#experimenting with some rendering styles n shit with this one. I need to get more experimental and try to speed things up I think

[hotdogmchiggin]

HAPPY KID ICARUS TO ALL WHO OBSERVE

Haven’t drawn any Kid Icarus stuff in a while but MAN it holds a special place in my heart. Happy birthday to one of my favorite game franchises!

BONUS: How the cake ended up on the floor

[b-e-h-o-l-d-e-r]

Ghost in the Shell (2017) review

I came into this movie with an open mind. Despite every fibre of my fanboy teenage ghost rejecting this alien reincarnation. I even set aside the whitewashing criticisms to just see if the movie can achieve something significant in spite of it.

Within roughly 5 minutes, this movie assured me I was going to be treated like a lobotomised baby. I shit you not, within seconds of a beautifully rendered manufacture sequence we watch two introduced characters in a room blatantly tell us what "ghost in the shell" means in the most uninspired way imaginable.

I wish I could tell you that this was just me getting off on the wrong foot but throughout, the movie is so uncertain in how to portray the themes, symbolisms and spiritual/ religious references that make up the brain in GitS' cyberpunk action body. The script just glitches between lame exposition by talking heads and still reflection in its precise composition but the two hardly work together.

It's like the film can't find its centre and as a result is neither a compelling action sci-fi or a meditative exploration of its philosophies. If this were Aaronofsky/ Gilliam or Bay/ Snyder perhaps (for better or worse) at least this movie would have a distinct direction to go in but instead it sits in the middle and suffers at both.

Hell, I'm sure many fans would be happy if this just took the Dredd approach. If they just accepted that the fans know the backstory and the non fans don't need it and made this simply about the Section 9 anti cyber crimes team doing their job, kicking ass n taking names, it would at least have a better chance of success amongst its primary demographic.

Instead Hollywood thinks big and wants to initiate a new franchise, origin story and all, n crams so much bullshit to try and get new audiences into it that Section 9 itself gets pushed way back in the corner. Audiences spend more time getting to know the Majors mum/s than they do with any her team.

They ditch the cerebral plot of the '95 anime whereby Major Motoko Kusanagi working within Section 9 are tracking a hacker who turns out not only to be an AI secretly created by the government to assassinate political targets but has become sentient, claims asylum and ends up merging consciousness with Major Kusanagi by the end.

Here we get Major Motoko Kusanagi of Section 9, pissed that many innocent people were murdered in experiments to create her and super shitty that her entire identity was a lie and she's actually a bratty anti establishment punk.

After all is said and done, what we get is Robocop-Lite (and thats the reboot mind you). All the nuance, intrigue and head scratching ideology that we got in the shorter length '95 anime is reduced here to identity theft and yet another unremarkable corporate business villain to cover it up. We've seen this shit SO often. I'm beginning to think Hollywood just doesn't know how to do it any other way. They weren't all bad mind you, Robocop, Total Recall, The Matrix, these are all great films but GitS in its initial reception really broke the mould and here to see it put back in the cage of "been here, done that" is so incredibly disappointing.

As far as anime/manga Hollywood adaptations are concerned, the bar is INCREDIBLY low. I'd argue the only good one amongst them is Edge of Tomorrow/ Live Die Repeat. Aside from that, every otaku since the 90's is used to being made fun of in the result of America trying to morph them into something that works amongst their style of cinema. Japan has made some great adaptations partly because they don't feel the need to repackage the story.

This GitS remake tries desperately to be on the fans side by copying much of the '95 movies look (with varying degrees of success, some scenes are very accurate in their reproduction but the hair in this film is more reminiscent of X-men (2000) and seems cosplay-ish at times).

There are few scenes lifted from the original but most get twisted to accommodate the new storyline, at which point I ask why bother? Half measures don't tend to turn many heads and whilst paying homage by really making the effort to be exact duplications in some ways is applaudable, you're giving yourself less room to do your version of it. At least then, whether the film turns out to be shit or not, I'll respect that you tried to do your own thing.

ok, casting. this argument has already been done to death and I've just about run outta energy already on the whole Scarlett Johanson thing but a few things that never seem to come up: first of all, acting wise, I gotta say it's all much of a fucking muchness isn't it? Kusanagi does not outwardly express much so its mostly a headgame for an actress with the chance to throw in some subtleties in the voice acting.

I don't really like Scarlet Johansson's performances but that its preposterous for anyone to come to the conclusion that her resume would land her this gig is a bit of a stretch. Do people realise how rare it is to find an A-list celebrity that has an extensive list of both highly demanding physical action blockbusters and subtle minimalist detail performances? Of course they are going to cast her. Before anyone throws ME personally into somehow being against ethnic minorities in blockbuster films (which would be absurd for anyone who knows me) '95 GitS director Mamoru Oshii also gave his stamp of approval.

They really tried with the marketing to dodge the bullet by just not bringing it up but it's really not dealt with well in the film and leads to some pretty fucking awkward moments for a racial debate charged audience to watch.

I would have preferred the role to go to a Japanese actress but remember, this is Hollywood and if a studio is gonna push bringing THIS film out, you bet your bottom dollar that they're going with someone that is a household name in America.

The only internationally known Japanese name out there right now is Rinko Kikuchi (who to date has 2 American films out there, both not big successes). I love most of her films and there ARE a few other Japanese actresses I would love to see in the role but Hollywood studios are not gonna bank on the success of Japanese films. Hell, the fact that they put Takeshi Kitano in bit part in this movie is as far as they are willing go to get in on that market. Few seem to point at his casting as some kind of justification and I laugh quite hard. Seriously, you're gonna give this guy (who's acted AND directed in over 20 brilliant films) a few minutes of screen time and applaud that as some kind of cultural milestone?

Which brings me to the big casting shame that NO ONE is fucking talking about because they're so caught up with the Johansson shit. Aside from Kusanagi, there are 6 Japanese members of the Section 9 taskforce. How many are Japanese? Kitano, yes. Who else? Saito. Did you remember him? He's the guy that snipes the helicopter at the very end of the film. You see his face for like 10 seconds. Pretty big step in casting mulitculturally, right? Don't get me wrong, the cast IS incredibly multicultural. We got actors from all over the world pretending to be Japanese:

A Danish guy as Batou A Chinese guy as Togusa An Australian as Ishikawa A Zimbabwean as Borma

Why keep the names?! Just call them whatever, it doesn't matter. You don't give them anything important to do anyway. Have a mulit-ethnic team but when they're all speaking clearly in their national accents and supposed to be portraying Japanese characters, THAT'S what should really piss people off because THESE roles could have gone out to Japanese people and it would not have even been a risk for the studio.

Ultimately, the one real positive thing I have to say is a great job for the WETA production team on some fantastic animatronics and moulds...that's pretty much it. Shame it couldn't be in a better film.

- dug out from the depths of https://letterboxd.com/Do_oM/

[cynicalkairos]

Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting

CHAPTER ONE

Series Summary: Still early in their relationship, Ted and Henry experience another of their first times, only this time is not as pretty as previous firsts. This is the tale of their first fight. Prepare for the angst.

Chapter Summary: Everything seems normal, right? Wrong.

Warnings: Language, Arguing, General yelling, lots of anger, and self-destruction

Word Count: 1074

A/N: Title from Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting by Elton John. This was supposed to be shorter, but look where we are. I wrote some Tedgens angst, but hey, there’s some Paulkins cuteness (briefly. this is an angst fic). Don’t worry, there be some fluff later, but nOT TODAY! More chapters will be up at later times. I just wanted some angst, but like in moderation cause I love y’all too much for that.

Previous || Next

As normal as living through the apocalypse can be, this morning seemed to be the epitome of it. The sun poured through the window and caused Emma to stir. Blinking her eyes at the brightness of the surroundings, she looked beside her and noticed that Paul was still asleep. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before leaving the warmth of the bed.

Emma then padded toward the bathroom in a slow trek across the room as to not disturb Paul and partially out of her still sleepy state. Upon entry, she moved to the mirror and evaluated herself. Her hair was in somewhat of decent shape and it’s not like she was going anywhere, so decided to put her hair up in her signature style and proceeded to the shower. After she finished and brushed her teeth, she went back into the bedroom. She changed and thought to herself about how normal the day began.

Until she went downstairs.

From about halfway down the stairs, she could hear arguing coming from the kitchen. Usually, the mornings were mostly silent as almost no one, except the professor and herself, were morning people. However, there was evidently some commotion happening in the kitchen.

“You should be thanking me for getting rid of that shit! It was disgusting!” Ted yelled, flinging his arms up in the air in frustration.

Emma couldn’t say that she was surprised that Ted was arguing with someone, but she was surprised when she discovered that the opposing force was Henry. As far as she remembered, even in the most irritating situations or when dealing with the worst students, she had never seen him as livid in her life. He was always was the one who kept a cool head and used logic to ease the other person.

This Henry was unexpected. She could tell that he was not just frustrated but agitated as well. His face was entirely red and his hands were balled into fists so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Emma also could not forget the look of pure hurt in his eyes. She sensed that Henry did not want to argue with Ted, but his partner was persistent and Henry was dramatic. And both were too prideful to let the other win.

“That ‘piece of shit’ that you so kindly discarded of took me ages of exploration into the town to obtain,” Henry responded with a tone that permeated sarcasm.

“Yeah? For what?” Ted moved his hands until there was little space between them. “One tiny piece of goo?”

“How many times do I need to explain this to you? I needed that specimen to work on the cure for the--”

“You mean, the cure that you’ve worked on for weeks with no progress?” Ted interrupted and stared blankly into Henry’s eyes. “Because, the way I see it, it’s doing jack shit to improve anything!”

Henry opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Emma watched as his eyes shifted from the previous sadness to anger. In a quick moment, before she could stop him, Henry pushed himself away from the counter and moved closer to Ted, while saying, “At least I’m trying to do something, Ted! From what I recall, all you—” He jabbed a finger into Ted’s chest. “—do is sleep, drink, and bother me. I work my ass off trying to develop a way to stop the fucking world from succumbing to those aliens! Hell, I went back out there and risked my life to get that ‘piece of shit’ that you took it upon yourself to dispose of. So, don’t you dare tell me that I don’t do anything for you or anyone else for that matter!”

Silence.

No one bothered to move a single inch. Emma wanted to interfere and stopped the whole situation, but the coffee maker signaled that the coffee finished brewing and Ted looked at the machine. He walked over and grabbed his mug of coffee, turning back to Henry, adopting an eerily calm tone. “Well, don’t mind me. I’m just going to do what I do best while you shove that fucking tree further up your ass.”

As Ted walked past him, Henry turned and moved to follow him, all anger removed from his features and replaced with regret and sadness. “Ted, wait—”

“No, I don’t want to bother you anymore.”

With those words, Ted stormed off upstairs to anywhere but where he knew that Henry would be. Henry’s eyes watched him the entire way, wanting to say something without the ability to do so. Tears began streaming down his face and he slammed his clenched fist into the countertop next to him with full force, two distinct and clear snaps resounding from the collision. He cradled his hand with the other rapidly, as his face displayed a mixture of emotional and physical pain.

Emma was stunned and could not move to help. The shock from the argument and Henry’s consequent actions rendered her speechless. It wasn’t until the professor turned around that he noticed Emma was even in the room. Emma gasped and felt her heart shatter when she saw Henry’s state of complete agony in his face, his eyes, and his entire body. When he saw her, he straightened his back and tried to clean himself up, accidentally hitting his hands against the counter again. Pretending everything was fine, he said, “Emma, I didn’t see you there. Would you like some—”

“Cut the crap, Hidgens,” Emma interrupted. “I saw everything.”

Henry stopped talking and sighed, his physical state once more reflecting his emotional one. Emma walked over and pulled him into a hug, standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck comfortingly. Henry froze momentarily and then gingerly returned the hug. He placed his head on her shoulder and quietly cursed when the sobs overcame him.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” she reassured him, before removing herself from his arms. “Let’s go fix up your hand.”

“No, no, I assure you I can fix it myself, Emma.”

“I know you can, but it was a statement, not a question.”

Henry sighed and relented, too much so in pain to fight back. When they turned to leave, a very confused and drowsy Paul stood in the way. He looked between Henry’s teary and red face, Henry’s badly fucked up hand, and Emma, before saying, “What did I miss?”

———

A/N: Hope y’all liked it! Again, this is another idea I wrote instead of sleeping (and edited the next day).

I’m sorry, Hidgens, but somebody’s gotta do it. And I had to do it to ‘em. 

If you have any questions or anything you want to see, let me know. I’m down with mostly anything.

[honorthymunn]

Enough is Enough...when I have  no sensitivity and rarely around me...

Enough is fucking enough when I have to try to remove my own sutures, when I have to stop and breathe almost passing out just to get up the hill to the hospital which has no bus route.

When Doctors upon Doctors need an emergency contact and a support person and I just leave it blank...looking down as I whisper there is no one.

When I cannot even know the littlest yet to me most precious bits and pieces of Chloe as my oldest always states “Not Right Now Mom”...the right now never comes & my soul survives for the thought of her.

Elle, I am at her mercy for she has the info that could save me...My No Matter What promise to Chloe has loosened that noose on the tree when even hanging failed me.

I feel forsaken expected to laugh through the losses, walk hills faster with cancer, not worry, be scared, complain, reach out...anything cuz it interrupts her happiness. 

So as Ive mastered suffocating in silence, in there again...at the mercy of the key-holder to what little left can ease the lack of breath shall it be a time she uses that key when nothing is going on in life if she has a minute.

The silent rage, sufferings, sacrifices and even simple needs will be here suffocating within me as a slowly fade. 

My mother tortured me for almost a lifetime and still I honored her.  My name was on her doctors list, I made time for her appointments, took care of her, bathing her, even the sacred act of tending her feet. 

Although broken...her fears were eased as I digested her regrets and anger with little acknowledge until days before the end.Then I rendered my greatest gift ensuring she was not to die alone.

I took my own soul breathing it into her for what seemed like hours.  Not even a thought crossed me as i am on ground zero with EMT courageous n selflessly giving her all the beautiful heartfelt words of worthiness so she got to feel that love, that honor...instilling her worth.

I divinely carried her soul through the realms of her passing.  All this...to give her everything she refused me...her soul set a free.

Me accepting silent suffocation with little to no chance of ever relief...

All the while being assaulted on a soul level by an ungrateful younger brother who’s memory obviously vacated; attacking the one soul who threw herself in front of gunfire, violence, trauma

...even putting myself between him & one of Daddy’s Druggies who was like a beast sliding a knife up my 3yr old brothers neck just glaring as if I would scare and run.

Instead I boldly came face to face with Wild Bill his knife blade set to shred my baby brother’s head as he so innocently lied asleep.

That mutherfucker said “Someone’s head is being cut off here & now...Who’s It Gonna Be?” i swear the devil leaped out of his eyes testing my honor, my will and my love for my dear brother. 

Swift as a wolf I raised my head up to him as I pushed my neck up high silently declaring...Then take me. Raising his Rambo style knife to my throat I never shifted my gaze...letting that bitch know you’ll have to behead me taking my life while you look into my fearless eyes.

Suddenly as if a ghost appeared his eyes where scared and he startled pulling back that blade before he jumped out Lil Frankie’s bedroom window onto the back storage & off into the night.

Hearing my mother screaming down the stairs rocking back n forth with ambulatory aid. I confronted her in disgust stating “What are you so freaked out & scared?  Mom...”He pulled a gun on me”...again her needs

... so trying to inform her; he not only put a gun to my head in the hallway that night ...he almost killed my brother Frankie yielding a knife against his throat which was about the size of his 3yr old head...was as futile as expecting her to be a mom.  

Springwood would force me to be fearless, protecting my Lil brother’s sheltering their pain by always throwing myself into danger to be the shield. 

My dad was always huddled in some corner all scary like with a spoon that I guess held his drugs, lighting it over a glass of water.  I was so scared & frantic that by chance if I didn’t watch over my brothers. my dad’s drug uses, and missed a cup of that water it could kill one of my brothers. 

Well over a year I got up at 5am going through everything rinsing out all glasses of water also hiding residue. Fearing my Lil bros, unaware of the danger could expose themselves to it or worse drink one of Dad’s drug glasses of water. 

No one knew of this besides my therapist, until confronting my mom prior her passing and now...in this random therapeutic rant.

One morning i awoke just a few minutes later than usual...knowing my bros were up early too I ran down the stairs into the kitchen.

Hence my worst fear...my cute Lil bro Marvin wearing my purple polo shit, with his cute cheeks, freckles and red poofy hair...was already in the kitchen taking an almost full drink from one of dad’s cups...

I panicked and instantly reacted by slapping him in the face with my right hand so hard the blow forced the water to spurt out his mouth.  I barely saved him, ashamed I didn’t get to that glass...this moment created a trauma so deep it haunts me even now. 

It was Not ..doing whatever I could to care & protect my bros not caring of my expense, as I’m the big sister if I didn’t take this job on they’d be scared, unable to protect themselves from the violence and trauma I so vigilantly & desperately tried to shield them from.

It was the look on Lil Marvin’s face...in sheer shock...traumatized by his big sister...and why she slapped him so suddenly when he did nothing wrong...that look  of despair  left me broken silently screaming what the fuck is wrong with my parents?”

...I couldn’t explain to Marvin or Frankie why I did that, They were too young to understand plus keeping them from seeing/knowing all the bad things going on was my job. 

Trauma allows little memory of my plight, never telling them I often wondered if they thought I was a bad big sister...My Mom’s death last Dec. 2016 swiftly assaults me with that answer.

My whole childhood seemed in vain; as Frank verbally shattered the few patched up pieces of my existence. Especially him, I was devoted...

my parents left my brothers with this weird couple to watch them a few hours - lack of care - me not there - lead to a huge physical trauma to my Frankie.

One full leg was shattered, his pelvis broken and the upper other leg broken as well.  He was in a near full body-cast for almost a year, only 4, mom & dad couldn’t keep him safe...so big sissy was determined to keep him cared for. 

We lived in the projects and since mom barely made meals and we had little food most times. I would take Lil bros over to the rec center for free lunch every day. 

There was this tight left/right/then left fenced entrance...no other way could we get in.  So bis Sissy proudly smiled as she patiently and strongly carried her Frankie, in full body-cast which also had a bar connecting the legs to keep the core in place

...all the way from their apartment which was very far (in kid glasses) to that rec center for his daily lunch.  Sometimes they’d run out and I gave up mine so my Lil bros would feel good & strong. 

Relentlessly, for months, every day 1x or more severely struggled successfully getting Lil frank through that damn gate. He’d be hot(it was summer) in that cast and frustrated so I’d tell him don't worry little brother were gonna get through this gate and every time the struggle was worth it.

The trauma not only physically stunted him as he would have to re-learn everything, yet psychologically as well...he couldn’t talk saying words trying to get his point across.  Sissy put on her teacher hat and sure a shit Frankie was talking again. 

I also saw him as my savior...due to many violent scary experiences all occurring at night where I put on my Momma Bear hat giving myself in hopes I could spare them of the suffering and pain.

I was terrified of darkness w/out light. Laying in my bed paralyzed, too afraid to move as I could not see my surroundings...

I would cry “Frankie...Frankie...Frankie”; and that adorable red headed stunner at 2/3/4 yrs of age...would run into my room turn on my light...so I felt safe.  We would fall asleep laughing and telling stories.

I prayed every night silently making my plea to God, that if he could put any pain or struggles my Lil bros may face on me to weather.  I also prayed that if I have kids please please please help me save them from ever experiencing my type of sufferings.

I, being a child naively tried to make a pact with God.  I would take all this pain, all this suffering, all the severe scary abuse and be brave always in exchange for giving my Lil bros a fighting chance at life.

I insisted he gave me any experience that would scare or hurt my Lil bros,  as my scars to bear. Always reminding God my future family will be everything our family was not and my kids would never be abused in ways that I did.

Thinking back my thought process could only be unconditional love & hope for my Lil bros to not see what I saw, felt what I felt, experience what I experienced as I was already damaged goods but the boys...we can save the boys...right God?

Later in life i struggled with God...as Marvin was into gangs and angry at the world...then Frankie was just used as another player in this world’s sick selfish games

...everyone & everything to this day is shadowed by Frankie’s acts, being still a child 11/12, was acting out his abuse.  I didn’t blink and protected Frankie from the backlash, injustices and judgements these acts would bring. 

Even risking my own children defending his honor... This was important to me as I saw things bad scary things mom n dad even with friends used to make him do.

These struggles my brothers endured in my eyes were supposed to be on my shoulders, and as Big Sissy I personally blamed myself for their sufferings...believing i failed somewhere along the line

...and God had failed on 1 of only 2 prayers I prayed for nightly since I could remember...I hated him...Crossing his name out of every spiritual book I would buy...eventually learning many paths all led me back to Him.

For years I have suffered immensely feeling my failings to take better care of him earlier in life was why...now...in my greatest tragedy...i’m nothing but a piece of trash left on some dark lonely road in Ocosta.

..My son Sage, losing everything for an imminent noble plight, my breakdown suffocating silently as no hand reached my way.  I was in this alone and with every missing of the mark; Frank would judge me, looking down at me, denying such; yet he either was blind to his own behaviors or this infliction of shame upon me is intentional.

The moral to the story, better stated stories’... on most levels is still up in the air.

My mom’s death... compounded with Frank’s, almost demonic in nature, verbal and non verbal abuse is long-suffering.  Perhaps the Devil has been sneaking upon him years now...

Instantaneously when mom died, so did any goodness in Frank.  Possessed, creating chaos on sacred ground, refusing Moms children, grandchildren, family and friends any sort of closure...In respect for impending legal actions I won’t prevail any further details...

In a short time span; I lost my only real longtime girlfriend and coworker to a tragic death, soon after my Kelly who glitters died in her sleep...then my mom died - devastatingly so did my brother frank...

Another child taken (via brotherly love)  ~ My Sissy...my heart just cries out for her daily...constantly looking, searching, praying God will at least... bring My Sissy back.

My soul decided any hope of some family besides personally was dead. My safe place gone...

I always felt content knowing that If; Life May Again Rip Me 2 Shreds...I had Momma’s Compound, with the Satanic Scary Ritual Grounds & old creepy mossy forests

In Frank’s eyes; its a garbage dump hoarders compound...and by golly...against all consciousness, Mom’s rights, her will, the beneficiaries, that property, and all her items would be pillaged, dishonored, and by legal standards;  straight up fuckin irrevocably damaged