good times, one said, with bullet points for me to fill out five moments, as if every moment we had together wasn’t the best of my life. Find someone to talk to, another whimsically suggested as it reminded me that keeping my feelings inside was dangerous. As if I didn’t already know it was ripping me apart from the inside.

    They didn’t tell me how to start a letter to Greg where all I could do was say how much I missed him. They didn’t tell me how to find someone to talk to when I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. They gave me five fucking spots to talk about good times as if our six-year relationship could be reduced down to that many moments and no more.

    They said all of it was doable; they said that when the lost their husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend or grandparent or dog or whatever, those were the steps they took to recovering and moving on.

    They weren’t me, though. They weren’t me and they weren’t Greg and they weren’t the set of circumstances under which we had lived. Even if half of the equation was there, the other wasn’t. Maybe their loved one was sick. Were they sick with the same ailment, or one that carried similar stigma? Did they purposely risk illness for the sake of their significant other or family member or friend? Did their risk become reality because fate can be an unnecessarily cruel mistress? Did they love the other person so much they shortened their own life?

    The door opened and couch shifted as Tessa’s hands landed on the sides of my face.

    “Andrew”

I cracked at her voice, her icy hands wrapping around my head and pushing me against her. Worming my arms under hers, I clung to her small shoulders, weeping into her jacket sleeves. Eyes screwed shut I gasped for air, seeing Greg in the darkness as he mirrored the same breathy sounds. While mine were of sadness, his were of death – the only sound of him I could manage to remember despite being together for so long. Tessa pulled at my non-resisting body and we sat together, tangled in a heap of coats and scarves and unwashed hair. Much like when we were young – when we didn’t understand what the world was about or why we were with the people we were with – and Tessa would protect me, we sat close, her love drowning out the pulsing drone of fear and hatred and sadness and anger rushing through my mind as it struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible.

    For several minutes, we sat in silence.

    “Andrew.”

    “Mm.”

    “I love you.”

    “I know.”     “And,” she finally pushed me off her body, holding me in front of her. Cold air hit my hot face, adhering the salty wash of tears to my skin, “And you can talk to me about anything you need to. I know you don’t want to. I know you think you’re strong enough. Maybe the only way to become strong is to not be.”

    “Where do I s-start?” I hiccupped.

    “Let’s get the team together,” she began, rising slowly and pulling me up with her. “Maybe they can help.”

    “But-.”

    “No one knows you like we do.”

      Hours later, beneath the door of Tessa’s bedroom, I heard her. I heard them.

    “You guys have to get here as soon as you can. Please.”

    “What’s the matter, Tess?”

    “I think it’s happening…. I think the numbness is wearing off. He’s starting to feel things again. It’s not that I don’t want to be here when it happens. I just don’t want to not have you guys here with us. I don’t know what do to.”

Greg’s death wasn’t supposed to be affecting my sisters as the sounds of their video call trickled through the under-crack of the door. It wasn’t supposed to be affecting Jake or anyone else but me and the Davis’.

    It was a stupid thought and their voices continued, muffled by my sense of inadequacy. Of course it would be affecting other people. It started doing so the moment Tessa posted my video. It started affecting the girls the second I told them I was having an emergency and they needed to come see me. What I hadn’t wanted was exactly what I had dug myself into when I welcomed other people into the hell-circle I was stuck in.

    I didn’t want them to come see me. I didn’t want Beth to take time off and Clara to leave Frank and Sara to leave Duncan to come take care of me. I was twenty-four. I should have been able to take care of me.

      The front door opened several hours later and I looked up with a faux look of surprise. Out, I sent them telepathically. Please go.

    “Why are you here?” Tessa rolled her eyes at my question.

    “Boy, don’t pretend like you weren’t listening on my Zoom call with them,” she cracked a smile before reading the room and immediately coming back to our reality. “You know why.”

    “We’re just afraid that there’s more to address than just your changing grief,” Beth began and bile began rising in my throat. It was only a matter of time really, before they put two and two together. I guess I had thought it would take a little longer. Her hand landed in the middle of my back, leading me to the same sofa where Tessa and I had broken down together.

    “Don’t worry about me,” I began confidently. “I’m just-.”

    But then I coughed. I coughed and coughed and the more I tried to regulate my breathing, the harder it was. Choking; gasping.

    Hands rubbed my back while others pushed me down and a another lowered a glass of water into my field of vision. Sip, choke, swallow, repeat until I could finally shakily inhale with difficulty.

    Looking down at me were four sets of beautiful, worried eyes with which I could barely stand to keep contact.

    Clara spoke,

    “Stage three.”     “What?”

    “That’s what you’re in, isn’t it? Frank just… just lost a patient and when I asked him, especially when Tessa told me about all of your shakes and fevers, he said he thinks it's stage three. I think I believe him.”

I was at a complete and utter loss. In my molasses-filled, sloths-paced brain, grief at the loss of Greg drifted beside my own secrets and the suffering of my sisters, bouncing off of one another like oil and water.

    “You don’t understand,” I finally said.

    “Don’t understand what, exactly,” Tessa asked pointedly, further questions and opinions trapped behind pursed lips. I could practically see them stabbing her mouth, begging to be released.

    “Everything!” I exploded. I hadn’t been truly angry yet; up until then anger had taken too much effort. What energy grief didn’t zap from my system the HIV stole for its own selfish purposes. “It’s all connected, isn’t it?” I asked, huffing out laughs like a mad scientist whose madness had taken over the scientist within. “I can’t tell the world about me and Greg because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight. Then I’m with Greg and he’s so afraid of never having love and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, so then we take a risk and guess what? Protection fails. The risk becomes reality and I get HIV but I can’t talk about the love or the disease because it’s been ingrained in me since I was a child that people who get sick with this illness get it as recompense for their actions. I don’t believe it when I look at Greg but when I stare at myself in the mirror all I can hear is Dad’s voice. I go to clinics occasionally but only outside of town and without people I even sort of know because I’m afraid subscribers who have never seen my fucking face will recognize me and assume I’m going there for a reason I don’t want anyone to know about and guess what? They’re right! I don’t want them to know about going to get HIV treatment because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight.”

    “Andrew-.”

    “We keep loving each other because hey, once I’m sick, we might as well, right?”

    “Andrew-.”

    “And then Greg dies. Greg fucking dies and I can’t tell anyone because I don’t have anyone and the only reason I don’t is because I spent the first seventeen years of my life having it ingrained in my mind that if I don't date, marry, and have a family with a beautiful woman, I’m damned to a life of eternal suffering.”

    “But we-.”

    “I can’t tell the gaming community because then Dad could find out. I can’t tell you guys or Mom because I feel bad that I kept it a secret for so long but I had to keep it a secret so I could stay safe and love the man I loved because I knew he didn’t have all the time in the world. So now I’m one serious infection away from dying because I didn’t do serious enough treatments to start with because I was so afraid of people finding out I’m not straight,” I nearly screamed, throat raw, standing up and spinning around to face my audience. “How the fuck am I supposed to deal with all of this?”

From all four sides, warm sweaters hit my torso as each sister came from a different angle and held on tightly, two of them shaking against me with emotion. Long nails raked through my hair, hands rubbed my back and arm and nape of neck; hair tickled my nose. Cold, dry lips pressed against my forehead.

    When I dared to observe who was directly in front of me, Sara had tears running down her slim cheeks.

    “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I whispered. “All it’s doing is making you sad.”

    “I would have been sad when you first told me, Andrew. Nothing keeps human emotion from happening. But you’ve kept it in for so long, and the longer it builds up the more explosive it is when you finally release the valve. If you told me six years ago that you were in love with a boy and were scared, I would have been so proud. I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do… however you wanted to live your life. If you told me whenever you found out about being sick that you were sick, I would have been devastated. I still am. It’s just… complicated now,” she petered off as the others nodded in agreement.

    “I’m not mad at you, in case you think that,” Clara spoke. “I don’t think any of us are. In a way it’s nice to finally know all your dirty laundry so we can be here as a family. I know you have your reasons for doing what you did. We all do. There’s a lot to sort out. A lot to do. A lot of catching up that has to take place.”

    “There’s no timeline for this stuff,” Beth began and before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth,

    “AIDS, Beth. A. I. D. S.”

    “Grief, Andrew. G. R. I. E. F.”

    “Awesome,” I mumbled. “How am I supposed to do this?”

    “Not alone. We need to get you a doctor here,” Tessa said with a sad expression that, for a brief moment, I wanted to smack off of her face. “I haven’t seen you go since we moved. You don’t want to, but we don’t want to lose you.” I wanted to lose me but that was beside the point so I kept the words inside. “I can’t lose you,” she managed and faint sounds of stifled sadness cut through the quiet.

    “I know you want to go,” Beth said as Clara and Sara ushered Tessa away from the scene. “Not to the doctor, but to him. You want to go to Greg. Right now what we say won’t change that. Nothing we say will change how you feel. Nothing feels worth living for right now and I know that. When you go through something like this, you can tell other people you really do know what they’re going through. We aren’t worth living for right now and I understand that. There isn’t much we can do, but what we can do is make sure you’re eating and at least taking some medication. There isn’t much more to do right now than sustain yourself. Let us help.”

    “Okay.”     “You loved him. I understand that,” Beth whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “And you both did what you could with the time you had. Life’s unfair. I don’t know why things happen to people the way they do. I’m sorry.”

    “Why wasn’t my best good enough?”

    “Oh, Andrew. It was. I promise. There are just some things we can’t control. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

[donnerpartyofone]

hello, friends. today is an extremely stressful day for probably most people who follow this blog. personally, i'm staying a little disconnected, partially because i know it's going to be forever before a conclusion is reached, but also because it's so hard for me to be hopeful. wishing for a different president than the one we have is one thing, but there is also a wish to be able to stop feeling the way many of us have been forced to feel every day for the last four years; the relief of being allowed to stop listening to and thinking about that one individual would be immeasurable. i'm a little afraid to love this thought, and find myself heartbroken. note that i'm not looking forward to Hope and Change, just this one crucial psychic difference. I'm not going to debate whether donald trump and joe biden are fundamentally the same, in that democrats have just as much generalized blood on their hands as republicans. the problem with trump is in what he does to people emotionally. if he were to drop dead this instant, like i pray to god for every single day, mike pence would never inspire and galvanize the same mouthbreathing knuckledragging fuckfaces in the same violent way. having joe biden in the seat of ultimate power would not inflame the same kinds of general public feelings that it is openly permissible to shoot up a synagogue or beat black people to death in the streets, that "many fine people" are capable of these things. even accepting the allegations of rape against biden, i do not believe there are roid-raging frat boys out there who will look up to him and feel encouraged by his success to ramp up their crimes against women. the inflammatory psychic signals that come from trump specifically create their own problems in this country, separate of the legislative corruption and stagnation that we still suffer under the democratic party. politely stifled, appropriately embarrassed bigotry is radically different in character and effect than bigotry that is stroked and fluffed and trotted out on tv by a cartoon father figure who literally makes the rules for everybody. trump, specifically, has to go.

so what do i do with myself, with the conflict between my cynicism about america's ability to progress and my inexpressible rage against what must change? well, sometimes, i toy with elaborate id release fantasies about how i think trump should die. i mean, that would really be the optimal event here, but it would be important that he die in a really humiliating way that makes it hard for his constituents to keep identifying themselves with the idea of him.

i mean, none of this should ever happen in real life, because that would be cruel and hateful of course, and we're not supposed to wish unhappiness on others. but some of these ideas give my nervous brain just the massage it needs to get me through my day.

you know, i mean, i can imagine it would be good if he were like, jacking off to gay tickle porn and had an aneurysm and shat all over himself and it glued all his tickle feathers all over him and the violent paroxysm contorted him into such an idiotic shape that they couldn't remove the frilly bonnet and giant baby rattle from his rigor mortised body before hauling him through the streets in front of everybody to the city dump.

in my imagination, it would be really cool if he were coming down an escalator with a banana in one hand and a corn cob in the other and he choked while slurping on both of them and toppled over and fell right on top of his head which cracked like an egg and his pants split and revealed his many pink and purple layers of spanking welts to the entire press corps.

in my imagination, it would be terrific if it were discovered that he got a dominatrix clown wearing a patchwork pantsuit and blonde bob wig to peg him as hard as possible with a strap-on shaped like a toy gun that shot out a big BANG! flag at the peak of the action, ripping through his colon and out of his dickhole with such force that it caused his entire lower portion to explode like a blood blister, leaving only the flag flapping in the wind before the live audience of a facebook feed that the clown was secretly running the whole time.

sometimes my imagination skips the accidental circumstances and just pictures him as the subject of a mass public execution; i mean like, he's found guilty of assholism by the royal court of the entire galaxy, and he has to get in the middle of a desolate field, and every single person who wants to gets to come and burn him with cigarettes and rip little chunks off of him with nail clippers and stab him with the spines from those anti-rape condoms that burrow in further when you try to remove them, until he falls on the ground and we can all stomp all over him until he looks like a bunch of yogurt, but he's still alive and waving his little baby fists in the air and weeping in a really stupid little way that makes it impossible to feel sorry for him, so he can appreciate it when we get a long chain of elderly lesbians to come stand over his face and piss all over his open wounds, and then nature gets in on the act because carnivorous fire ants are attracted to the smell of his blood and they crawl through his tattered clothing to his hilarious little genitals and inject waves of chemical pain into his crotch to radiate throughout his entire body while gorgeous models stand around pointing and guffawing at the size and shape of his mutilated joke of a member, and then jackals and vultures come, unable to wait until he's dead, and start rippping him apart like monkey bread, and parasitic wasps nest in the festering remains, and he is still conscious, and by some divine magic he remains conscious until every single cell has been separated from the others and ground into the barren earth beneath him, which we finally spread with gasoline and set on fire. that would be really ideal.

sometimes it makes me feel better to just imagine him in the most irretrievably degraded state possible, in which every single shred of his being is individually punished to the fullest extent possible for his appalling and totally irredeemable existence that has been destructive to practically the whole entire world including people who like him. i think maybe the one thing that the right has over the left is their acceptance of the power of hate. in the extremely disturbing and eye-opening documentary FEELS GOOD MAN, about the internet's conversion of innocent cartoon character pepe the frog into a fascist icon, modern druid john michael greer makes a fascinating observation about how the pepe episode is a demonstration of sigil magic, in which a symbol facilitates the intense concentration of passionate hatred, so that it can be weaponized in a focused laser-like fashion against the object of this hatred, and used to scaffold the success of the object's adversary--namely trump. many people have theorized that the remarkable focus of feeling that was achieved within the chan boards during 2016 was, in one way or another, directly responsible for the outcome of the election. i guess i wish that the left were capable of this same kind of mass ritual, to stop the in-fighting and the moral purity tests, and pool our collective hatred in the same satisfying way that we've seen the right do--just to share the dream of it. i mean, why not? it's just emotional catharsis. it's just the power of the imagination. it can't hurt anybody. it's not like our congealed desires could spin themselves into a massive psychic megaton rocket aimed directly at the entire fate of the worst person on the planet. so let fly, indulge yourself a little. add your notes to this post, whydontcha. things can't get any worse!

[rockofeye]

Calling Out and Calling In: Jessyka Winston and Haus of Hoodoo

It’s not uncommon for me to receive asks or messages asking me to verify that a particular priest or a particular sosyete is valid/authentic/traditional/etc. By and large, I don’t answer these because it’s not appropriate in that there is no reason for me to comment on a particular person or sosyete. That’s not how you make friends, maintain a religious community, or serve the spirits.

And, there is the truth that, in Haiti and on the island in general, there is variety in practice. I talk a lot about regleman, which is the appropriate order for things, and I talk a lot about what happens when folks just want to grab what they thinks looks cool or spooky for their own purposes (no, Papa Legba is not a cocaine-sniffing demon, no, Ezili Freda does not want to be saluted with twerking). Discernment is a thing, and well-trained priests have it; folks can sniff out fraud versus ‘huh, we don’t do it like that but it makes a lot of sense that other people do it this way’.

This doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of fraud and fraudulent folks who use the trappings of the religion to make a lot of cash. It happens a lot. A LOT. It happens in Haiti and it happens outside of Haiti. The birth of social media has given folks, legitimate and not, a place to showcase what they do and connect with people whom are seeking the spirits or, conversely, whom the spirits are seeking. It was that for me; I reconnected with an old friend on Facebook after at least 5 years of no contact and, through a series of Very Fortunate Events, found my way to my spiritual mother’s door from there.

Social media has given a platform for fraudulent people to really dig their heels in. Instagram (the platform I love to hate) is particularly awful with this. Folks who have not had exposure or training in the religion see beautiful photos and assume that what they are seeing is true and authentic because it looks like it must be, or someone is a very talented writer and uses generic photos along with compelling, persuasive text. This is not the fault of the folks looking—how can they know?--but the fault squarely of the people trying to trade the sacred for power, adoration, and, often most importantly, cold hard cash.

This reality often brings up a very difficult conversation to have that contains a lot of hard truths: the face of fraud in Haitian Vodou is not always white and birthright (or the presumption of birthright) can be abused.

These two things bring us to the topic at hand: Haus of Hoodoo and the person behind it, Jessyka Winston.

Haus of Hoodoo is a small business that began online selling fixed candles and posting lovely photos. Within the last 6 months or so, a retail location opened in New Orleans. It’s a cute shop (I like all the plants), and she portrays it as doing well.

Where things have gone from cringe-y to whose-child-is-this to ‘you have got to be fucking kidding me’ complete with the sort of strangled laugh that doesn’t come from something funny is around Haitian Vodou.

Let me be really clear: I have been watching this for a good long while, and I didn’t want to say anything for the reasons outlined above and because, quite bluntly, I know this is going to bring a whole lot of unpleasantness to my doorstep. Jessyka likes to flex, and how she flexes is making statements that she feels are intimidating/fear-inspiring, going in on character assassination, and, frankly, talking a whole lot of shit. She threatens sending spirits after someone, with the stated intent that a person will die or be made food, and she spins into this cyclone of nonsense that she thinks leaves her looking authentic and traditional. It doesn’t, and I don’t attach weight to those sorts of things or get scared of them. But, I have known that’s what is in store as soon as this is published and I had to kind of have a talk with myself to make sure I have really been willing to take that on. At this point, I am willing because what has been said is so incredibly untrue and, in some cases, downright harmful or unethical. There are times to be quiet, and there are times to speak. This one of those times to speak.

After the cut, I’m going to lay things out the best I can with the receipts I’ve got and the knowledge I have been blessed to gain. It’s going to be image-heavy and with a lot of text, and there’s a LOT of it.

But, before we get there, it’s important to acknowledge some things upfront:

Haus of Hoodoo/Jessyka Winston is alone in what she is saying. She is not gaining support from anyone and no one is standing up to agree with her. She has been a topic in the Haitian Vodou community for at least a year, and no one has said much of anything to her because, sadly, no one seems to be invested in her.  I really do think this is sad. Haitian Vodou is familial in nature, even across sosyetes and lineages. Folks disagree with each other and argue, but they still come back and call each other sister and brother. She has said she is a part of no community and eschews what community means, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to not have anyone who will either support you because what you are saying is true for your corner, or anyone who cares enough to say ‘hey, I know you mean well but you’re really off-base here. Maybe you should walk it back’. I think this is why she has turned so poisonous. I know I have benefited greatly from a spiritual parent and siblings who have helped me right my course and/or given me a kick in the butt. Not having that is a huge loss and a huge spiritual hole.

I also do not think Jessyka is without redemption. She can change what she is doing and change the current course she has set for herself. While the things she has said will never go away, she can take responsibility for the inaccuracies she is spreading, the outright disrespect she is showing to Haitians and the people who made it possible for her to even have contact with the religion, and the harm she is inflicting. With the lwa, there is always a chance to do things differently. The function of community, in this moment, is to call out the hurt and harm she is spreading, and to call her in so that she may come back to center and work on repairing not only what she has perpetuated but work repairing herself as well.

(Quick note, some of the image formatting is weird and some images are darker than others. If you are having trouble reading something, let me know. I regret that I cannot caption each one. Additionally, I have removed the actual photos from the images for time and bandwidth)

With those things in mind, let’s take a look at what has been going on:

To timeline things for context, Jessyka initiated in Afa vodoun and Mami Wata practices in Ghana in early 2017. After her return to the US, she began talking about Haitian Vodou and began attending ceremony in New Orleans with a New Orleans spiritual community and a Haitian Vodou sosyete with their US temple in NO. At some point in here, she did a lave tet under the lineage head of the sosyete, and then followed that with kanzo in Haiti, where she was made a manbo asogwe. This is really fast and potentially really ill-advised. When you initiate somewhere, your head needs time to settle down and you need to get to know your spirits. When you spin through it and don’t give your head a chance to settle, things get messy—you are unbalanced, your head is unbalanced, and your spirits are unbalanced. A wise person once told me it takes 5 years to be proficient enough in something to have a basic understanding, and this rings true spiritually.  

This is where things get sticky. Not too long after her kanzo (about 2-3 months, maybe a little more), she left the house she was made in, stating that she was taken advantage of. At this point, she had left her long-term partner, gotten involved with a Haitian man, and returned to Haiti to have other ceremonies done, somewhere near the end of 2018. I have receipts for these things but, for brevity and bandwidth, I’m not going to insert them all. If you want to see them, hit me up.

This is sticky for two reasons:

She wiped her Instagram of all visual cues attaching her to this house. She had written a LOT about them and a lot about the relationship she had with her initiatory mother, but she chose to try and re-write her history after she left. This is not how kanzo works and, in reality, not how the internet works. I saw a lot of what she had written myself.

Allegations of fraud in the way that she insists happened are hard to address because they often involve matters of secrecy that only another priest can recognize. I can’t say for absolute certainty what happened in the djevo/initiatory chamber she went into, as I wasn’t there. That’s not shade, it really just means what it says: I can’t pass judgment because I didn’t go inside that djevo. I would expect that sosyete to say the same of me in that they were not in the djevo that I went into and cannot judge the absolute correctness of what happened there. Priests are pretty solid on not extending opinions of things that have not verified with their own eyes.

What I can say is that Jessyka has posted things that are very true about kanzo (initiation in an asson lineage), and many, many things that are false. The largest problem with this outside of potentially betraying oaths of secrecy that I know she took is that she doesn’t seem to know the difference between what is true and what is manufactured, either by misinformation she has received or by her own lack of experience, as she has never stood inside a djevo on the other side of kanzo. She never went back to see how it was done, and she didn’t stay long enough to be taught.

I saw her post something once that she should know better than to post, and I addressed it as my one-and-done (or what I thought was one-and-done) shot at saying something, priest to priest, in the hopes that they would right their wrongs:

@anbadlo is my Instagram account that I use to post spiritual work and art, however infrequently, and I’ve mentioned it here before. It has the name I am commonly known by on the internet, which is pretty easy to link up to this blog and to my other online presences attached to Vodou. I wrote fairly quickly in my response below hers because I knew I was on borrowed time, as she blocks anyone who disagrees with her or that she perceives to harm her business (which is her prerogative, of course).

What I didn’t get a chance to screenshot before she blocked me was her further response saying that she would humiliate me with what I didn’t know about Haitian Vodou and that I should try going to Haiti before saying anything to her or anybody else. This was sort of eyebrow raising not because it upset me but because a) there is nothing humiliating or shameful about not knowing something and I am pretty open that I am always learning, and b) she spoke without giving a thought to who might be speaking to her. If someone was to pull me up online for posting something inappropriate or inaccurate, I’d at least click on their name to see who they were before asserting that I was an authority who could humiliate them. I also did not and do not understand why someone who claims to be a spiritual leader or authority would want to humiliate someone. Folks can be corrected without character assassination or purposeful embarrassment.

Far more interesting than those things, though, is that she denies she was made asogwe which is untrue based on her own words:

She’s since deleted this post, but it was a post that quite a few priests saw and saved. To be honest, I sort of chuckled about this because what is written here is not true about being a houngan or manbo asogwe but it digs at something more serious: her attitude and orientation of being more authentic-than-thou and being what she perceives as the most traditional of the traditionalists. Like, I come from a traditional Haitian lineage that is known for doing things traditionally, and all of this is above and beyond. I talk frequently about how Haitian Vodou is a practical religion, and it’s not practical to go bother the lwa if you want to have sex, shave your legs, or stay out late. There are situations where some of the things she has said might be true for a very short period of time, but no one does this nor is it traditional. Haitians are not going to their tables every time they want to get their hair done.

It is possible that she had some deep misunderstandings about what she was taught, it is possible she made it all up, or, perhaps most likely, it is possible that she offered all these things up to her lwa and they took them. Spirits can be opportunists and they love attention. If you commit to giving them a chicken every week, they will expect a chicken from you every week and are going to be displeased when you don’t deliver. If you offer things up, they are going to hold that as their standard. This is why discernment is important, as is maintaining ongoing relationships with a teacher and (IMPORTANT) asking before you make an offer when you are new to a religion and a religious office (priest).

It is also equally important to note that when you kanzo and come out a houngan or manbo asogwe, that’s an indelible mark that cannot be erased. You can point middle fingers at people and walk away, but that doesn’t change what was put on you. Other work and other ceremonies can be done (however ill-advised), but it can never erase what you willingly consented to and had placed on your head. Her desire to separate herself from this and her asson lineage of kanzo doesn’t mean it is erased, no matter how much you want to re-invent yourself.

But, this was kind of a fore-runner and warning sign of what was to come in terms of more-authentic-than-thou and, bluntly, honesty. In retrospect, if someone had sort of nudged her and said ‘hey, you don’t have to be doing the most of the most to be a good manbo’ maybe we wouldn’t be where we are. On the other hand, people have to take their own roads and it is not the place of any priest to really step in when there is no harm done to others. Like, if you want to tie yourself up that tightly, it is certainly within your rights to do so.

More recently, what she has posted has taken a turn for the truly bizarre. Her Instagram is a sort of echo chamber—some vodouizan read and largely do not interact, and a whole lot of people follow her who don’t have other exposure to the religion but, as before, she is standing alone. She says things and presents images that fit a narrative she creates, and it hits a nerve with folks seeking spiritual meaning or it fits an internal narrative they have, even if it is not a narrative reflected currently or historically. This is not a slam to folks who follow her or who have followed her and thought she was reflecting the Real Vodou she says she is, as we are all human and all searching for where our heart and heads feel at home, and sometimes that search has a pit stop or side quest.

She really got going with what amounts to flexing: she presents herself as powerful and untouchable, and makes statements that people she perceives as standing against her or attacking her will be harmed or killed:

At first glance, these things are laughable, literally. It is perhaps not my proudest, most enlightened moment as a person or an houngan, but I saw this litany of fear and I just chuckled because...c’mon. COME ON. This tells a really transparent story: someone got to her or she presumes someone got to her, and she’s Bothered. So, she posts these things about how spirits are going to eat people, she’s going burn things down, people are going to suffer, etc etc etc. This is a traditional internet spiritual song; I Have Been Wronged, Let Me Put On My Robe And Wizard Hat.

In Haitian Vodou, when these moments play out publicly, it is a moment when face is lost. Haitian culture and, as follows, the religion very much has an element of ‘don’t let them see you sweat’. Like, broadcasting that work was thrown at you means they win because acknowledgment is the loss. Haitians can be super stoic when things go sideways, and they don’t tell anyone that will listen (or the internet) that they are suffering. People want reactions, so you don’t give it to them. In some ways, this is where the chuckle comes from. In Haiti, it’s the aunties cackling.

Instead, you do your work. Do. Your. Work. You go to your spirits, you do your thing, and you get on with it because when you have the juice/power to do your work and take care of your business, you don’t have to tell people that you have it. The priests and workers who are the most intimidating and who can back it up are the ones who say nothing about what they can do—they just do it and wait for the conclusion.

And, like, after a chuckle, I have compassion for those moments of outburst because I’ve been there. When you feel you’ve been hit by work or are faced by things that feel like they threaten your livelihood, it can be hard to know what to do with that as new/young priest. These are things we unpack with our initiatory parent and our siblings who have been in the same spot. This is what the family and communal function of Vodou is for.

All chuckles aside, there are things to unpack here.

Intimidation is really about control. Statements (and actions, like she is talking about here) are made not to communicate a truth, really, but to bring about a desired outcome. Like, not having people publicly question the veracity of a statement or to create an environment where, if a person steps out of the perceived line, they are the target of the same vitriolic statements and actions.

There is also the perceive importance of the statements; that the spirits supposedly showed up in a dream and named names, that people will die, bloody imagery, that she has no control over things now. For vodouizan, this is kind of front-street pedestrian stuff. Dreams happen, sometimes they are violent, we keep it moving.

But, this takes what is meant for one person and tries to use it as a bludgeon to illustrate what Jessyka wants to be taken as fact: that she is something powerful to be feared. Beyond that fear is situational only, fear does not translate to respect. When you try to assert power by fear and intimidation, you only hold people by how violent you can appear. In Vodou, that might work for a minute, but it eventually backfires.

And, this sort of atmosphere is only maintained as for as long as those who are watching are not aware that this is fear, not necessarily substance. The folks who are wowed by threats of spiritual violence are the folks who have not yet seen Haitian Vodou is practice. The illusion falls when the cracks show and when seekers see anything else. In some ways, what has been presented is another version of the emperor has no clothes.

These kind of things—the threats, the descriptions of violence—play into a Western-dominated narrative of Haitian Vodou as uncivilized and dangerous. I showed some of these posts to my roommate, who is very much not a practitioner of anything spiritual, and their remark was ‘...and this is why people are scared of Vodou’. They are right. When we start playing up this idea of warring, bloody violence as what Vodou—and Jessyka claims she has ‘real Vodou’--we perpetuate the idea that Vodou is something to be feared, that Haitians are people are somehow inherently violent, and that Haiti is an uncivilized, backwards country. This is the dogwhistle of white supremacy, and has been since the first “zombie” movie was released in 1932.

And yet, there are more serious consequences to sort of gleefully portraying Vodou as something that always punishes and never embraces. For decades, Protestant missionaries have hammered on Haiti as a godless, devil-wracked nation, and used isolated images of animal sacrifice as a bludgeon to withhold aid or set requirements of conversion or church attendance on receiving aid. Those isolated images combined with a Western narrative that amounts to ‘yeah, I’m going to send my spirits at you’ gives that sector more ammunition than they could ever need. It may not hurt Jessyka or me directly, but it hurts Haitians living in Haiti who suffer the consequences.

The thread that gets tugged when even the slightest criticism of this comes up is that what Jessyka has is “real vodou”. She’s said it a few times, in a few different ways:

These are curious statements in a couple ways. From the top, anyone who tells you they have the absolute truth and are here to wake you up or that they have the real deal (versus the “fast food”) is looking for some kind of buy-in, whether it is someone falling into the same thought patterns or a financial buy-in. These are loops to get folks who may not have had access to information before on the hook. Everyone wants the truth, right?

This is manipulative and an attempt to control—if you’re getting the truth here, why are you listening to these con artists who are only out for your money? I’m giving you the TRUTH. The Bonewits Evaluation Frame for cults and new religious movements is useful here. It’s aimed at neo-pagans, but the criteria is universal.

It also perpetuates that everything in Haitian Vodou is secretive and mysterious. It’s really not. It’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine because it perpetuates this otherness that doesn’t need to be there. The religion has moments of secrecy and seclusion, but it’s really not as much as people would like others to believe. Here, the idea that she has the truth is communicated with videos of things that she seems to think no one will have information about or have seen before, or with commentary that creates this aura of exceptionalism. It’s simply not true.

This is a video of a chèche fèy ceremony; where leaves are gathered for initiation ceremonies or other large spiritual work. Often Gran Bwa comes down and selects the leaves himself, for some folks Simbi might come down and do this work. In the video, you can see several of the folks bearing leaves on their heads are possessed or close to possessed, and they are wearing the country-style outfits that are worn for particular types of work.

This is a pile fèy ceremony, where, as she says, leaves are being crushed for spiritual work, under the gaze of Gran Bwa. In many asson lineages, the act of crushing the leaves is part of a larger ceremony ahead of initiation, stretching for three nights to make sure all the work is finished for the new would-be initiates.

This is a video of a spiritual feeding for Danti, or Danti Bitasyon, Danti Demanbwe, and other names, who is sort of the conglomeration of ancestral spirits issuing forth from a particular plot of land. Generally, Danti possesses people who are blood relatives of the lineage celebrating the feeding. The caption is interesting because it’s an interesting read on what is happening as this is OUR spirit blessing us. Like, it is certainly possible but it’s curious. When you go to ceremonies regularly, you see spirits behave like this a lot (leaning on folks or falling into them while dancing and then dancing around the room/space) and, truly and honestly, what it boils down to is that the spirit is not yet seated fully and is sort of getting adjusted to it’s meat suit or you are simply in the way. Here, Danti is waiting for the sacrifice, which is happening or being prepared just out of view on the right in the corner, and is dancing while they wait.

The idea that it is a spirit that belongs to Jessyka and her husband is...interesting. When people talk about their spirits coming to get something or coming down, it often refers to the spirit mounting their head, ie ‘my Ogou came down at the fete last night and took his bull’. I certainly have face recognition with spirits who take the heads of others, but my spirits come in my head.

It’s also worth checking in on what Jessyka is referring to as the truth.

In Haiti, there are two main lineages of what folks call sèvis Ginen or sèvis lwa; also known as Haitian Vodou. One utilizes the asson/ason and is often called the asson lineage or some variant, and one utilizes the tcha-tcha, and is often called the tcha-tcha lineage or Deka Vodou. Additionally, there are numerable family practices specific to nuclear families that are passed to family members only.

After that, there are things that folks often refer to as secret societies, which is a weird term..they aren’t secret on the island at all. They have many names—Bizango, Chanpwel/Sanpwel, Makandal, Makaya, Zobop, etc—and a good way to describe them is Ginen-adjacent or Vodou-adjacent practices. They operate differently than most/many ason lineages or tcha-tcha lineages, and subscribe to different methods/means of building relationships with spirits and different ways of bringing people together. There are often specific color combinations and symbols (black/red, red/green, sometimes red/yellow, black/blue, coffins, etc) and an understood hierarchy explained with government-related terms like emperor, prezidan/president, renn(queen)/rwa(king). There’s often talk about being given a throne (Googling Bizango throne will show beautiful examples) and being in command and similar. A lot of people have a lot of feelings about these things, but it’s really just another way to do things. Lots of folks who have the asson also will have Vodou-adjacent practices as well; it’s pretty common and fits well together, not unlike folks who have Lucumi and Palo, or Candomble and Umbanda.

Why go into all this here? Jessyka codes and displays things a particular way that describes a Sanpwel-influenced practice, whether she knows it or not. Sanpwel is often very rooted in more rural areas and might combine with a family practice or exist alongside one. The temple complex in her videos is painted red and black, some of the dwapo displayed are styled like many dwapo in Vodou-adjacent practices are, and a lot of her language around being part of a manbo-houngan pair or the ‘chiefs’ who over see a ‘bitasion’ (bitasyon in Kreyòl Ayisyen) reflects this. None of this is a bad thing, but the idea that it is the true Vodou or the real Vodou on the island stems from folks like E.A. Koetting (of Become A Living God infamy) who got wow-ed by skulls with mirror eyes and manufactured the idea of more-authentic-than-thou. There’s no need to go all cloak and dagger about what you do, unless the cloak and dagger serves your agenda.

This sort of coding shows up when she talks about her ‘bitasion’/bitasyon. She has posted extensively about what a ‘bitasion’ is in the last few weeks, and she seems to have some confusion about it and is mixing it with other concepts from Haitian Vodou. A bitasyon is literally the physical seat of your home; your lakou/yard where you were born or where your parents had their home or where your family has lived over time. There are certainly spirits tied to place there—a family may have a Simbi who really likes one particular basin, or Freda may show a great preference for a particular tree—but how she is talking about it is curious:

There’s a lot here that is weird, but there’s a few things to pull out specifically. She describes her ‘bitasion’ as the land she and her husband have inherited, the specific land from where her lwa spring, and the land that her family has lived and died on for generations.

So...if she says that she and her husband have this ‘bitasion’ together, she is communicating that her family and her husband’s family are related and/or the same. This would be a huge oddity in Haiti. Even relationships between initiatory siblings can be frowned upon, nevermind actual blood relations. Further, she is saying that her family has lived on this plot of land for decades, so they’d be REALLLY related. Like, brother-sister related. I can’t imagine that, if true, this would be something she would talk so much about on the internet. I assume she has misspoken or misunderstood.

It could be that she thinks you inherit a ‘bitasion’ when you marry a Haitian, as she had, but she has an odd idea about it. Like, if that’s where she is thinking on it, she’s close. When you marry a Haitian, you become acquainted with their bitasyon. Like, your spouse brings you around and you greet the land and the spirits there and are welcomed as their spouse, but you are not greeted as a blood family member would be. Marriage doesn’t change things like that. Like, folks joke rather crudely that I am Haitian-by-injection (since I am married to a Haitian man) and I am acquainted and welcomed by his family, living and dead, and can go visit his various bitasyon as his spouse. If he was in some sort of trouble, I could go to one of his bitasyon on his behalf and ask for their help...but none of that makes those my bitasyon.

She uses this idea of ‘bitasion’ to batter people, saying over and over that you must have a ‘bitasion’ in Haiti to be able to initiate into her idea of true Vodou:

She repeats this all over the place over and over. She hammers on it.

There’s a lot to unpack here. A LOT.

She out and out says that Haitians born in the Diaspora are not real Haitians and cannot be called a priest in the tradition. Not only is this deeply inaccurate, it’s jaw-droppingly disrespectful and displays a lack of understanding of Haitian Vodou. A Haitian child born in the Diaspora (outside of the country) has a bitasyon. Several, in fact, and more if they have two Haitian parents. If I have a child with my Haitian husband, they will have several bitasyon in Haiti.

The same goes for Haitians who were adopted out of the country, who were orphaned, and/or Haitians who don’t know where their bitasyon are. These realities are deep wounds in Haiti and for many Haitians, and who goes around deciding, essentially, who is and is not Haitian? Like, this isn’t even addressing the spiritual fucked-upness of those statements, but purely from a human standpoint. No one gets to decide who can access their Haitian lineage or call on their birthright. It’s not just insensitive, it’s rude.

This pulls up what actually made me upset when I read a lot of these posts: the temerity of a non-Haitian to make pronouncements about Haitians and dictate what Haitians can do. Like, a legit priest is a legit priest and has the authority to speak on the religion, but the caveat—PARTICULARLY for non-Haitian priests—is that you speak with grace and a bit of elegance, especially around issues of identity when it comes to the identity of the people who allowed you into the religion.

There was a particular example that tapped into some anger and was the straw on the houngan’s back that made me decide to write this entire post. Unsurprisingly, it comes from a post about ‘bitasion’:

I missed it on my first read because there’s just so much to read, but when I saw it I had to put my phone down for a bit and go do something else. Out of all the stuff that’s here so far (and all the stuff to come), this is truly what made this post a reality.

How do you show up and do this in a country where the average weekly income WAS (because ain’t nobody really working right now when it is essentially civil war) less than $4USD a week for Haitians living in urban areas? Are you really going to put poor rural folks through the indignity of having to ask to cut some firewood? This is a brand new version of an outsider trying to show they are a gwo blan via power and control. These days, people in Haiti are used to it because it comes via missionaries and NGOs and the voluntourism of folks who show up to take pictures with orphans and hand out candy.

There used to be a different word for an outsider who punished folks working the land to survive: overseer. 

This is the re-institution of colonial systems, and it’s pretty ugly, particularly coming from someone who is not Haitian. You can certainly be the sort of priest who wants to punish rural folks for cutting some firewood and then brag about it, but should you be? Really?

But, the biggest issue about her saying that you must have a ‘bitasion’ in Haiti is that she seems confused about where her ‘bitasion’ actually is. First she was born in Cuba:

Then she was born in the DR with lots of family memories and history from there:

To be completely blunt, I have a hard time swallowing someone else’s requirements about a Haitian bitasyon when they do not have a consistent story about their own bitasyon.

Next to the thread of what Jessyka believes is true vodou is this thread of confusion. It’s visible when she talks about her ‘bitasion’, her background, and it leaks out in a lot of other places:

There’s so much here that it is basically word salad:

There is no religion in Haiti (or on the island) called Asogwe. Asogwe is a rank of initiation in the asson lineage

Any temple that only has one manbo or one houngan is not a thriving temple. The idea that a temple will only make one houngan and one manbo per generation is hilariously uninformed. Go into any temple in any part of Haiti, and you will find a wealth of houngans and manbos spanning generations because the ceremony doesn’t go without many hands made to do the work.

Yes, initiation costs money. I paid $8,500 plus airfare for mine, and, after going through it and going back to work the ceremonies each year since, I think my mother should charge more. I know exactly what was purchased with my money (I got an itemized list), and I know that my kanzo was done ethically and as equitably as possible—each person who worked on my behalf (at least two dozen houngans/manbos, innumerable singers, drummers, people who cooked, people who slaughtered animals, people who did laundry, people who drove, and on and on) was fed and was paid for their labor. No one should be asked to work for free, and no one should want a low-cost kanzo because no one should be wondering if corners were cut in the making of their head.

If she thought her kanzo was empty and meaningless, perhaps it was because she left before she could learn.

 It is true that I and other non-Haitians do not come from a bitasyon in Haiti, but I descend from my spiritual mother’s demanbwe (essentially a field of ancestors not tied to place), which is a key facet of why the asson lineage exists and why it has spread...there must be ancestral approval before extending the asson for ‘adoption’.

It is perversely amusing that someone who left an asson lineage less than six months after they completed their kanzo elects themselves as an expert who can dismiss literally hundreds of years of lineage and ancestral work and Haitians, all to sell some candles.

She has a core misunderstanding on what a “zombie” (zonbi in Kreyòl Ayisyen) is. A zonbi, at very base, is a soul held in servitude and controlled by the person who created it or by the lwa who owns it. They don’t mount people and they aren’t given in kanzo as she thinks. White folks and non-Haitians get mounted and it’s not uncommon. There’s even video out there, embarrassing as it may be, of me beginning to get mounted with a spirit. She’s uninformed and is speaking on things she has no experience in.

People should read these posts very closely. Remember when I said way up there that I like to watch people because they will show you who they are? This is Jessyka Winston showings us who she is.

She is out of ceremony less than a year. She walked from previous commitments after two months. Now, she is telling you how she will initiate you. She says over and over that an asson lineage initiation is a scam, but this is a blueprint to take money and do nothing.

She will initiate you only as a hounsi, but you’ll be the manbo of your ‘bitasion’ IF your ‘bitasion’--the land and the spirits passed to you by your family—tell HER you are valid.

If they tell her yes, she’ll give you a manbo/houngan initiation so you can go be a manbo/houngan of your own plot of land….but you are not a manbo/houngan in their temple because There Can Only Be One

You can’t fake it, because they will know.

There are no lwa involved in any initiation.

They’ll know if you’re lying, but it will also come out in divination.

You can only serve your spirits of your ‘bitasion’, but the spirits of theirs will recognize you as a hounsi

Ancestors cannot be sold or bought.

They are going to do things differently

So, to serve your ancestors as a priest, you must pay for two initiations, and it’s going to be pricey because, as she says, her work is VERY expensive:

She is willing to charge $157 for a non-specific half hour spiritual consultation, and will require a $28 fixed candle and a $12 headscarf be purchased for that as well, so it’s not going to be an initiation that tries to keep costs low.

That first initiation is to hounsi, which makes you a servant of the house. You’ll be expected to show up and help with things, and probably financially contribute.

If you have the desire to be a manbo or an houngan, she is the one who is going to speak for your ‘bitasion’, which is a plot of land but also ancestors, and tell you whether or not you have a future as a houngan or a manbo. If you do, it’s another initiation which you will pay for and probably pay quite a bit more because you’ll be a priest. When you start propitiating a bitasyon, that requires big ceremony to feed them...so animals, people to dispatch animals, cook the animals, drummers...all kinds of stuff. In Haiti, with the way things are going, you’re looking at more than $10K for that...and they’re going to have to do it for you, because you’re not a manbo or a houngan yet.

There are no lwa involved in this, because that’s a scam. There can’t really be any ancestors involved, because you can’t buy or sell them and so they can’t really do anything for you there except feed your ancestors….? Except she thinks that’s a scam, too:

Even after you’re a manbo or a houngan of your ‘bitasion’, you’re still a hounsi with them and still have a responsibility to their spirits..even though you aren’t from their ‘bitasion’. I guess that means you’re still dependent on them, right? It keeps you a servant?

But, what’s a little dependency and servitude when you’re a manbo or houngan of your own ‘bitasion’. They’ll assign you a ‘main ancestor’ to work with...but that’s not like a met tet that they would pick out of a magician’s hat. So, you’re good, right? Oh:

I want folks to go look at the Bonewits tool again. I want folks to have that open in one window, and this open in another. Read carefully. She is not yet saying she is doing this, but she is paving the road to make this look authentic. It’s not, it’s psychobabble word salad with a price tag attached. She is telling you right upfront—doing things differently, changing the fuckery—that what she is giving is not traditional Haitian Vodou. She is making things up and planning on bankrolling her retirement home on someone else’s back.

She doesn’t even have any support for this because she doesn’t consult elders, she just goes ‘straight to source’:

Haitian Vodou is based on family. Vodou-adjacent rites have hierarchy. If she is not adhering to this, she is not practicing Vodou, she is practicing Jessyka Winston with Haitian trappings and accessories. The religion changes and grows, but it is never at the behest of one individual and her husband—it is at the behest of the lwa, who we serve and there are ways that happens, which is well-documented over the last couple hundred years.

She is telling you who she is right now, PAY ATTENTION.

If you have been saving up for a $157 half hour consultation/$28 fixed candle/$12 moushwa value meal, you are better off throwing your money in a bonfire and cracking a beer. Don’t buy pretty packaging when the insides are rotten.

It is one thing to create this atmosphere of disinformation on your own, with your own name, but literally within the last 24 hours, she’s gone further:

Now she is naming specific people as not being real Haitian Vodou. The kicker? Manbo Carmel was the manbo Jessyka did kanzo with in 2018. In roughly a year, Jessyka has decided she has enough experience and knowledge to determine what is real and what isn’t, and what is Haitian Vodou and what is not. The sheer balls it takes for a non-Haitian to say that what a fairly well-known Haitian is doing is not Haitian Vodou is staggering. This is not brave or anything, it’s just unchecked and uninformed arrogance.

This is not the first time Jessyka has done this, though. Not that long ago, she came for my mother and the sosyete I’m initiated into:

She sings an old tired song and performs a busted old dance. The line that white people are too stupid to function is one that she likes to repeat regularly, and she keeps going in on cost like she won’t be asking people to pay for her back-issue-magazine-collage version of an initiatory experience. She brings up a rumor that’s been dead for years, and makes it clear (for folks who have been around for more than 10 minutes) where here info comes from.

The worst part is that this is what she did when someone shared their process, and she did it as a priest because she had already kanzoed at that point. That’s a level of immaturity that someone needs to be better than when they call themselves a manbo or an houngan. Operating on rumor and spreading gossip is what teenagers do, not priests who care when people are coming to them asking questions.

And, like, “not to talk shit..”? Come on. Come correct on stuff like that. If you are going to talk shit, then talk shit and own it and own that you are spreading rumors that you were not a party to because they have been floating around out in the ether since before you even thought about making kanzo.

 There are also ways to speak to and about elders when you think misaction or harm has been done. If you really thought Manbo Maude was out here hexing her children and hurting her lineage, there are ways to approach it. Like, she’s not hard to reach or hard to find; you could call her directly. I know she’s spoken about it to people before, one of them being me because I asked when I heard the rumor. Or, you could approach one of her numerous, visible children and ask them out of concern for their well-being and safety. Or, you could approach any of the priests who make their friendship with Manbo Maude and Sosyete Nago known, which is easy to track down on Facebook or in any of the documentation about what the sosyete does that’s online. But, when your goal is to defame so you can elevate yourself above all of that, this is what you do.

Since she proclaims she knows and understands Haitian Vodou, she should understand the culture Haitian Vodou has high expectations of how children and younger people treat elders, both in age and in religious settings. You don’t do this. You don’t go out of your way to character assassinate an elder, even if you think they are absolutely 100% fraudulent. You can disagree, you can say it politely, but you don’t act like an ill-mannered playground bully and you don’t pot-stir. This is basic cultural knowledge.

My initial reaction when seeing this was ‘well, she really tried it, didn’t she?’, and that was followed by showing it to a sibling or two and noting that if I ever did something like this, my manmi (Manbo Maude) would have my head on a platter. Like, I would get a phone call and the conversation would go something like “right or wrong, you do not do this. I raise my children better than this”. I have been very gently pulled up for much more trivial things, and when that has happened I have wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole because I was so embarrassed. Not because Manbo Maude embarrassed me, but because she sat across from me, looked me in the eye, and told me she expects better of me because she knows I can be better.

Sadly, Jessyka does not have this grace in her life, because, as noted above, she believes elders are a scam.

And yet, she keeps digging. This morning, she went in on a transwoman who pushed back at her assertions that everything that does not flow from Jessyka is fake news fake Vodou and called her a man:

Like, you can disagree with someone (and Blair, the person Jessyka is talking about, and I have disagreed) and still not disregard humanity and gender. Again, Jessyka is showing us who she is.

Then, she starts flexing, because she’s catching some heat:

First it was send the spirits, now it’s haul out the Masons. Maybe it’s watch out for little green army men outside your door? Like, folks who have the power don’t need to say they have the power. They don’t need to say their boys are coming, because their boys are already there. This is immaturity on display, and she should know better and be held to better by people who care about her…that freedom horn is just the sound of her own voice, echoing into the depths of Instagram, of all things.

 And none of these people who she keeps posting quotes from are speaking for themselves. Not her husband, not her Mason friends, nothing. Anyone who has spent five minutes in a group of Haitians knows that, when folks have something to say, they don’t need someone else’s mouth to say it.

And, like, why not try some chante pwen on your *Instagram story* when you need to look hard? Girl WHAT? I had some inappropriate laughter because This Is Not How Things Work:

She goes on at length about people not coming to her page to discuss with her…but why? Like, why invest that way when she deletes and blocks and throws Instagram temper tantrums? She doesn’t want to hear anything but what she knows, but desperately wants engagement. She tells Haitians how to be Haitian, but then doesn’t understand why the folks she aims at—houngans and manbos who have had the lwa on their head for longer than she has been alive—won’t engage with her.

There’s a really simple and straightforward answer that has come up already and that is really at the root of all of this: they don’t care. They are not invested in addressing whatever random, strung-together nonsense some blan who cannot describe where she comes from or how she came by what she has post on the internet, because their spirits and their lineages speak for themselves. Likewise, she keeps wondering why non-Haitians keep speaking up, and it’s because it’s the job of non-Haitians to collect their own. Why would anyone expect Haitian practitioners to dig in to this?

If someone did care and was invested, maybe she would have gotten some mentoring around this. Maybe they could have talked things through with her and helped her clarify what she was thinking and feeling so that she could post organized thoughts, instead of a stream of consciousness laced with words she might think give her an air of authenticity and threaded with threats and intimidation. Maybe someone could pull her up privately.

But, we are here. There’s a lot more and it looks like she is posting more by the minute. She couches it as it being co-written by her Haitian husband (maybe for authenticity?), but it is her name on it and no one else’s. She wants people to be scared, but there’s nothing to be scared of. She wants people to be intimidated, but there’s nothing intimidating here when you know how to see past the frothy, frenetic posting and really see what she is/is not saying. She wants to keep identifying people and why they are not valid in her eyes, she can keep going.

She’s probably going to try and tell me some things about myself or insist that she’s going to have her spirits kill me or that Masons are outside my house right now and….whatever. It’s okay. I know who I am.I don’t walk around scared.

But, I mean what I said in the beginning: Jessyka is not beyond redemption or repair. She can turn all this around in a heartbeat and make a different choice. The lwa have immeasurable grace for us and all our human failings and, if we can be humble, they can give that to us when we need it most. She has a spiritual sickness and deep spiritual problems, but that’s nothing that can’t be treated because we have the treatment.

We. Us. Community.

She has set herself apart, but she doesn’t have to be alone. We are a community, and if she reached out there would be an answer. Part of calling out bad behavior is calling someone in to heal. She can heal what is clearly a hurting heart and a confused head because we can heal a hurting heart and a confused head. When one suffers many suffer, and her suffering is palatable. I would invite her to bath with cool water and fresh basil, and to sit with Legba for a bit and look for the other path. We are always given two paths, and we can always make a change. Ginen promises us balance, but only if we seek it.

Today, for Jessyka, for folks reading this, and for the general atmosphere of dis-ease and confusion, I pray for cool heads and peaceful hearts, and for the knowledge that, if we are brought to the table, there is a unique place for all of us.

Blessings,

Alex Batagi/Bonkira Bon Oungan Daguimin Minfort

Pitit Antiola Bo Manbo, pitit Selide Bo Manbo, pitit LaMerci Bo Manbo

Sosyete Nago/Kay Manbo Maude, Jacmel and Boston

October 2019

[nightmare-chaser]

Living In Interesting Times

Could everything stop happening for a few minutes? 

There are riots on the street. They are in the right but they are being attacked and murdered, because in the power’s eyes there are no right riots. The police, those we are told swore to protect us from criminals, have in fact sworn no such thing. They wield power as a weapon against those minorities they cannot stand. They dress in disguises and start violence so they have a reason to attack the peaceful.

I saw a post where a black woman said she no longer allows people to say “They did that because you’re black,” and instead corrects them to “They did that because they’re bigots.” Before I had seen that post, it had not occurred to me the difference in wording, it had not occurred to me how the blame was shifted on the daily. There is something unflinching about the response, and while I am not being attacked, I flinch still. How had I not heard?

We have a facist in the white house, except the facist is too sensitive and thinks “facist” is a strong word. He tells us anti-fascist sentiments are treason, are terrorist ideas, as he puts families in cages and calls them illegal. The cages are filled with disinfectant, flooding the air and causing burns on the people, and somehow the people will not condemn it as gas chambers, because those should have died with Hitler. Those should have died with Hitler, not been dragged into the modern era out of spite for a condemnation of the poor conditions of the victims.

We have only a few months to get the fascist out of office, or else he stays for another four years. The fascist’s name is Donald Trump, and the idea that he would ever be president was so laughable that the simpsons made a gag over how terrible he would be. When he won the presidency, his campaign staff treated it like a funeral, for he did not want the job. Why did we give the job to a fascist who did not want it? We need him out. If we do not get him out, if we must live with him killing us for another four years, then we will have to live with him appointing two more justices to the supreme court, and he will continue to kill us for many, many more.

There is a country that is about to be extinct. It’s name is Yemen and I cannot point it out on a map. My geography, my history classes have failed me. It’s been in a civil war for six years and I did not hear a peep about it. I could not tell you it’s culture or it’s people or it’s language or it’s art, and it’s dying. It’s healthcare collapsed under the strain of the pandemic and the people are starving to death. An entire country is about to die, but I cannot even watch in horror because the news is silent on it.

Can we stop living in interesting times? I heard the Greeks used to wish interesting times on another as a curse, and I understand why. I live in helpless fear as things happen miles from me that I cannot effect. I live in fear as the things nearest to me are ruled by a powerful few. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but it nearly certainly promises to be worse.

I am white. I am middle-classed. I do not fear for food or money, not right now. I am privileged and I am growing more aware of it by the day, and by the day I grow more ashamed of it. I did not make this system, but I profit from it with my mere existence and I do not know how to change it.

There was a black man shot dead by police in Atlanta, even though he was cooperative and polite. I do not know his name, and that is my own failing and a failing of the system. There was a black nurse shot dead in her own home by police, and her boyfriend is being charged for it. Her name is Breonna Taylor, but I do not know his name. There was a man named George whose last name I cannot spell whose neck was kneeled on by police until he suffocated. There are enough names of murdered black people to fill the back of a shirt in a dense paragraph of words, but I do not know them, and I do not know whether that is my personal failing or another of the system I find myself entangled in.

I learned in sociology class that society is more than the sum of it’s parts. I learned that even though we are all gears in society, society is also it’s own separate living organism. I did not understand it then, not fully. I understand it now, as I watch movements be born and gather members and fight to kill the rotten parts, as I watch things stay nearly the same anyway. Society has become a dragon to be defeated, but our knight is sickly or missing. The teeth are batons, it breathes tear gas, and it roars lies and “fake news” as it eats us alive.

There is a pandemic occurring, but the restrictions on movement and gatherings are being lifted. I wear a face mask to work to protect the customers from myself, hyperaware of how the customers do not care to protect me and will not cover their faces. Recovering from COVID-19 can leave you with conditions that you did not have before, ravaging your lungs and body until they never work quite right again. My grandmother texts me to complain that we should open faster and I’m struggling to explain to her why we cannot. The morgues in New York needed refrigerated trucks to hold the corpses in, and now we’re opening for the second wave. We did not flatten the curve, not enough. We are not prepared to open, but the facist leading us says we are and lies to our faces. 

The fascist ordered teargas and swat teams used to remove peaceful protestors from in front of a church so he could have a photograph without them ruining it. He promised us a racist and xenophobic wall built on our border, and instead built it around the white house to protect himself. He removed the qualified specialists from their positions and replaced them with bigots, then worked to make listening to specialists a political opinion instead of common sense. 

I am queer. There has been talk of how to remove gay marriage. It died quickly, at least I hope that’s what the silence means, but it existed. Poland is close to electing a leader who will outlaw queer ideaology in public places, as though love is an ideaology and not intrinsic to our being.

Is there any way we can skip this part? I’m tired and I’m scared. I’m ready for it to be tomorrow. The police defunded and public services grown, the pandemic gone and us healed, systematic racism dismantled and fascism erased. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and we’d’ve fixed everything.

That’s too simplistic. The riots have to happen. The protests, the petitions, the struggle. The deaths, the outrage, the fear. We must live through all of this if we wish to see that tomorrow, or else tomorrow is just another day to die in silence.

I am scared, though, and I am tired.

I am not doing anything. I do not know what to do. I do not know where the protests are, or when they are organized, and I do not know how to safely find out. I have no emergency contact I trust enough to tell if I go to a protest, and I am too scared to go without. I do not know how to protest, how to safely engage.

I am in college and I cannot imagine my future. I am told repeatedly that I need to decide, that every day gone is a day wasted. I am told repeatedly that I need to act, to take life by the horns and make something of myself. I am given resources to do so, but how can I? The world is going up in flames and I’m expected to choose a major and a career.

Society does not care for me. I am one more gear in it’s machine. I am one for snack for the dragon to eat. My mother tried to get me to ask for a raise at my job and did not understand that corporations do not value employees. I work minimum wage and I am disposable to the higher ups. The virus gave us extra business and I broke down crying from the stress twice. My coworkers have also cried and it is not a surprise. The corporations use us as gears and use us until we break, then they replace us with a newer model. Unions are still the bad guy in all the gossip. Our nation has a history of union busting that I am forcibly reminded of often.

The world is ending, somehow, someway. I cannot tell if what is dying is a free world, or a cage. I cannot tell if tomorrow will come with the dawn of a new golden age, or if we will all be silenced and in chains. We are living through history, and the generations after us are watching us now, and I do not know what they see. The victor will always write themself as the hero, and I don’t know what hero that distant future sees.

I saw a post by a school counselor. She said the teenagers are depressed. She said young people used to dream big, dream of being astronauts or movie stars or changing the world in a significant way. She said the teenagers of today are hesitant to say they might own a house. They are afraid to set even the lowest bar.

I should be doing more. The world is falling down around our ears, but I do nothing. The people scream in defiance and I whisper. I am afraid and I am helpless. I used to dream of being famous, when I was small. Today, I am scared of the future, and I feel small.

I spread the awareness posts to my few followers. I sign the petitions. I give donations, fives and tens to the various organizations. I play on the internet and try to forget the world outside of my room, just for a bit. The days fall through my hands like water, unused and wasted. It feels like dying.

I survive. I click another link. I watch a world die.

[dear-wormwoods]

Ch.2 reactions part two

Again, spoilers ahead for everything.

Thoughts on the Jade of the Orient:

- The restaurant scene has been talked about a lot already but just to reiterate: Richie needs Eddie’s attention on him 100% of the time and he slides back into that neediness literally instantly. 

- Favorite moment during the initial reunion was the background conversation between Richie and Eddie about Eddie’s many ailments. Something about diabetes and then “I think you just read shit on the internet and -” …. Richie is not wrong, that is absolutely what happens. Eddie cannot be trusted with WebMD. Right out the gate Richie is like there is nothing wrong with you you’re just psyching yourself out about dumb shit. 

- I’m very glad that Beverly’s career as a fashion designer was confirmed. I saw in one of the Reddit AMA’s a couple weeks ago something like “It doesn’t say what her job is, she’s just in an abusive marriage” so I was dreading that being the case... thank god that person just wasn’t paying attention.

- Again, loved Mike’s mailroom Charlie freak out and Eddie and Richie getting increasingly angry about it while Ben is like LET HIM TALK LET HIM EXPLAIN!!

- Nice inclusion of the crawling eye even though it wasn’t in Ch.1. Love novel Easter eggs! “The fortune cookie is looking at me!!” 

- Richie shouting Eddie’s name during the fortune cookie fiasco when they were on opposite corners of the room… like what Rich, you don’t trust BEN to save Eddie from the fortune cookie bat thing?? Ben’s got this. But I loved that - Richie shouting Eddie’s name and putting Eddie’s safety before his own is a recurring thing throughout the movie and it starts here. 

- Loved Richie flipping out on that kid. And Eddie’s “I knew it!” re: Richie not writing his own material... makes me wonder if Eddie watched Richie’s Netflix specials or whatever without really understanding why he constantly feels compelled to watch this terrible stand up routine.

Thoughts on the Library & Derry Town House:

- I really liked the phone call with Patty but it just made me wish we got more of Stan and Patty interacting earlier. Her voice sounded so broken and I wanted more of their domestic bliss pre-phone call to balance that out.

- Richie and Eddie leaving as a duo and Ben and Beverly leaving as a duo...

- Really not sure how to feel about the “Mike lied to everyone” thread that starts here and continues until the final encounter. Like I get why he did, because he needed to get them there, and he needed to introduce the information slowly to keep them there. They also had every right to be pissed about it, because, you know... informed consent and all. But I’m just not sold on Mike being quite that deceptive.

- Like... Mike literally spiking Bill’s drink? Hated that. Again, I get why he felt it necessary, because if Bill knew and Bill told the others to stay, they’d listen. But... couldn’t they have found a way to get Bill to knowingly and willingly consume the root or whatever? Idk!! I just hated it!!

- Back at the Town House... “Eduardo! Andele!” - perfect. Also perfect? Eddie having two giant bulging suitcases and still needing to go back up for more when literally everyone else has one fucking duffel bag of shit and Ben didn’t even bother bringing his stuff inside. We love over-preparedness.

- Love Ben still after 27 years noticing all the subtle things about Bev, knowing there’s something wrong just by her posture and face, being the one who can get her to talk about it, etc.

- Later, when Bill and Mike are there too and Bev’s telling them about seeing them all die... Not sure how I feel about the Losers only choosing to stay and destroy IT because they’re going to die either way. It makes sense, because Richie has a point when he says they don’t owe Derry shit, but like at some point their motivation to stay and fight needs to change from self-preservation to altruistic bravery, and I didn’t really FEEL that shift happen for everyone. 

Thoughts on the Barrens/Clubhouse scenes:

- Poor Jack’s CGI in that flashback scene is the most noticeable out of the entire cast, for the entire movie. No matter how hard they tried, you can still tell he’s twice the size he was in Ch.1 and his voice... fdjhskghs. Oh well. 

- Loved Eddie informing Ben about safety codes and violations and then telling him that if he gets hurt Ben will be liable. He’s literally ready to fucking sue Ben. And it was a nice little foreshadowing of his career later on. 

- Eddie removing the shower cap once Richie made fun of them all. He really wants Richie of all people to think he’s cool. (Sidenote: I knew Stan would be the one responsible for the shower caps and I KNEW it would be about getting spiders in their hair... that would be my train of thought, too, Stanley)

- Eddie’s Thundercats shirt... you KNOW Eddie watches Thundercats like “okay Bill is Lion-O, Ben is Tygra, Bev is Cheetara, Mike is Panthro...”

- Hammock moment in particular: Eddie is a cat confirmed. Super cute moment. Richie: “I can see your vagina!” as a way to call out how fucking short Eddie’s shorts are. Imagine poor Richie’s inner monologue with Eddie’s legs all over him like that… I’m surprised he could speak at all.

- Adult Richie nominating Eddie as a sacrifice because he’s small and Eddie getting defensive about it… they’re both so aware of the size difference between them and they’re both secretly into it, it’s obvious.

- Richie imitating Pennywise and doing the dance. “Guess I’ll go fuck myself…”

- Richie and Eddie in particular wanting to stick together instead of split up. Y’all are so transparent.

Next: Walking Tours and Henry Bowers

[grangerdangerfics]

I hesitate to join in on the file-sharing discourse, but it’s been weighing on my mind. It is a complex, nuanced issue, and there is no way everyone in a fandom will ever agree on it. However, a few thoughts: I support file-sharing in general. The fandom has gone through a number of waves where important and popular fics and fic-sharing sites disappear. I completely understand and support the need and desire to save and restore stories. I’m part of a few of these Facebook groups myself! However, I also think, if you’re a reader, that it is worth thinking deeply about the risks fanfic writers still face. The double-standard that exists in porn also exists in fanfiction: a lot of people might be a little embarassed to admit they watch (or in this case, read) it, but everyone knows that tons of people do, and that there is a huge demand for it. But people who make or perform in porn (or in this case, write fanfic, especially NSFW, slash, or controversial fanfic) face a much higher level of stigma, societal scrutiny, and, in some cases, discrimination than most readers face. And in some countries, people still face imprisonment for writing certain kinds of content. This stigma is part of why I hesitated, first to write and then to post my fanfiction, and why I feel guarded about sharing too much about my personal identity. We live in a strange age of the internet, in which there is an increasingly long and deep paper trail behind every single one of us, but in which there do not yet exist legal protections around all of this abundant personal information. I was previously involved in a legal situation several years ago (I was badly injured in a car crash) in which I had to refrain completely from all personal social media posts for three years while the case went on. Any innocent comment I made on the internet or a social media platform could have been twisted and used against me in court. That period of time (which was fraught and frankly terrible) is thankfully behind me, but it forever changed the way that I think about the internet and social media. We live in a beautiful bubble of squee and flailing, a community of fellow fans who get it. But the thought of the pages of extremely graphic sex between Harry Potter characters that I’ve written falling into the hands of my neighbors or my co-workers or a jury, people who at the least would express judgment and scorn, and at the most could make choices with enormous consequences about my life or what I deserve, fills my heart with cold dread.   When I first thought about posting NSFW fanfiction, I thought:

Could I be doxed?

If I were doxed, could I lose my job?

If I were doxed, would it sever my relationships with family members? 

Would my fic being out in the open and associated with me threaten or change my romantic relationship?

If any of my accounts can be linked to any of personal accounts and I end up in any kind of legal situation again, could it be used against me to shame or discredit me in a public forum?

If I were to die unexpectedly, would my fanfiction surface and color my legacy for the people in my life?

If I ever end up getting original work published, and especially if I opt to write YA, could the fact that I shared erotic fanfiction create unforeseen wrinkles? 

All of this to say, here are just a few reasons I could imagine a writer might want to remove a fic from circulation:

They are in a custody battle and are afraid of losing their children.

They have some other legal situation going on in which it could be used against them.

They wrote it as a teenager or young adult and do not want it hanging over their adult lives. 

They got doxed and any time anyone can find any content linked to the username that they were doxed from, it has an immediate negative impact on their personal life.

They now find the fic problematic (glorifying abuse, homophobia, racism, etc.), want to recant, and don’t want to be associated with it anymore.

They have gotten an original work (or a modified fic) published and removing all of their fanfiction is part of their contract.

Yes, of course, it is derivative work, and so by ever sharing it we as writers forfeit legal copyright and a certain amount of control. Yes, the internet is a wilderness. Yes, once something is in circulation, it is impossible to remove it completely. And of course any fanfiction author takes the risk that anything they choose to put out into the ether will probably never be able to be scrubbed completely clean from it. All of these things are of course true.

But also, if an author has explicitly requested in their notes that a work not be posted or shared in other places, or if an author explicitly requests that their works be removed from a file-sharing group, I believe that removing the work is the respectful thing to do. And beyond matters of respect, it is worth considering that if an author is asking you not to share or to remove a fic, they probably have a very good reason for doing so, one that could possibly have an enormous impact on their personal life. 

I don’t think that there is one right answer here! But: food for thought.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[itsclownhours]

merlin as tumblr posts again because when i edited a typo in the original it fucked up the formatting

everyone: you have to make time for yourself

morgana: *stays up until 1 am every night crying* me time

.

morgana: ohhhh so the pain is forever and endless i get it now

.

young!mordred: once i learn how to read and write it’s over for you hoes

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lancelot, in cursive: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: what does this say

elyan: i can’t read cursive handwriting

gwaine: bitch me neither that’s why i asked

.

arthur, to merlin, about lancelot: is he...y’know…*gestures downard to super hell*

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uther, straight: hey what’s up guys do you want to go get some food

arthur and morgana, gay: ??????

uther: oh sorry i mean asgdhjdhs guys do you??? want some food??? lmao ashdjdjhs

arthur and morgana: oh! agshdjjshsj yeah lmao agshdj

.

morgana: do you ever associate the word “girlfriend” with wlw so much that you forget straight boys have girlfriends

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gwen: am taking care of a tiny kitten. have given it an excellent name. dad thinks i’m calling her “minty” but this is actually short for The Government

gwen: The Government bit my finger and pooped on the floor

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gwaine: peak art is when you were like six and you scribbled all over ms paint and then carefully paintbucketed in all the different shapes in the scribbles to make “stained glass”

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morgause: forcing my car to commit sins so it goes to hell with me when i die

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leon, after arthur gives the knights a pep talk: so motivational...time to drill a hole in my skull

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morgana: i want to be a she really did that!! kind of girl but i don’t do anything

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arthur: pros and cons of being my friend:

arthur: pro: you have a friend

arthur: con: it’s me

.

gwaine, to lancelot: bro let’s watch a horror movie together...bro you look scared do you wanna share a blanket dude? if you wanna hold hands it’s ok. if you wanna rest your head on my shoulder it’s alright bro...bro if you wanna kiss that’s understandable that was a scary movie...we can keep cuddling after the movie is over it’s alright dude…

.

lancelot: old town road but he just keeps listing all the places he has horses

gwaine: i got the horses in the back

gwaine: horses on the track

gwaine: horses in the shack and i got horses fetching snacks

gwaine: i got the horses in earth’s core

gwaine: down under the floor

gwaine: horses in the store and i got horses on the moor

.

gwaine: died and came back as a cowboy i call that reintarnation

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morgana: *shows up at college* excuse me will someone please direct me to the leftist brainwashing class? i’m here for the leftist brainwashing class

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merlin: finally found someone i was more disappointed in that myself: the entirety of america camelot

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morgause: customer (derogatory)

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arthur: business major (derogatory)

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leon: leonardo dicaprio date a woman over 25 challenge

gwaine: thought that said “leonardo da vinci” and was confused since da vinci was gay and also since you were calling out someone who’s been dead for well over 7 years

leon: well. da vinci has been well over 7 years, i’ll give you that

.

morgana: the retirement age needs to be lowered to 25. i’ve had enough

.

gwaine: i’m fucking in luigi’s mansion

leon: who?

gwaine: some italian freak

gwaine: oh you meant who am i fucking. your mom

.

leon: stop setting things on fire because you’re curious about what will happen. what will happen is fire

gwaine: but what if...something else happens. just this 1 time

.

morgause: bored? burn an orphan. who’re they gonna tell? their parents?

.

morgana: due to personal reasons i will be a serial arsonist

.

mithian: fruit (affectionate)

.

arthur: going to the fruit (derogatory) store do you want anything

.

gwen: fruit (salad, yummy yummy)

.

morgana, to gwen: i’m allergic to hookup culture and too weird to participate anyway. die in my arms

.

kilgharrah: i am fast and full of teeth. i will die in a barn fire

.

morgana: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana: evil again

.

morgause: every day i put on my evil little clothes and do my evil little tasks

.

percival: megan thee stallion and timothee chalamet are the same age

gwaine: megan thee stallion 🤝 timo thee chalamet

.

morgana: hey how many swords do you have

morgause: sword of a lot

morgana: blocked

morgause: parried

.

morgana and gwen simultaneously in 1x10: *chanting* girls with swords girls with swords

.

morgana: the more knives you have the more valid you are

.

kilgharrah: blocked. blocked. blocked. you’re all blocked. none of you are free from sin.

.

morgana: seven deadly sins speedrun

.

gwaine: i want 6 pet sloths so i can name them after every sin except for sloth

.

merlin: the eighth deadly sin is networking

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arthur: online school culture is constantly wondering if there’s a sneaky little assignment you missed...is it tucked under modules or assignments or heaven forbid, announcements? who’s to say?

.

gaius: asynchronous learning

merlin, a clown: mmmnaptime

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arthur: have you ever just cried because you’re you

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elyan, to percival: bro, we are teens . it’s ok to cry around me . i’m your best friend . i love you … bro we are kissing now … no don’t stop bro … bro …

.

morgana: mad bc i was told as the bride my wedding would be “my day” but actually where will be a whole other bride there and we will have to share it

.

leon: i’m disgusted every time someone does a gender reveal and it’s about a gender i already know about, what kind of reveal is that

.

leon: gender reveal party??? no, this is a gender repeal party. we out here revoking genders

.

gwaine: you’re laughing. i asked you who sings party rock anthem and you’re laughing

.

gwaine: make no mistake not only am i party rocking but i’m also in the house tonight

elyan: are you shuffling?

gwaine: everyday

.

morgana: lung extensions

morgana: with extended lungs you can: scream longer, breathe harder, brag about extended lungs

morgana: this procedure is not legal but i will do it for you

morgana: do not tell the police or morgause

.

morgana: i’m so sick of dna, i’m going to have all mine removed

morgause: good news! this is a real thing that can happen to you

morgana: perfect, sign me up

.

morgana: if YOU die because i poisoned you...how is that MY fault like i’m sorry you aren’t immune to my poisons i think that’s genuinely something you need to work on. fix yourself before blaming others

.

arthur: my body is NOT a “temple”...it is a CLOWN CAR and NONE OF THESE BITCHES KNOW HOW TO DRIVE

.

morgause: live

morgause: laugh

morgause: l u r k

.

mcdonald’s employee: please sir get off the table

gwaine: I ASKED FOR TWO LARGE FRIES *dumping bag of fried out onto the floor* BUT INSTEAD GOT A HUNDRED FUCKEN LITTLE ONES

.

merlin: i relate to vampires because i too must be clearly and specifically invited in before i have the audacity to try to participate in anything

.

gwaine: it can’t be september, just yesterday is was marchgustuary

lancelot: today’s date: [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/20

.

gwaine: why are internet friends not normalized. it’s 2020 they’re probably making robots that will wipe your ass for you and i can’t text grace in the uk and tell her to have a good day? fuck you

.

percival: imagine if halsey was in beauty and the beast

elyan: are you insane like gaston. been in pain like gaston. bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like gaston

.

arthur: my dad is learning about pronouns/gender identity and he called me in the middle of the night to tell me he is cis

.

merlin: ough. those first 400 bites of dirt were not so good. maybe the next one will be better

.

morgana: i’m at the dark candy store, buying sorrowful ranchers

.

merlin: i’m surprised no one has ever punched me in the face

.

gwen: i want a gf so i can send her memes about loving my gf

.

morgause: oh to cook with my wife and stand directly in front of cabinets and drawers she needs to open

.

morgause: decided i will no longer be paying taxes. what are they gonna do, tax me more? go ahead. i won’t pay those either. oh i’m going to prison? the one paid for by my tax dollars? sorry, didn’t pay em. now there is no prison. i am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times

.

merlin: lab safety but the teacher just wants to you die

merlin: lab safety: 1. drink whatever’s in that beaker. i know you fucking want to

.

morgause: my therapist is selling her house so i’m gonna find the listing online and make her living room my zoom backgrounds before our next session. you wanna get in my head? ok well i’m in your home babe. i’m in charge now

morgana: yeah i see why you’re in therapy

.

morgana: i hate it when people ask me to “explain my thought process” like hell if i know

morgana: what’s going on in that head of yours?” nothing i want to be a part of

.

mordred: hey girls what’s the hot gossip what’s new what’s the 411

morgana and morgause: everything is bad and getting worse by the day

.

morgause: common letter greetings from 1889

morgause: dearest my-soon-to-be-enemy

morgause: salutations and i hope you enjoy contact prison

morgause: i hope this letter finds you in a ditch

.

arthur: *highlights all the wrong and unimportant stuff with full confidence*

.

merlin: i’ve tried opening my mouth and saying words before and i’ve gotta say, i’m not a fan

.

morgana: a large group of humans is called a fuck that

.

website: synonyms for blood: juice

mithian: thank you thesaurus.com, that is absolutely not what i was looking for

.

gwaine: gen z humor was single-handedly cultivated by the zoo wee mama comic and you can’t convince me otherwise

.

morgana: screw this it’s halloween now *turns into a swarm of bats them consumes the moon*

.

morgana: i can’t believe the heterosexuals are gone. they’re gone

uther: we’re still here

arthur: who said that

.

gwaine: no more france

gwaine: society has progressed passed the need for france

.

morgause: girls night out (of body experience)

.

morgana, to morgause: what do you mean “what have i been up to”...i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch

.

merlin: stop complaining about your life. there are literally people living in camelot

.

arthur, trying to find new knights: oh so you’re a human? name three pictures with traffic lights in them

.

gwaine: we mcfreaking lost her doctor

.

morgause: looking for a wife in the walmart

.

morgause: arrested for visiting www.killing.com/murder

.

gwaine, to merlin: no bro this isn’t a date listen bro

gwaine: it’s bruhnch

.

morgause, to cenred: if you think i’m not interested, you’re right

.

gwen: put a pancake on a girl’s head when she’s asleep to keep her warm and safe

.

morgana: idk what mad scientist needs to hear this today but your goggles and lab coat are incredibly flattering and all your experiments will block away the scientific community who called you a fool

.

morgause: i’m gonna fucking die disease

morgause: symptoms: back hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

.

arthur: if you think i’m annoying now wait until i get over my fear of being perceived as annoying

.

merlin: sorry if i’m bothering you

surgeon: how do you keep waking up and saying that

.

gwaine: home depot needs more small tunnels for me to crawl through tbh

.

percival: hot tip: soup is customizable! go wild but know your limits

.

morgana: brains say “i know a spot” and take you to a traumatic memory from 2011

.

mithian: “can you multitask” yes actually i am losing my mind and chilling at the same time

.

morgana: quarantine schedule to keep you on track

morgana: wake up

morgana: neglect online school

morgana: yearn (ongoing project)

morgana: again!

.

mithian: if cats don’t want to be held like little babies maybe they shouldn’t be roughly the size and shape of little babies

.

morgause: fuck this pandemic i could’ve ruined 2020 on my own

.

morgana: a cute girl told me she has lots of plants in her house and i told her for some fucking reason “damn the oxygen at your place must be mad crisp” and somehow still got her number so. chase your dreams. nothing is impossible apparently

.

morgana: oh to wear a knife strapped against my thigh beneath a silk dress

.

morgana, running off with morgause at the end of season 2: i hate this place i want to go to build a bear

.

morgana, at work: i’m evil

morgana, 1 second after clocking out: not evil anymore i want to be loved now

morgana, the next day at work: evil again

.

season 2 morgana: i am fine thank you for asking! though recently there has been a darkness growing within me

.

morgause: *thinks about love* okay well i am just losing my mind and being insane now

.

arthur: you think you can hurt my feelings? i’ve been the least favorite in every single friendship group i’ve had since i was 8

.

morgana, staring out the window at arthur and merlin: look at them plotting my downfall

.

mithian: i wanna buy clown noses in bulk and start sticking them on every person i see whose mask is pulled too low

.

mithian: oh to be a tiny cat whose biggest concern is the looming threat of being gently picked up and kissed on the head

.

morgana: i deserve to be kissed

.

morgana: did you have a homoerotic friendship with a girl in high school that ended in tragedy and you two are never talking again or are you normal?

.

mithian: just diagnosed with forehead kiss deficiency :/

.

morgana: i think i’ll continue to wear a mask when this shit’s all over, and huge sunglasses. my face is none of your business

.

morgause: my therapist told me that sometimes when a person consumes the same piece of media over and over they may be unconsciously coping with a mental block so now i’m trying to figure out what the fuck i was going through that made me watch ratatouille 8 times a day for a solid month in middle school

.

morgause: opposite of depression nap. depression awakeness. refreshing the same three websites over and over. there’s nothing new on any of them. eight seconds have passed and it feels like a century

.

morgana: very homophobic that my head is not laying on the chest of my maidservant as i am drifting off to sleep

.

merlin: no no, it’s fine, i’ll text myself back

.

morgana: *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns* *pines* *longs* *yearns*

.

arthur: i’d have to be a fool not to? being a fool and not doing things are my top two activities

.

gwaine: you think it’s easy to be me? you think it’s easy to get up every. single. day. and be an industrial grade dumbass? well it’s not. but that’s what i do. and i’ll never stop.

.

morgana: ah shit i’m sorry man, my schedule for the week is all booked

sunday: yearn

monday: pine

tuesday: long

wednesday: ache

thursday: sigh

friday: lament

saturday: crave

.

morgana: talents include: being a public menace, denying God’s will, petting dogs, yearning, being dramatic, witchcraft, quoting classic literature when no one asked, napping, befriending a murder of crows, being gay, covering up my emotions by being “the funny friend” when in reality i’m really going through it, wistfully staring out the car window

.

merlin: *doesn’t even do the bare minimum* all in a day’s work

.

cenred: a “period” is not an excuse to have an attitude

morgause: i miss the times when men would go to war and die

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morgana: the cheap halloween vampire fangs stay ON during sex

.

gwen: maybe i pspspspsp’ed you because i love you. did you think of that? huh?

.

morgana: mom said it’s my turn to hand out the ominous and vague warnings

arthur: that wasn’t mom

uther: she JUST SAID it was her turn

.

morgause: i’m a chill person but if my back doesn’t stop hurting i’m going to take out my spine and beat God with it

.

mithian: one of these days i’m going to say the f word

mithian: then you’ll all be sorry

.

morgause: 3 words every girl wants to hear

morgause: club penguin membership

.

morgana: hmm, yes.

morgana: time to s i p

morgana: some *~crispy~*

morgana: d i h y d r o g e n m o n o x i d e

.

morgause: roll call! raise your hand if you’re in the following fandoms:

morgause: 1. suffering 2. the pain of living

morgana: *raises both hands and a leg*

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leon: it’s so hard being a single mom when you have no kids and are a male teenager

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merlin: yeah bro hit me up and we’ll cancel some plans sometime

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morgana: my brain, or as i like to call it, the suffer contraption

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morgause: my circle so small i almost cut myself off

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morgause hyping herself up before entering any public area: i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal

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arthur: today in french we learned how to say “what’s in the bag” and i couldn’t stop laughing because

arthur: swaggity swag qu’est-ce qui dans le sac

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merlin: even when i am not speaking, know that horrible sentences are raging within me

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mithian in 5x04: sorry bro i can’t go out tonight. i’m stuck in an eternal state of melancholy

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morgause: shower gel label: immerse yourself in this new “Me Time” luxury frooty tooty. abandon all sense of identity and dissolve your memories into this soothing chemical broth. one billion melons are in this tube...use them wisely

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leon, writing a headline about the most recent knights’ mission: local dumbasses knew that what they were getting themselves into and did it anyways

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morgana: *feels random pain in body*

morgana: kill me

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mithian: *slowly inches closer to your pet*

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morgause: *refuses to look at texts* i love conversation and communication

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arthur: cute gender neutral things to call your partner

arthur: significant annoyance

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leon: the most unrealistic fantasy trope is the one where half of the pair works in some sort of shop and one is a customer because i have literally never thought about a customer with anything other than contempt

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gwaine: why is everyone talking about 1d all of a sudden did one of them die

elyan: they’re 10 years old now

gwaine: i wish them luck 4th grade is tough!!

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gwaine: must i pursue a career? is it not enough to be passionate about tv shows and snack foods?

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leon, aroace: cool date idea: me eating oatmeal by myself

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morgana: i have no self of steam

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gwaine: i hate wearing a mask. i miss being able to gently kiss my trader joe’s cashier on the lips after they ring up my $8 box of blueberries

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morgana: committing acts of violence today…*pushes morgause’s glass of water off the counter*

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gwaine: mario will do anything to put a smile on your face

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morgana: haha we get along so well...our brains just work the same way

morgause, after changing her entire personality to match morgana’s after analyzing the way she talks and texts: haha yeah it’s incredible

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gwaine: covered in sauce, trembling

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arthur: *says the vaguest most incoherent shit ever*

arthur: you know what i mean :/

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[online]

morgana: *screenshots things her girlfriend said to her so she can read it again later* yeah i’m not gay

uther: dude no offence i don’t want to sound like an sjw or anything but if you have a girlfriend you’re straight. that’s just how it works

morgana: i’m a girl

uther: what the fuck

.

morgana: the second you say “family group chat” i know we are not the same

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gwen: what if early in the morning after buying groceries we got caught in the rain and i used my jacket to cover your head ut we still got soaked and we made a fire at home and brewed tea and sat together watching the rain as our cats hid under our feets at each sound of thunder and we ate stew for dinner and watched tv until we fell asleep on the couch with your head resting on my shoulder

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gwaine, to percival: hold my hand bro we’re crossing the street

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percival: imageine if we all just started ignoring celebrities though

percival: i can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. imagine kyie jenner posting a selfie and it gets 12 likes

.

morgana: this isn’t fun anymore i need a kiss

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morgause at 1159 pm: life’s great lol

morgause at 1201 am: does anyone really know me? most importantly do i really know me? what if life doesn’t get better than this?

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merlin: king i needbfjdjgnjfg qldkr snmsmdjgjt ….. .. i need--fjrjkrhgphpqn dd

arthur: huh *dunks merlin’s head back underwater*

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morgana: i don’t go to therapy or take any pills i just rawdog life and let my brain turn into soup

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mordred: dark emails

morgause: to whom it WILL concern

morgana: now that this email has found you

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gwaine: hi waiter could i get the spaghetti i promise i’ll behave this time

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merlin: the sexiest thing about me? everything hurts my feelings

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gwaine: how is sex fun if i have to remove my crocs to have it

elyan: if he makes you remove your crocs for sex he isn’t the one

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morgause: a motherfucker could use an embrace

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morgana: every night after 10pm my feelings start crawling out, starved, as i beat them with a moderately large stick vigorously hissing “stay back” until i inevitably fall asleep

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fanfiction: there’s only one room available…

morgause, who specifically chose a rated m and explicit story: oh my gosh there’s only one room they’re gonna share a bed what’s gonna happen next

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morgana: i can have a little unrealistic romantic fantasy. as a treat

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arthur: some of y’all weren’t asked out as a joke in middle school and it shows

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morgana: how is everyone doing. i’ll go first i’m doing badly

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morgana: being a kid was so fucking funny we’d just go around lying to each other’s faces constantly to impress each other one of the knights told me he was the first person to visit the sun and when i asked him what it was like to prove he was lying he said he didn’t remember because they sent him there when he was a baby and to this day the mental image of nasa launching an unsupervised baby into the sun still makes me crack up

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elyan: do you wish you were seeing somebody

leon: a therapist

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morgause: when you see someone from high school and they don’t recognize you that’s the exact opposite of the mortifying ordeal of being known. the gratifying relief of being forgotten

.

[texting]

morgana: you seem hard to kill

morgause: aw thank you

morgause: i haven’t been killed yet

morgana: to your knowledge

morgause: what

.

morgana: just truly bonkers how much i love lying down……..like being horizontal? Unparalleled

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arthur: when i was younger i really thought that piranhas were going to be a bigger issue for me than they’ve turned out to be

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morgause: filling out the depression and anxiety checkboxes at the doctors is always so sad but also very very funny

morgause: i am handed a piece of paper. i check off a box that says “every day i wish i were dead”. i hand back the paper. the paper and its contents are never again discussed.

.

morgana: unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, i cannot just “walk up and join the circle of people talking”, but it does sound lovely thank you

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morgana: if california is so expensive why don’t you move to somewhere like ohio

morgause: full offense but i’d rather be dead in california than alive in ohio

morgause: ugly and uninspiring--review of ohio

.

morgana: staying up late not even fun anymore it’s just sad

.

morgause: everyone should be comfortable in their own skin :)

morgause’s brain: except for you

morgause: except for me :)

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mithian: please peer pressure me into finishing projects

merlin: do it or you’re straight

mithian: i said peer pressure not threaten

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morgause: the year is 2030. bakery art is so realistic, literally anything could be cake. the uncertainty has gripped the world in fear. i go to hug my wife for comfort. she is cake.

morgause: i sob in despair as i eat my cake wife. she is delicious

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gwen: do ladies love stupid men or do they just love men who don’t exhaust every opportunity to feel smart

gwen: “i used to think that melancholy was a vegetable” that’s incredible, let’s hang out more

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morgause: basically i accidentally listened to a song a few years ago and it led to this

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morgana: *desperately tries to romanticise her homework*

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uther: do i have to be pretty? is it not enough to simply be the loudest person in the room with the worst opinions

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morgana: oh i can’t possibly study, i have allotted the next six hours to yearning vaguely

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morgause: allow me to de-introduce myself

morgause: my name is [redacted]

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arthur: i have no good posts today i’m sorry guys

merlin: haha “today”

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mordred: “do we perhaps use magic because we were bullied and needed blah blah special interest blah blah” shut the FUCK up i use magic to see my anime husband’s big fucking honkers. sorry you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: i came here to bully people

mordred: is it because you got pantsed in front of your crush

morgana: no it’s because i’m deranged

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mithian: pretty sure seven deadly sins is a bit excessive

mithian: just combine wrath and gluttony and make hangry

mithian: sloth and pride make Bottoming

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morgana: despicable me ruined the word minion whenever i become a supervillain i’m just going to have to call them my homies or whatever

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gwen: as a bisexual i am attracted to lanky boys with dark hair, girls who look like they could kill me, and anyone wearing vampire teeth

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morgana: if someone tried to assassinate me that would make me feel so important and valued and beloved

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gwaine: turn down for whom?

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mithian: fact: usage of the word “the” has begun to decline. this is because as more and more people become educated, usage of the word “thoum’st” has become more common.

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morgana, kidnapping mithian in 5x04: truth or dare? uhhh i dare you to………………………………..fall in love with me. haha i’m just joking bro………………..unless…………………………?

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gwaine: my thoughts are like a clearance sale

gwaine: once it’s gone it’s gone

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morgana: *pronounces “hors d’oeuvres” as “horse divorce” specifically to piss off morgause*

.

gwaine: do you prefer women or men?

leon: death

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morgause: honestly no offense but i love falling asleep and sleeping. it’s like. ok goodnight

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morgause: ngl it’s kinda difficult to be the moody and mysterious background character in everyone’s life when you’re quarantined at home

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morgause: i need to get laid

morgause: --to rest. put me in a coffin, let my soul ascend

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gwaine: it takes a lot of heart to be this stupid

gwaine: it takes real strength not to know shit about fuck

.

elyan: what’s your favorite anime?

leon: i’m a christian

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arthur: just bought this tapeworm from etsy!

lancelot: where are you gonna keep it

arthur: :)

merlin: i don’t like this conversion very much

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gwaine: i’m home alone with the tv repair man

gwaine: i’m no fool, there are only two possible outcomes of this scenario

gwaine: porn or murder

gwaine, an hour later: apparently there was an unforeseen third outcome where he fixes the tv and then leaves

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morgause: well tomorrow fucking sucked

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morgana: dark brunch

morgana: *mixes a mimosa with evil intent*

morgause: this is just what being gay is like

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gwaine: movie idea: guy finds a stone tablet engraved with a mysterious alien language and gets caught up in a national treasure-esque adventure to decipher its meaning, only to learn that it’s just an alien “live laugh love” decoration

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arthur: sorry i didn’t mean to open your ig story 20 seconds after you posted i’m just unemployed

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arthur: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgana: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

OR

cenred: why do you say men are objects? that’s not true and hurtful

morgause: men are on sale at the grocery store for a few dollars

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morgana: wow would you look at that. it’s already that time of the night where i move the stuff on my bed to my chair. can’t wait until tomorrow when i move the stuff from my chair back onto my bed

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gwaine: hi i’m bethany with girl defined ministry and today we are going to be talking about how to stan my chemical romance in a God-honoring way

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morgana: bottom: ,,, !!! ;;; vers: …. top: no punctuation whatsoever

morgause: tops are illiterate

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morgause: i slept for almost 12 hours but i might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

morgana: morgause that’s a coma

morgause: sounds festive

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mithian: i am a simple woman. i enter the kitchen. i eat four servings of bread products. i leave.

gwaine: it’s one serving if you serve all of it to yourself

mithian: i like the way you think, friend

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gwaine: spencer from icarly and rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid are on the opposite ends of the same spectrum

elyan: the gay older brother scale

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merlin: i found a rock :)

merlin: my troubles will soon be over

gwaine: parasite (2019) dir. bong joon ho

percival: uncut gems (2019) dir. josh and benny safdie

elyan: cain

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morgana: social distancing is okay for me bc i’ve been touch starved since the 15th century. i’m used to it

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mithian: fanfiction hits different when you’re gay and yearning and haven’t experienced an ounce of romance in your life

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morgause: callout for rude baby seen at grocery store

morgause: i’m calling out a baby (approximately 12-14 months old) from the grocery store due to its rudeness. i’m guessing its age based on appearance, motor skills (atrocious) and whatnot. anyway, i smiled at this baby and it just stared at me. as soon as i began to move on, though, the baby said “no!” and started giggling when i turned back around. this happened multiple times. the baby’s actions were toxic and manipulative. the baby was also manhandling a package of dried fruit which wasn’t yet paid for (quite minor) and was just generally sitting around and not helping

.

gwen: we need to melt down all the pennies and make the statue of liberty a girlfriend

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morgause: had a realization in a dream i just had that this isn’t real and i can just do whatever i want and so i started shrinking the face of this guy that was talking to me and then once it got real small i woke up sleep paralyzed

morgause: i was given godlike powers over the universe by realizing it’s all in my head and the first thing i did was use them to torment the nearest man

morgause: and the actual God woke me up and put be into a 5 minute timeout to lay frozen and think about what i’ve done

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morgana: does anyone else feel an awkward tension whenever you see another person your age in the grocery store

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gwaine: the number 87 kinda looks like a plague doctor

percival: you’ve just changed the fucking game

elyan: [|87

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morgana: a lonely bitch...a loner...i love isolation AND detachment

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gwaine: i will not call the judges “your honor”. in america we don’t have titles of nobility. they will get a simple “yes dude” from me

gwaine: calling big bird just “bird” because i do not respect him

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morgause: *photo of a pizza in a bad* caught the bae sleepin

mordred: now why would you waste a perfectly good pizza :(

morgause: that “waste” happens to be my wife getting her beauty sleep. think before you speak

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gwaine: *finishes wedding vows* don’t forget to like and subscribe

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morgana: *is bitter but is also right*

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morgana: how dare you not notice me when i’m ignoring you

.

morgause, killing cenred: men be like i’m bilingual i speak english and over women

.

gwaine: after i move i really wanna get a used roomba

percival: i love that you’re adopting instead of buying from a breeder

.

mordred: joking about a kink is a gateway drug into developing said kink

morgana: my kink is mental, emotional, and financial stability

morgause: unrealistic, settle for choking like normal people

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gaius: gay people use halloween props as home decor year round

morgana: shut up shut up this black jar with a raven painted on it is holiday-neutral

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[texting]

morgause: can you come out?

morgana: yeah gimme a minute

morgana: morgause, i’m gay

morgause: i know that. come out to the car

morgana: car, i’m gay

.

morgause: God FUCKING damnit i’m such a hopeless romantic one day someone’s gonna say “i love you” and i’m just going to let out an agonized scream so horrible that they immediately change their mind

.

gaius: i’m not wearing glasses anymore i’ve seen enough

.

morgause: sorry my battery’s on 96% i gtg

.

morgause: you hate me? wow you think you’re hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so you can go grab a number and wait your turn

.

morgana: don’t ignore me ?? i despise being ignored ?? i mean i’m ignoring like 8 people right now but still ???

.

morgana: shoutout to my favorite coping mechanism, isolation

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morgana: the concept of physical beauty is a scam unless you’re calling me cute in which case it is valid, actually

.

merlin: oh, so when other people go outside it’s “good for their health” and “highly recommended”, it’s only when i do it that it’s a “containment breach” and a “high-level threat to public safety and security”, huh?

.

gwaine: a charming photo of young john mulaney, seemingly celebrating the kennedy assassination

merlin: princess diana wasn’t john mulaney’s first kill

.

morgause: hate when i got out in public and the public is there

morgana: it seems the public is no longer in the public

morgause: i’ve won...but at what cost?

.

morgana: girls will see a chance to commit arson and be like “sorry, i have to take this”

morgause: girls will see a building that’s not on fire and say “is anyone gonna burn that” and not wait for an answer

[dorovahkiin]

SnK Theory (MANGA SPOILERS): Why I believe Historia’s pregnancy is fake.

Some time ago, I read this theory on Reddit that Historia’s pregnancy is fake. I thought it was an interesting idea, but the user didn’t elaborate that much, so I perceived it lacked evidence. However, I kept the idea in mind. Over the next chapters (and especially since the newest chapters so SPOILER ALERT) we actually did get subtle evidence that Historia’s pregnancy could be fake. At least that’s what I believe. Since I haven’t seen any decent explanation of the theory on the internet, I decided to do it myself. It will be very long, so grab a cup of tea Levi has just prepared for you and enjoy :)

© to the artist. I haven’t found an artist anywhere, so if this is your pic and you want it to be removed or given credit please tell me

And again, this will contain manga SPOILERS up to chapter 125.

You have been warned.

Before we actually start with the theory, we first need to summarize Zeke’s “secret plan” again. Just as reminder. Zeke’s secret plan was the following:

Rumble the world as deterrent in order to protect Paradis for the next 50 years

Raise the military strength to a global level in this time until rumbling is no longer needed

Chapter 107

…And finally….

In order to maintain the rumbling a founding Titan and a Titan with royal blood is always required. Since titan shifters die after 13 years, you'll need several candidates of royal blood. Passing the titan-power down from generation to generation. Since there are only two persons of royal blood left alive (as far as we know), who are Zeke and Historia, they'd need to reproduce in order to make the plan happen.

Chapter 107

Chapter 107

…When reading this the first time, I already thought that something was wrong…

This plan is way too risky, has too many incalculable factors and too many holes. But that’s another topic. Anyways, in the latest chapters it turned out that Zeke was fooling everyone and hid his true intentions:

He wanted to use the founding titan in order to make contact with Ymir. Then he wanted to command her to take away the Eldian’s ability to reproduce. Just in a matter of decades, the Eldian race would extinct without any more casualties and the world would be at peace (until new conflicts arise e.g. nuclear weapons lol). I guess the reason for not telling the truth was because the Eldians would have never agreed to that. Maybe there were more reasons, but that’s what came into my mind.

Chapter 122

Anyways, Zeke did not tell his true intentions. He made up this fake plan to get to Paradis and to manipulate and deceive everyone so he could get in contact with the founding Titan (Eren) in order to make his true plan come to reality.

Back to chapter 107. When Hanji reacts to Zeke’s fake plan, she seems to be conflicted and not happy about it. She doesn’t like the imagination of enslaving Historia (or anyone) into a breeding machine because of her royal blood only to be eaten soon. Again and again.

(Side note: Why the fuck does Historia have to reproduce and not Zeke? Because Historia offered it first or what? In Zeke’s remaining year he is able to reproduce more than Historia in a lifetime. Histora can only bear once a year whereas Zeke could father hundreds of children a year. Why didn’t anyone consider this in the assembly?!)

…Hanji’s reaction to Zeke’s fake plan is the following:

“Will it really end in 50 years…?

No matter what else might be developed, the earth-shaking is an immensely powerful weapon…

If we must depend on it, the danger of assassination would follow these heirs to the royal family down through the generations…

From parent to child, just like the Reiss family…

Again…

…And again…

…Does that mean we should leave our children in a lose-lose situation?

Just because it saves us now…

Of course not. There’s no way this could be allowed. And yet.”

Chapter 107

I guess Hanji wanted to say something like: “And yet what other options do we have?” or something like that.

However, this tells us that Hanji has:

Doubts about Zeke’s plan (probably doesn’t trust him anyways)

Doesn’t like the idea of using anyone as breeding machine, feeding people to titans regularly and putting future generations in danger

But she also doesn’t know any alternative at this point. So what options does she have?

Either accept the plan or reject the plan. If she wants to keep the allies (and she has to keep them because otherwise they are screwed at that point), she has to agree to that plan. In other words she cannot openly reject it because otherwise they will lose the allies. She has to play along. On the other hand, she doesn’t like and trust the plan for the reasons above. Therefore both options are a choose between the devil and the deep blue sea and Hanji knows that. Especially because the allies want an answer immediately because Zeke doesn’t have much time left to live.

HOWEVER. There is a third option nobody mentions: Gaining more time in order to think about new ideas to solve this madness by BLUFFING. To be more clear: Historia has to pretend to be pregnant. Fake pregnancy.

By doing so you would not only save Histora from turning into a breeding machine, but the allies would also keep being allies and think everything is fine. At least for some time. And Hanji needs the time to come up with a better plan.

Maybe you remember, but Eren initially said that he doesn’t like Zeke’s plan and they should instead think of other options and Hanji kinda agreed as she later states “We haven’t found another way out yet”:

Chapter 107

(Sidenote: It’s interesting because what Eren says now is quite the opposite of what he said in those panel about NOT destroying the world. I guess he changes his mind? lol)

Furthermore a (fake) pregnancy would save Historia from turning into a titan (at least for nine months, but that’s buying time again). If you remember right other people wanted Historia to eat Zeke once he’d come to Paradis. A (fake) pregnancy would hinder this because it’s too dangerous and there are too many unknown factors:

This is all from chapter 108

So now you might think: How is Historia able to fake pregnancy?

…Well that’s actually not as hard as you think if you plan it thoroughly:

Pregnancy suit. You don’t need ultra technology to tailor one.

Hanji is not only a skilled scientist, but also clever as fuck, in fact the most intelligent character in the series with Zeke. If you look at her statistics you’ll see that her Wits scores 10/10 and her Intelligence scores 11(!)/10.

I got this from Hanji’s Wiki article. You can also check the guidebook if you have it

…If anyone is able to fake Historia’s pregnancy it’s Hanji. In the past we’ve seen how many times her intelligence saved the Survey Corps’ and humanity’s ass. She’s not the new Survey Corps’ commander for nothing. She has bluffed and gambled a lot of times. Faking this pregnancy suits her past tactics.

Furthermore, in my opinion Hanji acted way too average so far. She didn’t really have any moments to shine and to prove how smart she truly is. Because there is more behind what we have seen so far.

To make fake pregnancy successful, you'll need friends who help you. People you can trust obviously. Because otherwise it won't be easy to keep the farce for a long time. So who could be those people? I think next to Historia and Hanji there are at least three more people who are in on the secret. But before we'll take a look at those three persons in detail, we'll shift our look to the “at least” part:

Historia is a popular Queen and loved by the civilians. She saved Paradis from the Rod Reiss titan and she is of royal blood. There are probably a few of those civilians Historia trusts. For example a maid, a tailor, a doctor or a farmer. This would be helpful to fake the pregnancy.

(Sidenote: I don’t believe that Yelena would be THAT strict and want to see Historia’s naked belly. As proof. Not only because it’s disrespectful, but also because there’s no reason. Yelena wants Zeke to live as long as possible, so the pregnancy suits her plans well. And even if it’s fake it wouldn’t make a difference because a fake pregnancy would still mean that Zeke would live longer. So I guess she doesn’t really care because either option doesn’t destroy her goals. Furthermore, wanting to see Historia’s belly would imply Yelena doesn’t respect and trust her allies and that would deceive her appearances.)

I wondered if anyone of the 104th training corps would know about the fake pregnancy since they are close to Hanji and Historia, but I think they rather don’t (except for one person I will mention later). I mean it would not surprise me if they knew, but there is simply no reason for them to know because there is no advantage to it. And the more confidants you have the harder it is to keep a secret an actual secret.

Now, let’s move on to the three persons I believe are not only confidants, but also took a big part in plotting this farce:

Farmer-kun

Eren Jäger

Levi Ackermann

Let me explain.

1. Farmer-kun

So, the official version is that Farmer-kun is the father of Historia’s baby and her partner. When Nile and the MP dudes talk about it, they seem to assume that Farmer-kun and Historia are a romantic couple that didn’t get married for some reasons (this is already suspicious).

This is both from chapter 108

A lot of fans already do agree that Farmer-kun is not the father. It’s mainly the EreHisu shippers, but they do have a point here. Why would Historia choose this random guy as her partner and as the father of her child? It just seems too suspicious and too random for us readers, different from what we are used to regarding Isayama’s writing. We have to look at the big picture: What is Historia’s purpose in the story? Giving birth to a child she had with a random nobody no one cares about and keep being used as a political tool until the end?

That would be disappointing, especially because she had awesome development in the past (for example in the uprising arc).

I believe Isayama wants to fool us here.

Furthermore, it seems like Historia doesn’t even like this guy. Notice her face when she is around him. That’s not how you look at someone you love. She looks depressed and annoyed (I guess because she feels like a slave):

Chapter 108 and 107

I find this is veeery fishy. Let me present you an alternative that matches with the fake pregnancy theory. Look what Nile says in the picture above:

“He’s (Farmer-kun) been checked out. We know he’s no one’s pawn". Whereas Farmer-kun seems to be suspicious for us readers, he is not suspicious for the citizens or military. A random nobody without any reputation, influence or money. No one cares about him, no one knows him. Since he is a simple farmer and not a nobleman or military guy, he is neutral and not indebted to any important institution (“He is no one’s pawn”). There is nothing he can offer Historia (other than love), therefore no higher institution can manipulate Historia through him. I believe that is what Nile meant when he said “He is no one’s pawn”. This being said, for them Farmer-kun is not suspicious or dangerous at all. This would also mean they wouldn’t observe him that thoroughly as if he were a man of higher status. They probably rather believe she chose him because of love which they find naive, but accept it.

Because of those reasons, Farmer-kun is the perfect candidate as cover-up fake father for a fake pregnancy. I believe he is an active part of the conspiracy.

Why helping her?

It is stated above that he used to throw rocks at her when they were children. And now he feels guilty about it, thus he works at her orphanage. Maybe he even has a crush on her. And she saved him and everyone else from that Rod Reiss titan and became his Queen. In this case it makes sense why he would help. He is indebted to Historia and that’s why she can trust him that he will play along.

Chapter 107

…I believe that his statement: “You need to take better care of yourself” is just another phrase that is supposed to fool us. At first sight you might think okay, he says this because she is pregnant and he wants her to take care of herself and the baby. But I think at this moment, the phrase doesn’t make any sense if you understand it that way. It would make sense if Historia just did something dangerous that could harm the baby and herself, for example drinking or doing heavy physical work. But she is just sitting outside literally doing nothing. It’s not harmful at all. So why would he say this in a moment like that? Out of nowhere?!

Consider another point of view: She is sitting outside. People can spot and observe her easily. If she doesn’t pay attention for a moment, she could do something stupid that reveals that her pregnancy is fake and if anyone is watching she has a problem. So I believe by that phrase Farmer-kun meant that she shouldn’t do anything suspicious and therefore take care.

That’s also why he wants her to come in. Because then nobody could observe and approach her easily.

…Now, let’s move on to the next person I believe is a confidant:

2) Eren Jäger

I already inclined Eren as confidant before, but let’s go more into detail.

The first argument why Eren is a confidant is an easy one: He knows the future through the power of the attack titan, therefore it’s inevitable that he might know anyways. We learned this in chapter 121 (that was a real wtf moment for me by the way):

Chapter 121

Now the question is: If he knew about a fake pregnancy anyways, why would he play along with it?

Eren might be a bit crazy right now and the fandom is arguing about his actions at the moment, but it’s fact that he cares for Historia. In chapter 106 Eren revealed that he can control Titans by touching a Titan with royal blood, which he experienced by touching Dina Fritz. When Levi asked why Eren hid this important fact, Eren replied that he did it because he wanted to protect Historia. His theory was only an assumption anyways. Eren hates the thought of Historia becoming a titan. And I strongly believe he would also hate it if she is being used as breeding machine (just like Hanji’s opinion). That would enslave her. And there is nothing Eren hates more than being enslaved.

Chapter 106

Furthermore, since we now know Eren’s true intentions (revealed in chapter 123), it should be clear that Eren wasn’t planning on playing along with Zeke’s plan anyways. Neither Zeke’s fake plan, nor Zeke’s real plan.

Chapter 123

Eren’s true intention is it to destroy the outside world in order to protect his people and his home. We’ll not discuss about this intention itself, that would be another subject.

Since chapter 125 we know that Eren’s true plan was not spontaneous, but long planned out. Floch confirms that and even reveals Eren told him about his true plan 10 months(!) ago.

Chapter 125

Because Eren was never willing to conduct any of Zeke’s plans anyways, he knew it would also be useless to force Historia into pregnancy. For is own objection Historia being pregnant wouldn’t do anything (Imo the Ymir reincarnation theory doesn't make sense). A fake pregnancy would be much more convenient:

By this the allies would be content but deceived and Historia is protected. Again a reminder: I believe Eren truly cares for Historia. Not in a romantic way (though this is up to interpretation), but as a friend.

Anyways. In order to make Eren’s true plan happening, Eren had to fool both Zeke and his friends. He couldn’t reveal his true intentions. Both Zeke and Eren’s friends wouldn’t second this plan for obvious reasons. Since he told Floch (and maybe some other Jägerists?) though, Floch also could have known about the fake pregnancy and supported it to deceive the allies. So in order to get Ymir’s power to destroy the world Eren had to betray everyone (besides fucking Floch). This having in mind is important for my next point.

Look at this scene (I cut it down to the most important bits):

This is all from chapter 107

…This happens after the rumbling in Marley and Hanji is disappointed by Eren, who acted on his own. Again, Eren did this in order to fulfill his own secret intention he told no one about for the reasons I stated above.

(Sidenote: The last picture his interesting. You see Eren’s desperation. I think he wanted to avoid his final objective, but didn’t see any other way at this point anymore. He is very conflicted and shows that to Hanji. Since Hanji doesn’t understand him and doesn’t trust him any longer, she thinks he is a bit crazy in my opinion.)

As Hanji points out, through his rushed actions Eren put both Paradis and Historia in trouble. Why? I believe we don’t have proper explanation, so this is my own interpretation: The Survey Corps’ main point of attacking Liberio was - next to taking Eren and Zeke with them - to destroy Marley’s naval fleet since Marley kept sending military ships to Paradis. Eren however took it too far. He not only wanted to get the Warhammer Titan in addition, but he also wanted to demonstrate strength to deliver the message: “See what happens if you mess up with me, so fuck you and beware”. He started his attack at the peak of Willy’s speech, so choosing this exact instant of time which would create the most drama confirms that the demonstration/propaganda of power was a crucial part of Eren’s intention. By this he killed a lot of civilians. People like Floch don’t care about this, but people like Hanji, Levi or Jean were clearly against it, which would also mean they didn’t like the idea of rumbling the shit out of the world in the first place just like Zeke’s fake plan suggested.

Furthermore, through Eren’s brutal strategy, the world had now another huge and illustrated reason to be afraid of the Eldians of Paradis. Important people of the whole world were present after all. This fear leads to hate, and this hate leads to the decision to fight against Paradis more than ever in order to get rid of the threat. So in short words, even if a country was still conflicted about Paradis, Eren’s action helped them to decide to fight Paradis as they witnessed Eren’s brutality at first hand. But the consequence of this is that not only Marley but also the rest of the world would take actions against Paradis earlier than initially planned. That’s why it stole Paradis precious time to think of other ways. Ways to not only end the whole conflict, but also to protect Historia from Zeke’s shitty secret fake plan. The fake pregnancy is only a temporary solution you cannot maintain forever after all. This scene shows that they haven’t found another solution yet (besides Eren and his genocide plan lol), and you can feel the pressure and the desperation.

Hanji reproaching: “I always knew that you wouldn’t sacrifice Historia” and “Do you not care about what happens to Historia now?” shows us that:

Hanji cares about Historia and wants to protect her

Eren cares about Historia (or at least he did in the past, but I believe he still does. He also evades Hanji’s question which confirms that thought)

Eren and Hanji must have discussed about Historia’s fate in the past. I believe they came up with the idea of faking the pregnancy as temporary solution to protect her, but since time is running out now they have a problem and haven’t come up with another way to protect Historia in the long term yet (at least Hanji doesn’t). This scene illustrates that conflict pretty well.

Before we’ll finally move on to the third confidant, let me just shortly summarize why I believe Eren is not the father if the pregnancy were real. I know a lot of fans believe in that theory. It is actually not THAT far-fetched, but it has too many holes. These are the most important holes in my opinion:

Eren has only a few more years left to live. Historia can only bear a child once a year and according to Zeke’s plan she has to bear as many children as possible. Why choosing a titan shifter as dad who dies soon? That means Historia needed another partner for making children with once Eren died in the near future. I don’t see the advantage for having several men as dads. It’s rather annoying, especially for Historia.

When Historia is “pregnant”, Eren is already in Marley. When was he supposed to impregnate her? How when he was in Marley? Did he swim back to Paradis only to father a child or what?! Check chapter 123 again. Some people believe that he could have done it before he went to Marley in the first place, but I do not believe this because in 123 Eren didn't seem to care about Hisu romance at all

Eren was the first person who wanted to protect Historia from becoming a titan and a breeding machine. Furthermore, he doesn’t want to follow Zeke’s plan anyways. Then why should he be the first idiot who wanted to impregnate her? He is not the type of man who wants to have an excuse to hit. That’s not what Eren is like.

And that is my personal interpretation: In my opinion Eren and Historia never showed any romantic feelings/interactions towards each other. People can have a strong emotional bond without wanting to bang each other! We did have evidence they care for each other, but there was not one singe romantic evidence. And if it happened off screen then it would be really meh imo. When it comes to the final panel I think the man is Grisha. Furthermore, Eren has other problems to deal with right now. Starting a relationship and becoming a dad wouldn’t be a good timing at all. I think that’s why he doesn’t have the desire for it at the moment either. But again, this is only my own interpretation.

People think Eren is the father because they reckon he is the hooded figure in that one scene. There is a good chance the hooded figure is Eren, but there are more candidates imo (and why would that be a proof of him being the father anyways?!)

Don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about this important scene.

It will be discussed very soon.

…This chapter is done. Let’s move on to the third confidant:

3) Levi Ackermann

According to my theory, Hanji is the main actor and plotter. Nothing against Historia, but I believe Historia is not smart enough to fake pregnancy all by herself (she is a great actress though).

Anyway, what does Levi have to do with all of this? Well, A LOT.

Levi and Hanji are very close comrades. They are not only great friends, but have proven to be a perfect team in the past when it came to plotting (for example in the uprising arc). They rant at each other all the time, but when it comes to serious matters, they always act in concert. They know each other horrifyingly well and trust each other. I mean look, they are even able to read each other’s mind :D

Chapter 106

This is one reason why I believe Levi took part in that. Hanji wouldn’t have done this without at least talking to Levi about it. But that’s not enough evidence. Levi is not Hanji’s puppy, but a human being with his own opinions. So let’s go deeper…

We already talked about the flashback in chapter 106 where Eren reveals that he can control Titans by touching a Titan with royal blood, which he experienced by touching Dina Fritz. We already discussed Eren’s role in this.

Now, let’s focus on Levi in this scene of chapter 106:

Chapter 106

…Levi is pissed that Eren withheld this important information. When Eren reveals his reason Levi simply replies: “We’ll talk about THAT later”.

This happened before the time skip, but we NEVER saw this “We’ll talk about THAT later” conversation between Levi and Eren. Did Isayama not include that scene because he thought it was irrelevant?

Absolutely not. We were just not supposed to know yet. Also, in my opinion Levi and Eren had very little screen-time together since chapter 91. Suspiciously little. I believe we’ll see those scenes soon though. Again, we were just not supposed to see these yet.

Now the question is, would Levi agree to the plan of faking Historia’s pregnancy?

We don’t have proof yet and this is only my own interpretation, but I believe yes, absolutely:

If you really know Levi, you also know that deep inside he is not that bitchy cold ass he seems to be on the outside. He is a selfless person with a big heart who hates casualties. He is a man who deeply cares for individuals.

His relationship with Historia might be a bit strained due to past incidents, but I still believe that he truly cares for her (not shipping here, just to be clear !!!).

Remember when Historia established the orphanage? Levi was helping her a lot with it:

Chapter 70

…I believe he wants to avoid that Historia becomes a breeding machine or turn into a titan. Because he cares for her personally.

HOWEVER… Levi’s biggest goal is it to save humanity and he puts that goal above individual sacrifices. He hates it like nobody else, but that is still what he thinks is the right way. For example when he asked Historia to become Queen. He thought it was the right way, even if he treated her very harshly. For the sake of humanity. Because he didn’t see any other way and because it was Erwin’s idea in the first place. And Levi trusts Erwin. So I believe even if Levi would hate it and even if he cares for Historia, he would still be agreeing to the plan of her turning into a titan and becoming a breeding machine. BUT ONLY if he absolutely didn’t see any other way and if Historia did it by free will. And that’s the point. Faking the pregnancy is a temporary solution and a gamble that gives some time to think about new ways. And gambling is the Survey Corps’ way.

…But the even bigger point is that this is Zeke’s plan we’re talking about in the first place…

We have seen Hanji’s reaction to Zeke’s “secret plan” and her being conflicted about it, but we haven’t seen Levi’s thoughts. Even if he is not as smart as Hanji, I’m sure even he was conflicted about the plan and saw the holes. Furthermore, Levi HATES Zeke. He wants to kill him. Zeke is the last person Levi would trust. I mean if this “secret plan” were Erwin’s idea, things would have been different.

But it’s fucking Zeke Jäger.

I’m sure Hanji talked to Levi about her concerns. So even if Levi didn’t have any doubts in the first place (I believe he did though), Hanji would have told him. And Levi trusts Hanji. As I said before, they are a dream-team. That’s why I believe he agreed to that farce. Also as far as I remember, we didn’t have many (or even any?) scenes with Levi and Hanji discussing anything alone since chapter 91. This is suspicious in my opinion. Moreover, there is a reason why Isayama removed Hanji and Levi from the plot since chapter 115. I don’t believe they are dead by the way. At the moment we are just hoping for them to be alive, but we totally forget that they could have been involved in some big act. Our worries for them distract this important fact.

(125 UPDATE: My babies are alive I’m so fucking happy!)

Onto the next point. There is a good chance the hooded figure is Eren, but I believe the hooded figure is either Hanji Levi, though I tend more to Levi.

Let’s have a look:

Chapter 108

…Most people say this is Eren because of the jacket, but it’s not the same jacket. Eren’s jacket is way darker and fully inked, this is not. (Check it yourself by looking at the one Eren pic above). Actually, the jacket doesn’t say anything. If the person is hooded, he or she doesn’t want to be identified that easily. Furthermore, it is obvious that this person plays an important role and that Isayama is hiding something from us. The jacket itself is not important though. It’s just a random and ordinary jacket you can get anywhere in order to hide your identity. Of course the person wouldn’t appear in the clothes we know him or her. That would spoil everything for us. Moreover look, a lot of people have a jacket that looks similar, not only Eren does:

Chapter 53

…So the jacket itself doesn’t reveal anything…

Then who is the hooded figure? Now since I believe Levi is plotting with Hanji they were the ones who advised Historia and one of them is the hooded figure. If it were Eren, why would he visit Hisu being hooded since he visited her in his casual clothes many times before? We know they regularly meet and touch to trigger memories as Jean confirms it in chapter 70:

Chapter 70

 Levi and Hanji however are high ranked individuals who are not that close to Hisu, so it makes more sense to hide their identity. Nobody is suspicous when Eren visits Hisu since they are friends, Hanji and Levi on the other side...

I tend to think the hooded figure is Levi because the person looks small and second…

…Notice the hands. They’re inside the pockets. Levi is a person who puts his hands inside his pockets A LOT. More than any other character. Just observe a few pictures of him and you’ll see. If you’re too lazy to research yourself, I provided a few examples for you:

…There you have it…

I wouldn’t be surprised if Isayama put this little hint in here, since he always likes to put little hints every now and then.

The MPs and some others believe it’s Yelena, but I think that’s not true. If it were her, Isayama wouldn’t have presented us the right answer right away. And she is too tall. So nahh.

Chapter 108

Remember what the MPs said about the hooded figure:

“Someone must have informed the Queen. They told her the corps wanted to feed Zeke to her as soon as they could. But if she got pregnant, she wouldn’t have to become a titan until after she gave birth. Someone gave her that advice”

This implies that the hooded figure knew what the corps wanted early on and Levi is one of them, so he knew. But I believe just as Hanji and Eren he secretly didn’t agree forcing Historia to eat Zeke straight away (instead faking pregnancy to buy more time to think of other solutions), because he cares for Historia and prefers to leave the choice to her. The next scene proves that:

Chapter 112

Since to Levi Zeke is more suspicious than ever in this situation, Levi decides that it’s inevitable to get rid of him and to feed him now. But instead of insisting Historia to eat him instantly, Levi suggests a Jägerist to take on the temporary role. Because he wants to protect Historia and doesn’t want to put her in danger if it’s avoidable.

Also, him saying: “Then, if Historia’s prepared like she says she is, we’ll feed the titan to her next” implies that he is not pushing Historia, but instead leaves the final choice to her. This also matches with the advice of the hooded figure to wait until “birth”.

Furthermore this explains Historia’s gloomy mood because she knows that a horrible fate awaits her (and she is ready to take it) if they can’t think of another option very soon.

I know Levi says: “Once she gives birth in a few months” implying she is actually pregnant, but of course he can’t tell them that it’s fake therefore he’s lying.

…So what do you do after nine months when you’re faking pregnancy, but there is no child? That’s not that hard. A miscarriage or a dead born baby happens occasionally. It wouldn’t be suspicious to state that as excuse when no child exists. If you do it in a clever way, it’s not a problem.

The real problem is what to do afterwards if you don’t have a new plan? I mean that’s the situation right now, they haven’t come up with anything yet…

But since we now know that Zeke’s secret plan was fake all the way, the whole thing doesn’t make any sense anymore anyways. Besides, Eren revealed his true intention in chapter 123, everything has changed since then.

It will influence a lot of story-lines. I cannot wait to read what happens next.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS LOOOOOONG ANALYSYS! ♥

I am aware that I still might be wrong because I cannot read Isayama’s mind and there is a lot of my own interpretation, but with this theory I just want to provide a different idea :)

Have a nice day and never forget to SHINZOU WO SASAGEYO!!!!

[a-student-out-of-time]

How much did you tell Chiaki? Did you tell her about class 77-B's fate, the future foundation, or the killing school life?

So...what exactly is the Tragedy? What happens at Hope’s Peak? 

You might wanna sit down for this one.

_______________________________________________________

“A lot of things happened leading up to it, one of them being the deaths of Natsumi and Honami. From there, a lot of the wrong people ended up in the wrong places at the wrong times.”

“That includes me. That project the Steering Committee tried to get me to agree to? It would’ve turned me into what they thought would be the Ultimate Hope for mankind, dumping every talent imaginable into my head. Instead, it turned me into a man with everything human removed: emotions, thoughts, feelings, hobbies, and memories. All that was left was Kamukura Izuru.”

“But that’s not the worst part.”

“The one behind this whole thing? The one who took advantage of all this chaos? She’ll be a member of Class 78 next year.”

“Enoshima Junko, the Ultimate Despair.”

Chiaki: Ultimate Despair?

“She might seem like this friendly, charismatic fashion icon, but she’s really a lunatic who gets off on causing pain and misery, even to herself. She’s chronically bored and starts chaos just to make her life interesting. That’s why she decided to end the world.”

Chiaki: She was bored? That’s...that’s it?

“She also wanted to show the world how despair is this all-consuming, chaotic force that...I don’t know. I can still barely understand what her motives are, if she has any. What matters is, she starts the whole thing with help from her sister, Ikusaba Mukuro.”

Chiaki: Just the two of them?

“Well...no. They had help. They got the secrets about what was happening behind the scenes at the school out to the public, which started a huge demonstration from the Reserve Course. They went around secretly killing people, and also...found some allies.”

Chiaki: Who...?

“Us.”

“She brainwashed us, twisted us, made us into her personal cult utterly devoted to her and her beliefs. Causing despair, chaos, death, destruction, and every crime you can possibly imagine. We did it all to our friends, our families, even to ourselves. Thanks to us, the Tragedy wasn’t just contained to Hope’s Peak.”

“It spread outside the school’s walls, turning into a huge societal phenomenon, with people everywhere protesting against the wealthy and talented. It spread across the media, the internet, everything. All people across all races and all cultures were affected. Soon, it degenerated into a massive orgy of violence and anarchy. Terrorism, coups, and wars were happening all the time just for the sake of causing despair.”

“But even Enoshima felt it wasn’t enough.”

Chiaki: What do you mean?

“She went after her classmates next.”

“See, the rest of Class 78 survived by turning the Hope’s Peak main building into a shelter. They were supposed to be safe there, but the Despair Sisters were already there. After stealing everyone’s memories through advanced neuroscience and broadcasting the whole thing on international TV, they started the Killing Game. That was their plan to crush any hope left in the world by showing the Ultimates killing each-other.”

“But they managed to turn things on their head. A lot of them died, but the last six managed to beat her and Enoshima was executed. Seeing her die and the six of them escape revitalized a lot of hope in the world, but we were still out there, causing despair in her name.”

“That’s when a new organization showed up, made up of former Hope’s Peak staff, alumni, and the six survivors. They called themselves Future Foundation. Their goal was to stop the Tragedy and rebuild society. And after two years, they made their biggest step forward by capturing us. And the plan was to execute us, to finally put a stop to things.”

Chaiki: What?! What...what happened?

“Naegi, one of the survivors, decided we should have a second chance. So he and two of the others, Kirigiri and Togami, took us from Foundation custody and brought us to the old Jabberwock island resort. That’s where they set up the Neo World Program.”

“It was a virtual reality therapy system that was designed to erase our memories of our time at Hope‘s Peak. The idea was that, with those gone and replaced with pleasant ones from our time in the simulation- on a fake Jabberwock- maybe we‘d go back to our old selves. And it kinda worked.”

Chiaki: Kinda?

“Turns out our plan was to get captured. Izuru had an AI copy of Enoshima’s personality that he secretly uploaded into the program. And with that, rather than a therapy simulation, we were caught up in a Killing Game of our own.”

“We had no memory of what happened, just finding ourselves caught up in this mess. This game, though, was meant to be our final attempt at bringing her back. See, whoever died in the simulation would fall comatose in the real world. The system that was supposed to upload our minds back into our bodies was hijacked so the AI could instead upload itself into all their bodies.”

“By the end, only five of us were left. We could either upload ourselves into our own bodies and allow her to escape, stay in the simulation forever, or hit the shutdown button and go back to being Ultimate Despair with no idea what happened.”

Chiaki: That’s...a lot. What did you choose?

“I almost gave up. I couldn’t make a decision. But...you convinced me to.”

“You...you came to me, and gave me the motivation I needed to take a chance, to make my own future and not play by Enoshima’s game. It was a gamble, but it paid off. We hit the shutdown command and we ended up escaping the simulation with our memories from both lives intact. I was mostly myself, but Izuru was still living in my brain.”

Chiaki: What about everyone who died?

“All still comatose. We got to work trying to get you all back. Unfortunately, things weren’t over just yet.”

“Naegi was dragged to Future Foundation’s headquarters, where he was put on trial for treason. The heads from all Foundation branches were called in, and that’s when someone set off a trap. They were all pulled into a Final Killing Game.”

Chiaki: Another one? Was there a despair hiding there too?

“Yes...but they weren’t responsible.”

Chiaki:Who was then? Why another one?

“Director Tengan Kazuo. He set it up as a way to weed our dissent among the Foundation leaders. He’d gotten so sick and tired of their infighting and had lost hope that the Tragedy would ever end. So he decided the best choice was to kill off the worst elements and force the world into a new state of peace. That meant introducing a Hope Brainwashing Video to the world courtesy of Mitarai.”

Chiaki: Mitarai? He wasn’t a despair?

“Well...okay, long story short, the Mitarai in your class isn’t the same person. They’re the Ultimate Imposter, and a damn good friend. The real Mitarai was hiding away from everything and had joined up with the Foundation, but he‘d also lost hope that things could change.”

Chiaki: What happened then? Did he...?

“Nope. We got there in time. Things might’ve been bad over there, but we got everyone out of their comas, all back to normal, and managed to get on a boat and set off for their HQ. He’d brainwashed most of the people there, but we got through them without killing anybody and convinced Mitarai to stand down.”

“But we also to tell the world it was our fault. That we were the ones behind the events at Foundation HQ. And after that, we went into exile back at Jabberwock.”

Chiaki: Why though? We were all normal again, right?

“Yeah, but nobody else knew that. And we were the last big factor in everything. If the world thought we were out there and attacked Future Foundation, rather than their leaders being so dysfunctional that they killed each-other, it would get the rest of the organization and people out there to rally behind together. The world needed them. It needed to rebuild.”

“And thanks to Naegi and his friends, it did. And we all decided we‘d spend the rest of our lives together on those islands, living our lives how we‘d want to from now on.”

“Six months later, I laid down one day and woke up back in April 2012.”

_________________________________________________

And the rest is part of a new history.