#maybe I’ll write something about youth homelessness since that’s what my job is now

[sunsoak]

Can’t be a writer if you don’t write. Bitch. There’s only one requirement to being a writer and it’s writing. God damn

[m00nslippers]

In a dream world where we are getting a Red Hood live action trilogy, how would you want the three movies to be? Like what plotlines, characters, villians, what arc to develop, how to present his character to appeal to the general audience and such :D

Oh man, this is an interesting question.

Well first of all, this might sound strange, but I absolutely do not think that Under the Red Hood should be adapted to Live Action. I believe this because it already exists in animated form and is perfect. No live-action remake is going to compare unless they recreate it scene by scene and they never will. The dialogue is too good, it cannot be made better, only worse. So, that being said, RH1 should not be a retelling of UtRH, rather that movie/storyline should exist as backstory for the first Red Hood movie. They should communicate the events of that story without retelling it wholesale as the plot in the movie. They should also go ahead and go with the Lazarus Pit explanation of Jason’s resurrection because the superboy-smashing-the-universe thing is too vague and requires more context than a standalone movie can really provide. I would amend it though so that it’s actually more like Arkham Knight games, in that Joker had Jason for over six months torturing him before he finally killed Jason and sent the tape to Bruce. At that point, Ra’s and Talia got a hold of Jason’s body and resurrected him.

I have a really solid idea for the first movie, a more vague idea for the second one and a really vague idea for the last one. I’ll write you guys the synopsis of the first one up here.

Red Hood Movie 1

So, the movie opens on some brief scenes of a seemingly ordinary guy as he goes through his day. He wears blue collar clothes with a leather jacket thrown over the top, rides his motorcycle to work and stops to give money to a homeless guy on the street. He works construction or something, shows himself to be really smart and maybe a little over-competent for his job, he can jump down from high beams like he’s an acrobat, he does complex math in his head, but when colleagues ask how he knows so much he just plays it off. He seems friendly but he’s secretive, keeps to himself. He goes home from work, he’s the only one there, he works out, punches a punching bag, he checks a secret compartment in his house to make sure no one has tampered with it, but we don’t see what’s inside. He eats alone and when it gets dark he walks a ways to a local dive and sits in the corner until a red-headed friend comes in.

He and the friend bullshit together, clearly they’re close. His friend asks if he’ll babysit his daughter so he can work on a case, he says sure. They’re in the middle of talking about the daughter when something on one of the televisions playing in the bar catches his eye. It’s a breaking news feed of an Arkham breakout in Gotham City, with the building on fire, lead by the Joker. He flinches and you see this snarl of twisted fear and rage and his friend reaches out to grab his arm. “Jason, don’t. He doesn’t have to be your problem. You don’t owe Gotham anything.” And Jason looks Roy in the face and says, “Gotham owes me everything. And I’m going to get my payback.”

Jason leaves the bar, goes home, opens the secret compartment–it’s full of guns and all of his Red Hood gear. He packs it up and leaves on his motorcycle bound for Gotham.

Switch over to Bruce being Brucie at a WE function for a charity. He’s called up to give a speech and he talks about how his second son was a boy from Gotham’s streets who’d been exceptional but just didn’t have the opportunities because of his poor background. Unfortunately he was dead in a tragic accident, but Bruce had dedicated this charity in his name for underprivileged youth to fund scholarships and community support, etc. He steps down and has to glad-hand some people until his phone vibrates and he looks at the screen. It’s Oracle telling him there’s a Gotham break out.

Bruce slips away and he’s in the Batcave putting on his Batman gear as Alfred and Barbara–over the computer–fills him in on what’s going on and talks about how most everyone is out of Gotham at the moment, it’s just Bruce and Oracle, and asks Bruce if he wants Alfred to call in Nightwing or someone else for help. Bruce says no he wants them to stay out of it as he’s looking at the Memorial case of Jason’s Robin costume that’s still damaged. Alfred reminds him that since it’s the Joker, Jason is bound to appear, Bruce just grunts and says he’ll deal with that problem as it comes and has Oracle on the look out for any activity from either of them.

Bruce shows up at Arkham and talks to Gordon briefly, who tells him there’s a riot going on inside and they’ve already confirmed the warden had been murdered. Bruce busts in and starts kicking butt and capturing everyone, getting various people to safety that he finds as he makes his way through the building. All the while Oracle is giving him tech support. Bruce finds Joker’s cell but it’s been broken open. Suddenly he thinks he sees joker and and chases him down, capturing him but it turns out it’s just another inmate dressed like him–there’s a whole bunch of fake Jokers running around the building. Oracle tells him they’ll never be able to confirm if it’s really him from cameras alone like this and Bruce has to admit that’s true. But also says the Joker is probably already long gone, and they need to stop worrying about containment and start searching the city for him.

Cut to Jason riding into Gotham. He opens up a derelict safehouse with yet more guns and suits up and hits the streets. Everywhere he goes, he sees flashes of memories–of him as a kid on the streets, of Bruce catching him stealing the tires from the batmobile, him as Robin, him fighting Bruce as Red Hood. He questions homeless people and hookers and roughs up some dealers. They all know him, they’re all afraid, he’s the King of Crime Alley and remember when he ran out Black Mask. After some investigating, someone tells him a certain crime family’s men were hired to riot outside of Arkham and sow even more chaos.

Jason attacks the guy in his big mansion, mowing down hoards of mobsters with guns, all to get to the head guy and question him. He says Joker put out the word he wanted some grunts to help with the breakout and Black Mask had done a deal with him to provide men. The head mobster is Black mask’s man outside of Blackgate prison. The meeting was held in Gotham’s abandoned Amusement Mile between Joker and Roman’s proxies. Jason kills the mobster and leaves for the place he mentioned.

As Jason is on his way, someone hacks into the comms on his helmet–it’s Barbara, she found him after the attack on the mobsters–and she’s trying to get Jason to stop and leave Gotham. He and Bruce had a truce, that Jason would say out of Gotham and stop being Red Hood. Jason says that truce ended when he let Joker escape and now he’s going to kill him. Barbara says he’s not the only person Joker hurt, we see her in the Clocktower in her wheel chair with a picture of her and Gordon. Jason says he’ll kill Joker for both of them. Barbara says she’d rather the Joker be alive than Jason dead at his hands, and Jason says, well that’s where they differ.

Jason investigates the place, an empty funhouse or something. Down a hallway he thinks he sees the Joker and he runs after him but there’s no one there. He keeps seeing images of when he got captured by the Joker in the mirror, sees his younger self bloodied and dead. He’s getting increasingly unhinged. Then Bruce appears as Batman, tells Jason he broke their truce, he came back to Gotham and he killed people, but Bruce is willing to overlook it if he just leaves. Jason goes into his issues with Bruce, about how that’s his problem, he’s unwilling to go as far as necessary to really protect people. About how if Bruce had killed Joker from the beginning, Jason wouldn’t have died or become what he is, and Barbara wouldn’t be in a wheelchair, and all the people who died in the Arkham break out would still be alive.

Jason attacks Bruce, they have a huge badass fight. They are mostly fighting to a draw but they are both getting heavily injured. In the middle of their fight they think they see joker and Jason cuts off Bruce’s path and goes after him alone–only to get clocked with a crowbar from behind and dragged off.

Bruce finally makes it around to where Jason ran off only to a smear of blood on the ground that he runs through the computer and is told belongs to Jason by Alfred. Spray painted next to it is a Joker smile and the location where Jason first tried to get Bruce to murder the Joker.

Bruce goes to the location and finds the Joker there with Jason completely beat up and tied down. “Remember this Batsy? It was a fun little game, wasn’t it? It really had potential.” He’s missed his broken bird in Arkham and getting out has made him feel nostalgic, but alas he has better things to do, so it’s time to tie up this loose end for once and for all. He doesn’t need Red Hood getting between batman and his games, so he’s going to play one final round, winner takes all. “I think we should play again, but this time with a twist,” he says. Joker has set up Bruce to kill him or he’s going to kill Jason again–he’s like you can’t do it can you? Not even for your little robin. So he’s going to die–again.

The confrontation ends exactly like it did in Under the Red hood. Bruce throws a batarang that slits Joker’s throat but doesn’t outright kill him. Joker runs away laughing as Bruce goes to Jason, with Jason weeping and telling him to go after the Joker. Bruce refuses and says Jason’s injuries are more important. He tries to take him to the manor and Jason says no, he refuses to go there, to take him to a hospital. Bruce says if he goes there Red Hood will be arrested for killing the gangster. Jason doesn’t care, he refuses to have anything to do with a father who chooses the joker over his own son twice, he doesn’t get to treat his wounds and act like not going after the Joker was him saving Jason. it was just him betraying Jason yet again.

The last scene is Roy visiting Jason in Blackgate prison. He shows him home videos of Lian and brings him crayon pictures from her. He tells Jason if he ever wants out, just to say, but Jay says no, he’s got some unfinished business to handle. We see Black Mask, also there in the prison…

The End.

—

So pretty much the first movie has the Joker as the main villain in a re-working of the UtRH story, pretty typical Jason stuff.

The second one is where things are a lot less typical and almost brand new and not from the comics because let’s face it–Jason doesn’t have a lot of good stories that don’t involve the Joker. In the second movie Jason is in prison for most of the plot. And the villain? Astrid Arkham, who is the Arkham Knight. How does that work, you may wonder. Oh I have ideas and it’s twisty~ If you guys want to know how I think that one would go, I’ll write it up later.

The third one I’m thinking a League of Assassins thing. Basically Talia comes to Jason to try to get him to lead the league and we find out a lot about the circumstances of Jason’s death and resurrection and training. I’m much less sure about the exact plot for this one, but I think by the end of it Jason should finally forgive Bruce enough to go home and stop killing.

[eldritchsurveys]

o81.

[[ Random Survey Questions // By @x-hallie-x ]] 1. When was the last time you realized something about yourself, your abilities, or your financial situation that left you feeling disappointed? >> I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve got a pretty solid perception of my financial situation, and considering it’s the best it’s been since I’ve hit adulthood, I can’t imagine being too disappointed (except when new video games come out lmao but half the time I buy them anyway because... like, I can, for once, and my brain goblins can’t prevent me from treating myself forever!). As far as my mental state is concerned, Can Calah won’t let me beat myself up about that, so entertaining any sort of disappointment in myself is out of the question. 

2. Generally, are you more likely to blame others or yourself for problems you experience? >> Generally, I’m more likely to blame myself than others. But I don’t think that’s any better than blaming others. I am as much a product of my environment and the other people in my life as I am a product of whatever wild magical shit happens to make brains the way they are. I can control what I can control, but a lot of things about my life are out of my control. Finding things to place blame on really just doesn’t help me fix things, so I don’t care who’s to blame, I care how it can be fixed/helped.

3. What is one thing about your life that you don’t ever see changing, even if you might wish it would? >> I probably will never be a person that is gainfully employed or self-sufficient. And, honestly, that would hurt me more if I didn’t have someone who is gainfully employed and self-sufficient who is willing to use that for both of our benefit. I was basically convinced that everyone in this country is out for whatever they can get for themselves, and if I can’t keep up with that, then I’m not worth keeping around. I’d been convinced that people saw me as a leech who just existed to suck up all their resources, and had nothing of value to offer in return. It’s a very insidious mentality to have absorbed, but the longer I’m here, the less power it has over me, so I guess I do have her to thank for that.

4. At what point in your life have you been the most social or had the most friendships? And at which point have you been the least social? >> I guess when I lived in NYC, in general. I had a couple of persistent social circles: the Streetwork LES crew (homeless/destitute youth who went to the drop-in center on the Lower East Side called Streetwork), and the vamp scene crew (self-styled “vampyres” who participated in a big underground subculture, subdivided themselves into Houses and Clans, and threw a lot of parties). Most of those people weren’t what I’d call my friends, per se -- we were very friendly, sure, and I had a lot of good times with them, but most of those people didn’t really measure up to what I’d want out of friendship (and the rest were just casual acquaintances). I guess now is when I’ve been the least social; I know almost no one out here and the people I do know are really just... friendly acquaintances, I guess? Social-media buddies? We don’t really know things about each other, you know, like friends do... I don’t know. At this age, I don’t know how friendships form and I don’t know how to find out. The Internet is where my friends are now and I guess that’s just the way it has to be until I figure out something else (or until I move to a less socially-uptight area).

5. Do you prefer to have a few close friends or a bunch of random acquaintances? Which would describe what you have now? >> I’d like to have a mix of both. I just like to have people to be social with, in a variety of ways. Like I had in New York... Right now, I don’t know what I have. I’m kinda off this subject because it depresses me, ngl, no offence to anyone.

6. Do you journal? Generally, what do you write about? Do you find it helpful to get your thoughts out that way, or do you prefer another form of self-expression? >> I used to journal. I used to be really into journalling. But I guess, instead of trying to stick to the same practices I used to do, maybe I ought to recognise that my instinct to journal has been diverted into other forms of media -- like keeping a tumblr, and taking surveys. These all exist as records of my life -- as proof that I was here, that I existed, that these things happened to me. The internet enables me to keep a multimedia record of my existence, and that’s actually more than I could expect from just one paper journal, or whatever. Journalling (on various journal sites especially) was indeed a helpful way for me to get my thoughts out, but I guess now I just talk to Can Calah instead. I think I got put off writing my thoughts down because my instinct is to keep stuff like that public, because it’s all me and I am an open book, but then people (not just one person, either, this is just a thing people do in general, and I guess it’s understandable but oh my god) would get upset about stuff later and it’d just get messy. So I got put off being emotional on the internet because it backfired on me a lot lmao. I’m working on getting over it.

7. Do you like eating foods that other people have cooked for you, or do you prefer to have control over your meals? >> I do like eating food that other people have cooked for me -- as long as it’s food I like. And as long as it isn’t like... some kind of social trap. Like, I was annoyed with Sparrow’s mother for a few months because she wasn’t respecting my boundaries and always had some stupid shit to say about me to Sparrow and I don’t play that fucking shit. So I basically stopped being nice to her. And she kept trying to do stuff like... like Easter dinner, she made it “Southern-style” and made collards and banana pudding and shit. And like, this is a Midwestern White(tm) we’re talking about. That’s not the kind of stuff she naturally makes for any occasion. And she told Sparrow that she’d asked around (I guess at her job??? or something?) about what Black people eat on holidays??? And Sparrow’s like “but you could have just asked Logan if there was any dishes he wanted to be served”. Like, it’s not fucking rocket science, I’m right here. But she’ll always do shit like that, trying to ingratiate herself, when it’s not that fucking hard!!!! Don’t touch me, don’t talk about me to my fiancée behind my back, and ask me things directly!!!! WOW! SO HARD! (Also, the banana pudding was a fucking miss because bananas are one of like 3 foods on this entire planet that I don’t like. Which... she would have known... if she’d asked me first. But no, it was just all “oh I did this, I did that, he’s not grateful” bitch I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS. STOP IT.) Anyway, shit like that I hate. But people making food for me in general is great, because I hate cooking.

8. Have you ever been somewhere and REALLY didnt like a food that you were expected to eat? How did you deal with this? Are you someone who is likely to suck it up and be polite or refuse and save your taste buds? >> Yeah, that same Easter holiday I just mentioned. The collards were terrible, the fish was meh, and everything else was food I don’t care for (cheesy potatoes and that kinda starch-heavy fare). So I basically drank wine and played on my phone the whole time. As you can see, politeness is not something I feel compelled to give if I don’t want to. 

9. What is one way in which you compare yourself to others? In this comparison, do you regard yourself as better or worse off than the people to whom you usually do the comparing? >> Well, I compare myself to other fanwriters a lot, because it’s something I can’t help. I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I’ve been writing literally all of my conscious life, and I’ve watched myself progress. I’m generally pretty fair about my strengths and weaknesses in writing. When my confidence is where it’s supposed to be, and I’ve been writing often, I turn out some pretty good shit. I like my work. But my confidence took a big hit at some point lately, and I’m not sure why. All I know is that I feel like my offerings to fandom are like... boring to people, or not interesting enough, or??? I don’t know. And I feel like I don’t have any stories worth telling anymore. These are all feelings and really not based in any sort of reality, because my friends and partner tell me they like my work and my OCs, and tumblr as a whole is so astoundingly saturated with fanwork that the lack of interest most likely has nothing to do with my content and more to do with the fact that the market is full up and people don’t have time. I know all that, but when I sit down and go “okay, self, let’s write a fic”, all these mental blocks land in my path and I get too tired to deal with it and just scroll my dash instead. I don’t know what to do, but I guess I’ll just truck along until something in me changes. :/

10. What is something you’ve been particularly grateful for lately? >> That while my thanatophobia is nowhere near fixed, it’s been a little quieter lately. I’ve been able to sleep, and being able to sleep makes a lot of other things more manageable by default, so it’s like an ouroboros (in this case, a good one; but when I can’t sleep then it becomes a terrible one, lol). I’m using the lull to try to install some better programming, some less spiral-y thought patterns, that sort of thing. I don’t know if it’s helping, but I’ve literally got more to gain than I stand to lose, so.

11. What kind of change or opportunity would be the biggest help in your life right now? >> A therapist. But... like, one I feel like I can build a relationship with, not one who I dread seeing (which has been every therapist I’ve ever had). But like, besides just the benefit to my mental health... the clock is really ticking; recertification for SSI will most likely be happening within the next year and I have no psych team. How will they know how to judge my case if I’m not in any kind of treatment? That’s how people end up cut off. :T

12. Is there one emotion that you experience more often than any other? Is there an emotion you rarely ever experience? >> I experience amusement most often, probably. If that’s an emotion. An emotion I rarely experience is... shame? Most likely.

13. How mature would you say you are? What qualities do you think make a person mature? >> I don’t know how to gauge maturity, least of all my own. What is my basis for comparison? Adulthood as it is in modern USian society is a crock, most of the time -- the way people understand it is all kinds of flawed. What are our passage rites? Who are our elders? Where do we learn how to be a productive member of our community (and not just a cog in the capitalist machine)? The people we look up to are often no better off than we are. Individualism as a social standard (as opposed to the understanding of oneself as an individual) and the division of the community structure has ruined our ability to understand ourselves in relation to other people properly. What is maturity, in a society like this? What is my role in my society, and how well am I fulfilling it? What have I learned about life, and how much of it is truly worth knowing and passing on? Questions, questions, questions.

14. When was the last time you believed there might be something seriously medically wrong with you? What was the ultimate diagnosis? >> I mean, I always think my body’s about to fall apart, even though I’m aware that’s illogical and just a byproduct of thanatophobia. I don’t think I’ve ever thought anything was seriously medically wrong with me, because generally nothing is.

15. What is one illness you are afraid of having? Do you know anyone who has faced this illness? >> Anything that involves degeneration of the brain (Alzheimer’s and the sort). And no, I don’t know anyone personally with anything like that. 

16. How do you tend to behave when you’re sick? What kinds of things do you like people to do for you, if anything, to help you feel better? >> I’m so rarely ill that I’m not even sure, lmao. I think it’d depend on what kind of sick I am, because different illnesses require different methods of care.

17. If you’re someone who rarely eats breakfast, is there a reason for this? If you do usually eat breakfast, are there any other meals you avoid or skip for any reason, and why so? >> I mean, I eat when I’m hungry, and I don’t care what the time of day is (as long as it’s not too close to bedtime). So I don’t really label my meals using “breakfast”, “lunch”, and so on. 

18. When was the last time you did something you were proud of? Were other people proud of you as well? Does it matter to you whether or not other people care about your accomplishments, or is your own satisfaction enough? >> Probably finishing some questline in a video game. And no, I mean, I didn’t really tell anyone or anything. It’s not really an important thing. Woo, big deal, video games, who cares.

19. What is your least favorite thing about the season you’re currently experiencing? Are you okay with most types of weather, or are you only happy under certain conditions? >> I don’t like sweating or feeling lethargic because of heat / humidity. I’m usually okay with most types of weather as long as they’re not extreme, but if there are long stretches of cloudy / rainy days I feel pretty diminished and gloomy-doomy.

20. Have you made any changes to your style or “look” lately? How often do you change your appearance, hairstyle, fashion, etc? Or is it a pretty constant thing? >> No, not really. I don’t know what to change. My executive function when it comes to appearance is like... in negative integers. I just... I lost the knack for it. Whatever.

21. What are some things you do to feel pampered? >> I’m not sure I ever feel pampered, lmao. I tried to think about it and I just got this tangled ball of wires regarding like, stuff I can’t even explain quickly, so I’m just gonna move on.

22. What was the last thing you felt hopeful about? Do you think there’s a good chance of whatever-it-is working out in your favor, or not so much? >> Well, the last thing I felt hopeful about was getting out to see The Equalizer 2 today, and then the whole debit card thing happened, so I actually had my hopes dashed. And all because I did what I was supposed to do! But doing what I was supposed to do means that now I have to wait for a new debit card, which means I can’t go to the movies today (I can’t get to the bank and just get cash, which is what the lady on the phone said to do! I don’t fucking drive!!!). So, you know. Right now I’m just focusing on salvaging my day and my mood.

23. In what ways are you prone to black and white thinking? In what ways do you see more in terms of color or gray? >> I don’t know, I’m mostly a grey person by necessity or by design or whatever. Sometimes I’ll think “I’m a complete fucking idiot” because I did one dumb thing, or something, but like... it’s just because I’m upset about the one thing and can’t properly process that one thing at the moment without like, making a mountain out of it. That’s why I just try to distract myself until the feeling passes, because that’s the only way to get my brain to move on.

24. Are there types of people you will simply never understand (not necessarily ~empathize with) no matter how hard you might try? Are there people you seem to understand almost immediately? >> Well, yeah, definitely. I mean, I can’t possibly understand everyone. I don’t expect myself to, either. I guess I understand people who are like me? Like, that’s logical, right? I don’t know. 

25. When was the last time you tried something you’ve never tried before? How likely are you to break from your routine and try new things? >> The only thing I can think of recently is playing Journey, because I’d never played that before. I don’t know how often I try new things, especially since a lot of “trying new things” involves either money I don’t have or access I don’t have. 

26. Have you ever “recovered” from anything? What does “recovery” mean or look like to you? >> I don’t think so. I think mental recovery is a long-term shifting of paradigms and changing of perspective that can only be truly comprehended in retrospect. I think in that respect, I’ll be recovering for a long time. This is why I prefer the small-scale focus rather than the wide-scale focus, because using the wide-scale focus too much makes everything feel bleak and futile -- we may have a more complex consciousness and a more complex understanding of time and space, but I think exercising that cosmic viewpoint frequently can be really taxing on the brain (which manifests in things like existential despair, thanatophobia, etc). So instead of thinking about “recovery”, I think about being good to myself today. And that’s that.

27. What are some ways your childhood differed from those of others around you? Do you think this difference was harmful or advantageous in the long run? >> Hm. I was raised as a “gifted child” with all the ridiculous bullshit that entailed. I was sheltered to an absurd degree for a modern child (like, I didn’t watch cartoons and didn’t know what actual video games [as opposed to computer games] were until I was almost an adult). I didn’t make my first friend until sixth grade, and I was so socially undeveloped that I ended up losing her before the year was out. I didn’t know how to talk to people, I was sullen and withdrawn, I lived in my headspace and didn’t bother with the actual world around me. My curiosity as a child was severely blunted by alienation (I guess I’m making up for that lack of curiosity now, huh). I was pretty obviously not a normal child, but no one could see that?? Or didn’t care?? As long as I got good grades and didn’t cut up in class, no one cared about my development, I guess. I think the nature of my childhood didn’t do me any favours, but I also think that I’ve done the best I could with what I had (which wasn’t much). I eventually had to teach myself socialisation by observation, for example, and I think I did a decent enough job. I can’t blame my parent and the adults around him for my stunted development forever. Now it’s my responsibility.

28. What is one thing you are really good at compared to most people? What about one thing you are really bad at compared to others? >> I really don’t know how to determine this. I think it’s too easy to judge oneself unfairly in comparison to other people, so I try not to do it on purpose, you dig.

29. Do you think people are “all good” or “all bad”? What would make someone qualify as “bad” or “good” to you, or do you simply not think in those terms? >> No, I don’t think that. I don’t even think of people in terms of “bad” or “good”, unless we’re literally playing a Fable game where you have an actual “good/evil” meter. Even then, I’ve spent most of my time in that fandom unpacking that stupid fucking spectrum and writing the characters with the nuance they deserve. So, you know. I’m pretty sick of good/evil or good/bad as a whole. People are people, and that’s that on that.

30. When was the last time you did something out in nature? Do you notice a dip in your mood when you don’t get enough of the Great Outdoors? >> I guess that’d be on the Fourth, when we went to Creekside Park to eat lunch. I... really don’t spend a whole lot of time outside anymore, and I think it’s directly related to how much I don’t like where I live. I’ve tried on many occasions to be more enthusiastic about something, anything, about Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I really fucking can’t. I can’t do it. And I’m tired of trying to make myself do it. So now I just don’t do shit. Which isn’t any better, I know. I’m just trying to make do, here.

[yuurivoice]

So sorry to hear you’re feeling under the weather!! I hope you feel better soon! In the meantime, why don’t you tell us about the other things you’re passionate about? I would really love to hear what things you’re into and how you ended up where you are today! I hope you feel better soon!

Good question.

Creating and entertaining has been my big passion since my youth. Whether it was through writing, storytelling, film making. I wanted to write analysis, reviews, etc. and marry that with videos and the like. 

I adore anime and video games as a medium. When I was younger I loved books but somewhere along the way I fell out of love with reading. I think it was a focus thing. Writing is a struggle for me sometimes too. I probably need to be medicated, at least when it comes to times I NEED to focus. Or I just need the means to isolate myself better.

My biggest dream is to do something creative with my friends. Years back I pitched the idea to some of my friends, before being a “YouTuber” was even really a thing. I wanted to have a house together where we’d like, work on whatever we were working on, joint effort, include vlogs (I don’t think vlogs were even a thing in 2006), do gaming stuff, etc. 

Obviously times have changed, and I’m not keen on chasing trends. I don’t know what a 2018 version of that vision would look like for me, but I’ve wondered. Especially now that YuuriVoice has become a thing. My heart longs to create more, to diversify, to try new things...and wouldn’t it be nice if I could do it with my friends. So maybe that is what I’m truly passionate about, it’s the thing that has always come back to me. It’s something that requires serious contemplation, but also something that I think could be really great if executed correctly.

As for getting where I am today? That’s a long story but I’ll try and summarize.

Lots of trial and error. Lots of failure. Struggling with anxiety and depression through my early and mid 20′s, couldn’t work a “real job”, other opportunities would fall through after a few months. Constant threat of homelessness. When YuuriVoice happened I was genuinely at the end of my rope, these recordings were an escape, the one thing I managed to enjoy when everything else was simply not enjoyable. 

Somehow, my voice, something I’ve generally disliked my whole life, was the secret sauce to finding some kind of path. I didn’t expect to get commissions. I didn’t expect Patreon to be remotely successful, never mind as successful has been thus far. 

That’s the YuuriVoice story, and just the most recent chapter of my own. If you wanted to know how I got here in a broader sense, well, that’s definitely too long of a story to summarize. 

[katrinawritesthings]

Kibum/Everyone; A Couple Of Kids (part 1.5 or someth idk); PG

the part where they go to breakfast on monday and talk about what kibum’s gonna do over summer and the next year that didn’t fit into part two but i still wrote anyway

still tw for homelessness and mentions of abusive parents

“My mom will be your mom,” Jonghyun says immediately. Taemin muffles a snort. He’s been mumbling about that since last night, has gotten himself so set on the idea already.

[part 1] [part 2] [extra]

Gentle shaking rouses Taemin from his doze; he scrunches his eyes shut, clinging tighter to Jonghyun’s arm even as he continues to nudge him. He doesn’t need this.

“Taem.”

“Mmmgh.” He opens his eyes grumpily and blinks the little diner they're all having breakfast in into focus. His empty plate in front of him from when he finished his food first and promptly nuzzled Jonghyun and went back to sleep, Minho poking at the remains of his pancakes, Jinki sipping his orange juice with the fondest look, and Kibum looking down at his phone in more of an “avoiding drawing attention” kind of way than an “innocently distracted” way. Oh. He rubs sleep out of his eyes and sits up straight, reaching for his almost empty coffee mug to finish the rest of it. “Are we talking about it finally now?” he asks.

“We already talked about it,” Kibum huffs shortly. Taemin glances at his annoyed little frown and grins.

“Right,” he hums. “So now we’re talking about what we’re going to do about it.” He props his chin up in his elbow and smiles pleasantly at the back of Kibum’s phone. That’s been their plan since the card game last night and they are going to stick to it, no matter how long Kibum wants to stall. His little technicality gave him maybe an extra ten seconds of avoidance. Cute. Kibum scrunches his face, glances at the four of them waiting for him, sighs loudly, stuffs his phone into his pocket, crosses his arms, and sighs again.

“Fine,” he mumbles.

“My mom will be your mom,” Jonghyun says immediately. Taemin muffles a snort. He’s been mumbling about that since last night, has gotten himself so set on the idea already. “You know she will,” he says. “We don’t have a lot but--”

“Jonghyun--I’m not--gonna get adopted by your mom,” Kibum says. He grimaces as he says it, shakes his head and waves the idea off. Jonghyun huffs, pouts, taps the table insistently.

“No, I meant, like, emotionally,” he says. “She's so good at being a mom. Like. The best mom I know. And if you ever need, like, a motherly hug, or an embarrassing birthday card, or a two in the morning talk…. Just. She’s here.” He takes another breath like he wants to say something else, then hesitates and lets it out with a short little sigh. He glances down at the table for a moment before looking back up. “I’m here,” he says, voice small but sure. Taemin’s lips quirk up at that tiny confession. Jonghyun has always been good. Kibum has a small smile as well, but he still shakes his head.

“Look, I don’t… want a new mom,” he mumbles. “I just. Want.” He hesitates, glances between all of them guiltily. Taemin sneaks his hand over to rub his arm encouragingly. They all talked about this. If any of them weren’t prepared to help then they wouldn’t be here right now. Kibum’s reluctance to ask isn’t enough to make them give up on him. “Not having somewhere to sleep every night is the hardest part,” Kibum mumbles eventually. He pulls out his phone again, tapping open the lock and scrolling through his apps to avoid looking at them. “Like, there’s the always being hungry, and the eternal stress, and the intense money anxiety, and the mountain of lies, but.” He sighs and shrugs without finishing his thought.

“So you’re saying the hardest part about being homeless is being homeless?” Minho asks. He’s got a little grin when Taemin glances at him, proud of his snappy little comment, but he quickly hides it behind his hand when Kibum throws him a sharp glare.

“Yes,” Kibum says shortly. There’s a silence; Minho looks away awkwardly as Taemin rubs some leftover crust away from the corner of his eye. After another moment Minho shakes his head and looks back.

“Okay, anyway,” he says, and both Jinki and Jonghyun snort at that bad coverup. “How much… do you not want to talk to parents about this?” he asks seriously. “Like, because, I could--”

“Not at all,” Kibum says quickly. He shakes his head, thumb rubbing over the bumps of his phone case. “No,” he adds when Jonghyun tries to say something. Looking around at all of them, he sighs, slouching in his chair and rubbing his hand over his face. “All of your parents know my parents,” he mumbles. “They’ll ask questions, and they’ll tell my parents, or they’ll call someone, and I’ll be put in a kids shelter or something, and--I mean.” He shakes his head again. “I turn eighteen this year,” he says. “In a few months I’d be back on the streets anyway.”

Taemin nods quietly. That is true. By the time they’d figured everything out and gotten Kibum relatively stable, he wouldn’t be a minor for very much longer and they’d have to do it all over again. He sips his coffee tiredly, nodding once at Kibum when he glances over. He can’t help Kibum be stable; he’s mostly here for moral support.

“My parents…,” Jinki mumbles. “They haven’t confirmed it yet, but they haven’t missed a summer vacation since I’ve been old enough to spend summer on my own,” he says. Taemin nods again. This is good, yes, this is one of the things he was thinking of this passed month. Jinki looks up to meet Kibum’s eyes. “They always tell me no wild parties, but they never specifically said I couldn’t let a homeless friend sleep in the guest room for two and a half months,” he says.

“And,” Jonghyun says, raising his hand a tiny bit. He lowers it when they look at him, to his mouth, where he nibbles on a fingertip. “My boss is gonna be looking for someone else to help at the pet shop this summer,” he says. He glances quickly at Jinki; Taemin sees Jinki shrug with a nod. Yeah. Kibum having a shot at a job is kind of more important than Jinki having one right now. “Or my sister works at that recording studio, you know, and if they need a new assistant or something, she’ll know,” Jonghyun adds. His smile is small and hesitant, and it grows when Kibum twitches one back at him.

“Um,” Kibum says. “Yeah, um.” He glances between both Jonghyun and Jinki, and then back down at his phone, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll. Think about it,” he mumbles. Taemin rolls his eyes. That’s good enough, he guesses. He probably wouldn’t be able to thank someone for offering him a home and a job so easily either.

“If,” Minho says slowly then. He’s frowning at the table, rubbing his thumb over the fancy wood. “If you’re not good with parents knowing,” he says, “what about, my brother?” He looks up, bottom lip between his teeth. “You know I just live with him during the school year,” he says. “I--we--could. For the last month of school, before mom and dad get back, like, you know. Let you stay. WIth us. Maybe. If you’re okay with it.”

Oh. Taemin blinks, surprised. He’d never even thought of that. Kibum looks surprised as well, but still anxious and hesitant with his fingers playing with his shirt collar.

“I mean,” he says. “You think he wouldn’t tell?” he asks. Minho snorts, shaking his head.

“He barely pays attention to me unless he’s bothering me to go to the gym with him or write the shopping list,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “You could be there for two weeks and he’d only just start to think that you spent the night one time.”

“Honestly, that’s true, I spent the weekend at Minho’s place once and I don’t think Minseuk even knew I was there,” Jinki says. His voice is muffled around his cup of ice water but he nods earnestly all the same. Taemin looks at his own untouched glass of ice water and then decides to sneak his hand over to Jonghyun’s half empty one instead to steal an ice cube to suck. Kibum chews on his lip, eyes dropping back to his phone.

“I have… Sulli, tomorrow,” he says, tapping open what’s probably his calendar app. “And then Wednesday is Nicole’s track practise, I was gonna spend the night with her… Amber probably maybe if her parents say yes on Thursday, but…,” he trails off after that with a shrug, a wince, a sigh. Taemin guesses he doesn’t have any weekend sleepover plans yet. He looks back up shyly, runs his fingers through his hair, and rubs his palm over his forehead. “Would…,” he starts, and then lets out a heavy sigh. “Friday?” he asks Minho quietly.

“Friday until summer,” Minho says firmly. Kibum makes a noise, hesitant and reluctant, and opens his mouth, but before he says anything, he stops himself. He shakes his head, putting his face into both hands. They all watch as he takes slow breaths and rubs his palms into his eyes. Taemin feels Jonghyun shifting like he wants to say something and elbows his side gently to make him wait. Eventually, Kibum sighs heavily and moves to prop his cheek up in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He doesn’t lift his eyes from the table. “I’m sorry, you’re all being so good, but I’m so fucking--fucked up, and I know I should be thankful but I’m just--fucking--scared, and guilty, but. Like. I’m tired of being just a part of some homeless trans youth statistic or whatever, but it’s fucking hard, to be here, talking about this, when I’ve been acting like it hasn’t been happening for so long, and.” He shakes his head again and brings his coffee to his lips to sip.

Taemin reaches over and pats his head gently to be both comforting and obnoxious. It works, if the way Kibum shoots him a glare and flaps his hand away means anything.

“We’re here for you whether you can face it or not,” Jinki says simply, voice slightly muffled because his chin is propped up in his hand.

“Yeah,” Taemin says. That’s about it.

“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun hums.

“Trans?” Minho asks quietly.

There’s a pause; The other three look at Minho while Taemin watches Kibum’s eyes widen and his free hand clench behind his plate. Oh.

“Uh--um,” Kibum says. He sits up, picks up his phone, puts it back down, runs his fingers through his hair. “I was, um. I was planning, kind of, on telling, you all, um.” His hands shake more than his voice and Taemin winces. He’s not ready for this.

“What?” he asks quickly. He tilts his head in confusion, hoping that everyone else can pick up on what he’s doing. “I didn’t hear anything,” he says.

“What were we talking about again?” Jinki asks. He’s less pretend confused and more obviously covering the mistake, which Taemin guesses isn’t bad. It’s not like anyone bought that he didn’t hear in the first place. Jonghyun moves next to Taemin again and it’s followed by a sharp hiss and a glare from Minho. Taemin assumes that Jonghyun kicked him under the table.

“What--oh, um,” Minho says after Jinki nudges him as well. The chest exposed by his loose vneck turns pink as his big eyes widen with the realization of his mistake. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah, um, I definitely, uh, didn’t hear you say, anything, about being trans,” he says. “Like, ha ha, what? I don’t know where, I, uh, got that from. Ha.” His weak chuckle is the fakest thing Taemin has ever heard in his life, and he’s known Jonghyun for a long time. He has to realize it, too, from the way he blushes darker and looks away when Kibum raises his brows at him from across the table.

“Yeah, and,” Jinki says, and he looks more amused than ever at Minho’s fuckup. “If someone were ever, to come out to us, as trans or something,” he says, turning to Kibum with a more comforting grin. “I am sure that all of us would be accepting and encouraging and not garbage.”

“And, maybe, one of us, maybe, might, probably, maybe, also be, the same, as them,” Jonghyun adds in the tiniest voice. “Maybe.” His hands are small and nervous in his lap as he speaks, but his eyes are earnest and the little smile he gives Kibum is sweet and encouraging. Taemin pats his arm gently. That was brave.

Kibum looks at Jonghyun, freshly outed just to make him feel less alone. Then he looks to Minho, still blushy but smiling apologetically and trying his best, and then Jinki, who’s giving him his home and his potential job and his special smile that makes it feel like the world is okay. He looks at Taemin last, who reaches over and pushes a few strands of hair off of his cheek. Kibum flaps his hand away, but smiles as he does it, the tiniest breath of laughter before he picks up his phone and uses it as a mirror to fix his hair better.

Taemin thinks it’s the first time he’s smiled since last night.

[dearfarmerjeremy]

How could I not see it [ 5/24/2020] PS. I’m a little angry.

Dear Farmer Jeremy,

Congratulations. I didn’t write about you for several years. 

The song “ She will be loved” by Maroon 5 played on the radio today and it brought back a lot of memories. The first to come to mind was a surprise birthday party that was held for me just a few days after my last post. Many people were invited, you included. You didn’t show, per usual. 

How could I not see it? 

You were never there. NEVER. You avoided me like the plague. Obviously I came on quite strong ( especially after reviewing my posts here over the years) but still...you could have at least showed up to something that I was at. You even avoided youth group when I was there. It was like you always knew when I would be somewhere, and made a point to avoid me. 

Now, normally, I would totally understand that, but I had apologized to you sometime before my last post specifically about being so...well...obsessed over you? I had told you that I was sorry for any time I had made you feel uncomfortable, and you smiled like you always did, saying everything was alright. That you forgave me. After that, I did everything I could to treat you like everyone else. Heck, It was to the point where you approached me once at a church graduation function to say something, and I simply said hello and turned away. I wanted to say more, but I was preoccupied with trying to ignore my anxiety,  for, you see, I was only there to support a friend. I had left many months ago unannounced due to an accumulation of unfortunate circumstances. That church was very...cult-y. 

It is amazing what you can see when you take a step back. 

I texted you the other day ( several years later, mind you)  to ask a harmless question. I wanted to know your opinion on a motorcycle. I knew that you were into them at some point. You responded, but then stopped after I told you who I was. Why would you do that? Is it what you were taught? That would explain why you were never home when I came over to see your mom, or why your family stopped inviting me over. I wasn’t welcome ‘round those parts. Bless her heart. 

Fuck. 

You know why I like that song so much? Because it gave me hope. My child self clung to those lyrics “ she will be loved” on days when I was beaten, screamed at, or chased with knives, or hit in the head with a frying pan. On days that I was rejected, forgotten about and homeless. On cold nights in my car, hiding from gossiping locals.  Honestly, I don’t think you would have understood. You grew up in this community of sheltered people with these perfect little ideas about marriage and how a lady should be. How could I be your perfect little housewife if I didn’t grow up learning all those perfect little ideas? I didn’t have anybody, Jeremy. No mother to teach me how to act or eat or present myself. My father died. Have you ever seen someone die? I was surviving the best I could all on my own. Of course I was a bit quarky. A bit loud sometimes when anxiety would take over while I was trying a little too hard to be liked. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted to be accepted. Isn’t that what church is supposed to be for? 

 I was told my one of your mentors that I was not valuable wife material because I hunched too much ( Have YOU ever had to carry over 30 pounds on your chest?).  I was also gaining points for “ losing some weight” but apparently my timer was ticking. According to him, as you age, men get more valuable and women lose value. I have to marry young or I’ll be an old maid. At the time, I absorbed everything I was told and took it to heart. I didn’t challenge it because I wanted to be part of a community. Unfortunately, nobody told me that you can only be born into it, and since I wasn’t a perfect little homeschooler with good parents and no “drama”, I wasn’t welcome. 

That hurt. A lot.

I tried and tried and tried for many years to be accepted. All I anted was family. To be loved. To be wanted. 

There was a moment I thought that was finally happening.

I was invited to live with someone, but things didn’t work out. Everything I did was judged and talked about behind my back. Rumors went around about how late I stayed out. I didn’t think I needed to explain myself and everything I did. I am an adult, after all, and I was spending time at a late night library studying for certification exams, not doing drugs or sleeping around like you thought. I didn’t have the money for a computer, so I had to travel to the next town over, and that takes time when you live in the boonies. I passed that exam, and I was so proud of that accomplishment. I studied for months, but the glory of it all was squashed when I lost my job, and even more judgement seeped through the cracks in the door. I could hear the whispers and feel the stares on Sunday mornings. 

There is a lot more to my story, but this has been but a fraction relating to you, Farmer Jeremy. This will most likely be the last post for you. Who knows? Maybe the reason you didn’t respond to my text was because you found this tumblr page. In that case, I wish you well. I hope you learn to accept people you don’t understand. I hope you make it out of that town and get some new perspective. I hope you can learn to love outside of a small box. I hope you gain the courage to get out of your comfort zone and pursue your dreams. All of them.

I fell in love with your music, your smile, and your determination. I hope you will always have those things with you, and I hope you find someone who encourages and supports you.

Who knows, Maybe you’re gay. That’s cool. 

[giniwin]

I'm probably just talking directly into the void, but I'm upset and not sure how much longer I'll make it. I'm just going to publicly fantasize and hope the universe hears my half-alive rambling.

Idk. Usually when I get this stressed and depressed it's because of caffeine withdrawal, but that's simply not possible, so yeah... No idea why I'm so upset lately. Probably just need to give myself a moment to actually feel something, but I'm so numb from my youth and continuous stressful living-situation that I don't think I physically can.

Basically, I'm mad to exist. For a lot of reasons, but mostly because I can't change the world. I try to be kind and spread nothing but positivity, but it seems like karma doesn't exist, or I'm just bad at being positive, because ever since I decided to be nicer my life has been going downhill. I don't relate the two, though, so I'm going to continue to be positive, at least outwardly.

Inwardly, though, I'm so close to death it's unsettling. I'm physically sick and I have been for at least a week now, and I'm fairly certain it's because I'm so stressed.

Anyway, I just want to express my frustration with the wealthy but also my desire to be wealthy. I recently found out that there are private islands for sale that cost about as much as a house, sometimes less. To me, this sparked the idea of buying one of these islands and basically turning it into a self-sustaining communist country where I could send homeless, poor, and fellow trans people. They could work whatever job they want and experience life how it's meant to be lived: no money, just love.

The hardest part of establishing something like that, I think, would be finding enough teachers and professors to staff schools and colleges. But other than that, I could have little cafés, if anyone wanted to be a chef. Everyone could grow their own food in their yards, like yards were meant to be used, but I could import things, as I imagine hunting and making sweets would be pretty tough. It could have pretty little parks and the most beautiful library I could conjure.

And, as I could welcome any and all religion into my little country, but not organize it. I could even have a little chapel where all the citizens could worship, meditate, or just experience something ethereal, and I'd make sure they know that it doesn't matter what religion anyone is practicing, just that you're under the same roof with your fellow humans and being made to feel small and insignificant, but somehow vastly important.

In the event of crime, I'd exile pedophiles, rapists, and murderers from my little Utopia if any showed up, and I'd welcome immigrants and refugees, so long as we could house them. (Because it's ridiculous to not let a person live somewhere because they're from somewhere else. We're all citizens of Earth.)

I'd burn cash for fuel and put a big middle finger on my flag so the rich assholes know I'm not about to fuck with them. And yeah, America would probably attack their own people and blame it on me so they could nuke the little island, but maybe by that point I'll have made enough of an impact that my art will be art and my life will be worth it.

Anyway, a man can dream, can't he? This little fantasy is why I write. I just want to help people, but I need to help myself first, and it's so sad.

[toddmichaelrogers]

928 Days Later

This post originally appeared as an update across various social media for Spell Saga.

~pre Eh, ya’ll know I ramble. I don’t fucking like it when people who are too old use new language as if it’s their fucking language, but there is a tl:dr (god, I had to google that) at the bottom of the page if’n yer only interested in the sweet stuff (shipments, deck 2 & the like). But I like stories, and I am--if not old, getting older, so my stories take a long time to wind up and spill out. Longer than they did when I was a kid, anyhow. And much slower than these new youths and their dang emotiji’s or whatever.

all the kids’ talk in hieroglyphics It’s good for feelings but not specifics

~1 It all comes down to choices, really. I remember when I was younger--I was very newly 20, and barely 13 in most of my head--I remember I was homeless, not like, starving homeless (though sometimes I was) and not like, sleep under a bridge homeless (I had the couches of friends, and their friends, and my barely-met acquaintances, though no one seemed to own an air conditioner that Summer. One dude shall remain nameless, as I’m fairly certain he might be a super bad guy. He was never around anyway so I used to listen to his CD collections and spread my Star Wars figures around his house (13, remember, 13). I remember he had a box set of Joy Division, and I became obsessed with this one really fast version of “Love Will tear us Apart”. I used to listen to that in the Summer heat and walk around the house naked looking for something to eat. It was really years later that I realized I had lost my mind.

I had made the choice to stop taking my meds regularly. And then some other choices, as my mind spiraled without that ketracel-white. After what some would say was an alarming series of ordinarily dysfunctional life, my parents made the choice to kick me out. I have had to make a lot more choices since then.

here is a pic of me from around that time with original french toaster: Paxson of Ashgarden.

~2 Where are your fucking packages?

~3 I know that there are some people who keep in touch with me regularly and have a better idea of what’s been going on. And I also know there are others who backed this project 2 and a half years ago and think it’s dead, or i’ve been trolling everyone with shipping dates.

~4 I was at a restaurant. I was not a customer. I had just spent three days straight and about 30 hours running around mopping up drinks. By Sunday, I’m usually on my third double, and it hurts to stand, or run up the stairs with trays of food. (who puts stairs in a restaurant)? But I was feeling pretty good about myself, having made it through one more death sentence of a weekend. I took the job to pay for Spell Saga when some other stuff fell through (like, uh, all our plans, & people abandoning the project). Each Sunday usually ends with me depositing a wad of cash into an ATM and then passing out on my couch surrounded by boxes of a fantasy card game. It is not a bad life, if not a little embarrassing. Also this particular Sunday it was tornado weather and I got to watch an entire porch of rich people get fucking destroyed. I was soaked and running around collecting plates being thrown on the wind. Inside I sat down next to people my age, and before long it came time to tell them why I was serving them and not doing something with my life, which is what I always do if I like a table. As it came out, these people were super into games, and Kickstarter, and anything I could possibly like. I had a used deck in my car that I grabbed for them and they thanked me and told me I was doing great. It was a real moment for me. What was most important though, was the stories they told me about other crowdfunded projects, and how much keeping backers up-to-date mattered to them.

~5 Most of my choices about Spell Saga have been insane. Whether good, or bad (there have been both) the choices have been the work of a mad man. That goes for game design as well as business wise. I do not apologize for the game, but man I am fucking trying you guys. And you will have all your shit this year. But it’s taking forever and here’s where we’re at now:

In 2016 I made a plan with my main man J Rizzo to fund a shipment of 300 units, so all of you would get your shit before we finished with all the printing (there were delays due to packaging changes and etc).

Also that year, J Rizz* dropped off the face of the earth, as did most everyone involved with the project, due to various reasons. I took a second job or two and funded the shipment myself. They arrived in July of that year.

*J Rizz and I are cool. We had a very long talk recently that lifetime asked if they could film.

here is a pic of me & paxson of ashgarden & his son! (we are cool too)

I started sending packages out almost immediately, but I had to wait on the mail myself (autographed boxes take some damn time). By the end of the year everything was going smoothly and every. Single. Package. was about to go out by December 31st. What a fucking relief that was.

Then I lost two jobs in a month, and so did my wife. That was around the time the comments started to crop up, “where is my shit” and etc. Which I get. I mean, I don’t leave comments like that, but I get why someone would.

I scrambled and pulled together jobs and money and started sending out packages again. But now there was a problem: It was 2017 and we needed to start thinking about our patient, angelic manufacturer. Right now, they are waiting for us to upload the art to print Deck 2 and pay the deposit on it. Panda Games has been amazing with us. And I’m not saying that I’m paying for everything by working a restaurant--I have other sources of income for this project. But I am putting most of my personal funds towards it this month, just to get it finished quickly.

So in the last month I had to make another choice, in a long line of choices, and not send as many packages out. Everyone in the US who pledged over $25 should have their shit. I sent out a few Internationals, but not many. My ever-shifting goal is that by July everyone has their stuff. But again, I’ve lost two jobs before--shit happens. I used to not want to leave ANY updates because I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. I think looking back that was a bad choice. It was probably also a bad choice to air ship any units over here. The cost alone would have covered the printing of Deck 2. But I like all’a you. Even if you leave a mean comment every once in awhile. And I want everyone to have their stuff. Most of my e n t i r e life revolves around it right now.

~6 More choices have been made since the last update. We are printing new packaging for deck 1 and the prelude deck (which means everyone will at least have a fancy zero edition package from those we air-shipped last July--only 301 ever made)! We are also printing deck 2 AND it has it’s very own super-cool holofoil sleeve. But that’s not even the most exciting shit for me.

Cousin Lauren and I are finishing it up. That’s right. It’s happening. She is illustrating a picture for the front of deck 2’s box (I have been dreaming for years it would match the minstrel/lover pic we use on deck 1) and then she’s illustrating a picture for deck 3’s box.

We aren’t printing deck 3 at the moment. But it’s going to happen. So in the meantime, she’ll be spending the next month getting all the art for deck 3 and the ending finished (as soon as I finish writing her an art list).

And THAT’S NOT ALL. Lauren is going to be working on the art for the a new realmwalker deck you may remember called The Discordant Shore. It is the deck that includes copies of all the homemade Paladin Cards you will be receiving this year.

I don’t want to get too into details on this one just yet, but you play as a girl named Brell, who is also named Scaradh. And it’s an adventure so unlike the highlands you will be surprised at where it takes you. Here is a pic of some character descriptions I sent Lauren:

~7 When I’m not trying to NOT vomit because I am cleaning up a table, or worrying about you, or reading wonderful or disparaging comments in between cleaning up tables and worrying, I have been very hard at work on the next Spell Saga release: 1.5 The Under Sky. This DECK is like 2 games in one. You can use it between decks one and two, or use it as a new deck one. The design of this thing has destroyed me. I had to Photoshop the cards as I was making it because the ideas became so complex. It’s all about The Last Minstrel, but it’s also about how this process of making the game has been. Everything has taken so long, and a part of me is sort of dead inside. But I think maybe that part was supposed to die. In it’s place I have found a new type of strength to make things no matter what.

~8 This December is the 8th anniversary of when I first designed Spell Saga. In my head, there is a sort of countdown clock (198 days as of this posting). When the clock in my head strikes zero, my plan is that everyone will have everything. every. Thing. And then I’ll never work in a restaurant again.

~epi Spell Saga continues to dominate my life. As do other things. My band just finished recording everything except the vocals on our first LP, another project that took longer than expected. And I wake up nearly every morning and try to spend at least an hour working on The Novel that has consumed a decade of my life. My plan is that once everyone has their shit, I will pay to have decks 3 and the ending printed, and then we will Kickstart them to recover costs and make sure everyone who wants one sees it. I don’t give a shit about money. I don’t care if I ever make a goddamn cent on this game. It’s all going to end up going back into it anyway. Ii just want to finish the story. And now we can. I hope, regardless of how you feel or think about me, you will want to finish it to.

-mE. 913 days since the kickstarter started.

TL:DR

-packages still going out -no you have not missed yours -deck 2 the forest being printed with holofoil sleeve -deck 3 the caves being illustrated / finished -deck 4 the ending being illustrated / finished -deck 1.5 the under sky nearly finished -realkwalker ~ the discordant shore being illustrated / finished -paladin level cards part of discordant shore -everyone will have everything this year -most will have everything by july -life is hard but good

[hollywoodrefugee]

Commence Reality Check

Now that we have social networks and personalized news which reinforce our tastes and inclinations in an endless feedback loop, the concept of reality bubbles has been bantered about quite a bit; people suddenly realizing that we all do not live in the same subjective world. It’s like that twitter ‘controversy’ about the picture of the dress. Was it blue and black or white and gold? Individual perception is highly variable, and that en masse party conversation was a good illustration of this truth. And yet we continue to run the world under the premise that there is one objective reality. The lessons we learn are often so wrong-headed. Take what happened in Germany during World War II, the atrocities and mass extermination. Psychological studies like Milgram’s electrocution simulations and Zimbardo’s prison study show that, under the color of authority, most individuals will comply with heinous commands, even if they believe their actions may cause harm or death to another. Moreover, we know that genocide is not a phenomenon isolated to a particular period of time or culture. So why is it such a commonly expressed belief, to proclaim that you would never do such a thing, to wag one’s finger and exclaim, “Shame!” Or how people tend to vilify their previous stage of development. Once they’ve ascended to the next level, they’ll look down on those still stuck in that phase – as if they had never been there themselves. We keep playing this simplistic, dichotomous game of us versus them, relegating our own progress to a mere re-drawing of the line in the sand between “good” and “bad.” When will we realize the game is rigged?

With the inauguration of Trump imminent, I am reminded of the reality bubble of my youth. It was the ‘80s, the Reagan years. Preppy fashion was all the rage, with clean lines, simple prints and a highly tailored and homogenous overall look. I remember looking at pictures from the ‘70s. Pointy-collared leather trench coats, indigenous-inspired textiles, a hodgepodge of textures and patterns. And curiously, more brown people prominent. To my young eyes steeped in the ether of a more conservative era, these images disturbed me. “Why does everyone look so greasy?” I wondered to myself. The dissonance from one decade to another was sharp. In hindsight, I can see that this was because the latter period emerged in direct opposition to the former. Maybe this is a necessary part of transition, since when we are in the midst of a reality bubble, whatever fits into the current paradigm is assimilated, whereas information that doesn’t jibe is ignored or otherwise discarded. Under such a mechanism, the only way to move into a different model of reality is to disqualify the foundations of the previous era.

Is it a coincidence then, that the decade that is currently being rehashed in pop culture is the ‘80s and that we are now about to enter another period of authoritarian-leaning, “strong father” rule? During the ‘80s, we waxed nostalgic for another conservative era, the ‘50s, with movies like Back To The Future and Peggy Sue Got Married. I remember coveting a poodle skirt as the coolest costume. Whereas in the liberal ‘90s, we rediscovered the funky ‘70s, with its endless diversity and anarchic fashion rules. It speaks to me that this latest political shift has much more behind it than we are able to fathom, that the forces of this transition are part of the waves of change that are as inevitable as the turning of the seasons. I look at the Trump scions in all their Nazi-esque perfection and see the writing on the wall, how children growing up today may inhabit this new reality bubble, seeing the world from the perspective of golden thrones and coiffed hair. Whatever world we land into, at first we do not question its assumptions, for it is like the air we breathe. Leave that to the elders, who know better because they have lived through different times. But for the young, there will be no context for comparison.

I had two experiences with millennial Lyft drivers that have stayed with me. In the first ride, I was sharing with the young man my impression that society no longer feels a need to imbue creative content with values, and that by taking a valueless stance, we are not only wasting an opportunity to illustrate important life lessons, but also going down a slippery slope from amorality to nihilistic decline.

“I don’t know. What you’re talking about, that’s religion. We can’t have that in, like, movies, you know?” the young man said to me.

He has been programmed, like many in the progressive half of American society, to see any discussion of values and the need to represent ethical behavior in our fictions as a stance of the religious right. This has been the attitude of Hollywood for so long. Any time someone tries to bring up the entertainment industry’s responsibility in this regard, they typically have been dismissed as fundamentalist freaks. This has created a dead end in place of where there should be a vital debate. Hence, my driver with his thought-stopping having been triggered, surmised that the topic was outside the realm of valid discussion.

Before the election, I rode with another millennial driver. The presidential campaign seemed to be on everyone’s mind, so we got to talking about it.

“They’re all the same. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even think I’ll vote,” he said.

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” I said, nonplussed by this bizarre but common refrain.

“You know who I think must have been the greatest leader? Reagan," he said.  "Really. Why do you say that?" I asked, trying to keep my shock in check.  "I mean, the ‘80s were such a cool decade. He must have had a hand in that,” he said. I believe he was being serious.

The young man looked progressive, like the majority of people one runs into in San Francisco. And here he was talking about the Reagan, a man who removed the solar panels Carter had previously installed in the white house. A man who crushed unions, demoralizing worker solidarity and pushing the everyman into even greater economic insecurity. A man who cut funding for social services, flooding the streets with  homeless. A man who escalated the war on drugs, to the disproportionate devastation of ethnic communities. A man who was in office during the emergence of the AIDS crisis, but who never once uttered the word “AIDS” or acknowledged the epidemic’s tragic impact on the gay community.

I wish I had had the mental dexterity and swiftness to relate all this to my young driver. Alas, I stayed silent. The conservatives had done such a good job at holding onto this shiny picture of Reagan, made easier by the fact that the former actor was always photogenic and striking a pose of singular authority. So now even those who undoubtedly would disagree with his most basic policies are taken in by the revisionist history. Something feels like it’s missing from the equation right now. And here we find ourselves, on the cusp of a huge reality check.

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