#i keep saying it but this is barely an abridged series anymore

[sparkytheandroid]

ABOUT NEW 50% OFF CONTENT

Hey sorry to get your attention like that, kind of a scummy move but bare with me a few moments. I’m the other person who made 50% Off, Sparky the Android, I also voiced Haru and Rin and some other small things. People usually just call me PJ now cause I don’t really make content anymore. Speaking of content Alex, Octopimp, decided he was going to make some new 50% Off content this past week and I would just like to explain some things as to why this is a real legitimate slap in the face to me personally. I want to stress that I was not sexually abused, physically abused, or in any major danger in my long creative partnership with Alex, he was just a scumbag who acted like an asshole and treated me really poorly over the course of the show forcing me to eventually quit. I was willing to just walk away from this stuff. Close the door, yknow? Get some closure but Alex seems intent on opening it by posting new 50% off content without talking to me about it first in any capacity. I have not spoken to Alex in several years but I was and always have been an equal creative factor in 50% Off, so him releasing new content without me feels especially insulting.   Alex came to me ten years ago asking if I would be interested in making an abridged series at the time because I had a background writing comedy and went to school for film. This was under the pretense of an equal partnership. We’re both funny, I’m a good writer and a decent voice actor, Alex is a decent writer and a good voice actor. He bought me my first voice acting microphone and we set to work developing the show with me refining a lot of our ideas into actual scripts to read from. As the series progressed I started taking on the larger writing work and Alex the larger editing work. Episodes went from 4 minute goofs (the original concept) to more longform almost 20 minute episodes at a time where characters had their own throughlines and stories progressing. It was a large task for the two of us, especially the difficulty of editing for Alex specifically. I don’t want any of this to seem like I did all the work, or that I never fought with or insulted Alex because that’s far from my point. Both of us were supposed to be partners but Alex consistently treated the show as SOLELY his in increasing amounts. I had to ask him to stop saying things like “I sign your paychecks.” or to stop insulting me in videos when he would add in insults against me without talking to me about it first. I can take an insult! I wrote some content insults about Alex too! But I was always up front and he would slip his insults in, or little jokes that were not in my scripts, without ever talking to me about them I would see them in the video premiers. He consistently minimized my involvement, I had to argue with him to get my name on the end slate, I wrote the theme rap, I wrote 90% of the material, I wrote our dumb tshirt commercials, the show is unequivocally so much of MY VOICE and I was begging to get a little more limelight or recognition. Alex took guest appearances at cons without talking to me. We did a panel at anime expo where HE was the guest and when I asked him about a badge to get into the con he informed me that he was giving the other pass to his girlfriend at the time. And while he did end up purchasing me a new badge to try and make good, just the act of not thinking that that badge should have been mine was so insulting. When we went to funimation he consistently bore it down on me that i was LUCKY that he flew me out so we could go to Funimation even though he would not be going in the first place without my scripts and voice. He made content without talking to me. He kept me at arms length in an arrangement that was supposed to be equal and I never spoke about it publicly because even a small amount of internet fame warped my little idiot brain and I wanted to keep being famous and cool on the internet. 

I never saw our official earnings numbers or even had access to the channel and took it on blind faith that I was being fair. When I quit the show because it was seriously becoming a real detriment to my mental health I walked away from any earnings the show would make after. 

It sucked. It sucked because I wanted to make more of the show. I wanted to finish season one. I promised people I would. It sucked because for some of it I was having fun! I was going to voice actor parties and people were paying attention to me. Selfishly I thought I could right the ship and turn it into a real career but I know that was never really an option. And it sucked because Alex and I WERE friends. I did some of my best material with him. Times hanging out with him where he was a genuine person were great. And I tried so many things! I realized arguing with him wasn't working so I figured it must be my fault. I tried being more supportive of him, supporting his streams, cheering him on at game tournaments, etc. But he just kept using me and the people around him to further his career. I just couldn’t take it anymore and I took the only ownership I really could and I walked away. The show stopped and, I’m sorry to the people who loved it, I think it should have stayed stopped. Nagisa is a fuckin racist caricature, one I actively contributed too regardless of the actions I took to make Nagisa smarter, more artistic, less of a one note joke about drugs and crime. Hell his final speech about how he felt about fetishizing MLM content at the time was feelings I WAS HAVING as a person coming to real terms with their queer identity. Alex is not a queer person! I am! I gave that speech to Alex to perform. I gave him MY VOICE. But it's still a racist caricature rooted in the past that is my fault for perpetuating.  

And again I’m not an angel. I argued with Alex a lot and said a lot of mean things to his face. Some stuff I regret because I’ve spent the time after the show specifically not shoving myself down another pipeline of making online content. The attention makes me stupid and I act like a jerk! I made mistakes while doing 50% Off and I’m sure I’ve hurt people too. I’m sorry to anyone who crossed my path when I was hopped up on stupid internet fame. You met one of the worst versions of me and it was my own doing. I’m sorry to Alex even for some of the stuff I said. But Alex leveraged his position of power over me as an excuse to treat me like shit. I’m in a good place in my life and I just wanted to shut the door on all this but Alex is intent on opening it after all these years and STILL minimizing my contributions. Saying things like “I just don't have the time/resources to make full episodes anymore.” He can’t make full episodes anymore because he would have to replace my voice in them but more than that replace my entire writing style. I was willing to let him upload a short like w/e its 2023 like whatever right? Tell your joke dude I don’t care. Then he posted another acting like he was going to do even more new 50% Off stuff and a close friend spoke with him saying it wasn't a good idea and he agreed. Then he posted them on youtube! And is saying stuff like this to people in the comments.

Like implying that the only reason he can't continue to produce 50% Off in full is because he doesn’t have the energy or schedule. He can’t continue because it would be continuing without me and I know deep down he KNOWS he shouldn’t. I don’t want any fucking clout or want you to watch any of my content because I don’t MAKE any. I wasn't sexually assaulted or physically abused. Alex was just a huge dick to me and a lot of my friends and we all just let it slide for all of our own personal reasons. Hell I was content just walking away the way I did, making the split seem amicable so there wasn’t a bunch of drama, letting the show stay up, and still field questions for people curious about it. I took my gdrive with every script i ever wrote for the show and just closed the door. I’m just tired after all these years of this guy actively ignoring my involvement in the show that is partially responsible for his internet fame. Tired of him pulling this bullshit “uwu i would love to make more but i just can't!” attitude to lie about why he can't actually make more. Tired of him opening that fucking door. 

A few years ago Alex got in contact with me through a friend with an apology. At the time he sent it many streamers were facing backlash for how they treated people in the past, ones closer to Alex, so this seemed suspiciously timed. The apology I got sounded like every other apology Alex had given me over the years. A lot of avoiding his own culpability in his actions. I told him that if we were to resume being friends it would take a lot. I think anyone who makes the effort deserves the chance to be redeemed, but I had absolutely zero trust in him and thought it was unlikely that he really wanted to make an effort to be a real friend to me. After that we resumed not speaking and when people asked me about him I still tried to make our split seem at least somewhat amicable and I try to generally avoid projects he is involved in. 

Imagine my surprise when he walked out on that Jerma stream. 

I want to thank everybody who watched 50% Off honestly and truly. I think some of it still shines as some of my best work. I got to do a lot of cool things like have my voice in a real anime, and I met tons of people who cared about me and my role in the show specifically. Those people were like life preservers while I felt like I was sinking in Alex’s shadow. It’s undeniably cool to have people respond to your work so well and I know I wouldn't have seen that happen without Alex’s skills as an entertainer and producer. Alex has hurt me personally as a friend, as a business partner, and has hurt several of my other friends in various ways with his behavior. The way I felt on 50% Off became truly harmful to my mental state. I struggle personally with imposter syndrome and RSD and at the time of making the show I had gone through very little therapy to help me develop healthy coping mechanisms for those things. It was just like pouring gasoline into a fire. And I really wanted to put it all behind me for the sake of my own mental health and life because all things considered I’m happy where I am now. I’ve worked really hard on myself personally and have been so lucky to have emotionally intelligent friends help me and give me so many chances I should not have deserved. I’m fortunate to be able to support myself and my cat, and I get to make personal art I love without having to push myself into the internet game because if I’m being honest I had a bad addiction to social media. I apologize I don’t have a nice resolution for you, I’m not asking you to stop watching 50% Off, or watch anything I make, or hell even stop watching Alex’s personal content. I just felt like I had this intense pit in my stomach seeing him parade around in the other half of our two person horse costume and insist he’s wearing the whole thing. Yknow? After all these years I just wanted to say SOMETHING about the way I was really treated so I could finally get some closure for myself. Thank you for your time and again to all the people who DID support the show thank you sincerely. 

[hydrachea]

When Red Like Roses 2 kicked in in the latest UBW Abridged episode, oh my GOD.

[belladxne]

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 4

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 5,133

chapter 4: there’s a fog from the past that’s giving me, giving me such a headache

When Eijiro starfishes on the ground at the bottom of the tower, it’s not long before Inko’s leaning down over him, watching him with a fond expression. She’s content to chat with him like that for a minute or so while he gets his bearings, and when he gives an abridged, glossed-over summary of how atrocious fast travel was, she insists that if he lost his lunch he’ll just have to let her cook him a big dinner to make up for it.

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it,” he laughs gently, though he’s getting a little worried about overexerting her hospitality.

They agree again that it’s only fair he should help gather enough food for their dinner, and he figures it can’t set him back too much to hunt and forage a bit before heading for the nearest shrine. That decided, he dusts himself off from where he’d been slumped on the ground, and makes for the Forest of Spirits.

That’s where Eijiro meets his first Korok.

The little guy almost gives him a heart attack, too—Eijiro’s climbed an odd stone formation in the middle of the forest, hoping for a vantage point to hunt from, and is slightly puzzled by a large rock just… sitting there. It’s kind of huge, maybe bigger than his torso, but not quite big enough to make a good perch, so he doesn’t want to stumble over it while he’s focused on aiming his bow.

He heaves it over his head, just planning to heft it out of his way, when all of a sudden a triumphant little trumpet sounds and Eijiro drops the stone in alarm at an explosion of fairy lights in front of him. He barely hardens the dragonscales on his head fast enough to avoid concussing himself.

“Ya-ha-ha!” the forest spirit cheers, while Eijiro whines and rubs his head. “You found me!” The Korok bounces in absolute joy and utter delight for a moment, before suddenly tilting its head at him in apparent confusion. “Huh? You’re not Hestu!”

“Um,” Eijiro manages. The little spirit sounds so betrayed. “Sorry?”

“You can… see me?” the Korok asks next, apparently more concerned with this fact than with Eijiro’s apology. “I didn’t know your kind could see the children of the forest!”

“I… I guess I didn’t either?” Eijiro answers. It’s probably not strictly true—it’s more like the case of him being dragonblooded. He knows what a Korok is, recognizes one on sight—he’s probably seen them before? But he hasn’t thought about it at all, hadn’t even thought about their existence or the potentiality of meeting one, so he may as well have been blind to them before now.

“Wow!” the little plant cries, awed. Eijiro is glad to see that the betrayal has been left in the past. “You must be very special! Like the Deku Sprout!”

“Thanks?” Eijiro says, and it occurs to him that most of his contributions to this conversatiion have been in a confused and questioning tone. Might as well keep up the streak. “Um, and what is that exactly?” He feels like he should know. The term sounds familiar, like a mental sensation of a word being right on the tip of his tongue.

“Not what,” the Korok gasps, scandalized. “Who! The Deku Sprout is a person! We Koroks love the Deku Sprout. He’s the Great Deku Tree’s successor, and he’s wonderful!”

Oh. Of course—with that, the information does come flooding to mind. A long chain of heroes chosen by the Goddess Farore, with Her blessing passed down between them, tasked with protecting Her creations. Nature in particular, but She’d created all life in the land and this chosen hero was meant to look out for all of it, accordingly. Her magic would grow in them, keeping them strong and youthful until it would begin to overtake them, and they would have to settle in one place as Her magic transformed them into a giant tree—the Great Deku Tree.

And then they would pick another hero worthy of Farore’s blessing—someone to receive a mere sprout of their power, to store and cultivate on their own as they protected the land. That was the origin of the name Deku Sprout, but that name for them was probably more popular among creatures of the forest than regular Hylians. That was why it hadn’t been immediately familiar.

He was pretty sure Hylians had preferred other titles for the role, but the current Great Deku Tree, a legendary hero named All Might, had taken so long to choose a successor that most had forgotten the legends, and the titles with them. Eijiro could vaguely remember that there were tales of how All Might had prolonged his retirement and transformation for so long that he’d gone into his last few battles with bark already overtaking his skin.

“Oh—you’re right, sorry, sorry.” Eijiro nods his acknowledgement and understanding of the Korok’s words. “But… you said I’m like him? I don’t... think I’m the Deku Sprout.”

“Of course not!” The Korok uses a tone that makes it sound like he’s trying to explain a very simple concept to a very silly small child (and the irony is not lost on Eijiro), like Eijiro’s not understanding him on purpose. “The Deku Sprout is in the castle!”

“In… there?” Eijiro asks somewhat dubiously, nodding his head in the direction of Hyrule Castle, though their view is blocked by all the trees in the way. The place doesn’t exactly seem hospitable, clearly.

“Oh, yes!” the forest spirit chatters, clearly eager to gush about this topic. “He’s a hero, Mister! He’s protecting all of us! He’s been fighting the Calamity for a long, long time, but he’ll be back soon! All Might said it won’t be long anymore, and then he’ll come back to the forest.”

In the castle? Holding the Calamity off? “Huh...” Eijiro manages, but it comes out weak and distant to his own ears, as his thoughts race. The voice, his voice, he knows it’s coming from the castle—is that what the voice has been doing, too? It makes sense—he hadn’t said as much, really, but he was asking for Eijiro’s help, and he’d said he was waiting and that the monster was regaining strength. A long time… was he fighting All for One for all of those one hundred years?

“Um, I gotta... go...” he tells the Korok distractedly. He’s got a lot to think about now. For a moment he almost wonders, are his voice and the Deku Sprout one and the same? But, Farore’s associated with green, not golden light, and besides, nature powers wouldn’t let someone talk to him in his head. Unless they would, but it wouldn’t make any sense. So… are they in there together, then?

“Okay!” The Korok seems oblivious to how lost in thought Eijiro has become, dancing excitedly from foot to foot. “But wait! If you run into Hestu, please return this to him.”

Eijiro’s not sure where the seed that the Korok produces came from, since it’s not like the little guy has pockets, but he takes it and stares at it blankly. It’s… literally just a seed. There’s probably a lot of others like it. He has no idea why he’s being tasked with this. “Um… okay? But I don’t know who Hestu is.”

“Doesn’t matter! You’ll know him if you see him. You can’t miss him!”

Eijiro figures he might as well just accept it.

He returns from hunting with three Korok seeds in his pockets, and two foxes that he’d managed to catch—which he skins and cuts up for Inko to begin cooking into stew before he finally steels himself for the next shrine. Inko thanks him warmly and sees him off, but there’s something tense in her demeanor.

Her eyes seem tight with worry, but when Eijiro tries to ask what’s wrong she just waves him off and makes him promise to be safe. He doesn’t hesitate to give her his word—he couldn’t bear to make her worry, but really, as uneasy as he is about the shrines, he knows he can handle them.

The ruins aren’t far from Inko’s home at all—honestly, he’s had to pass them at a distance, a bunch. It doesn’t take him long to make his way to them, and they’re surrounded by… odd shapes of some sort, the kind he’s seen dotted around the Great Plateau in several places, but this is the closest he’s actually gotten to any of them. They’re all tarnished and moss-covered, too much so to make out what they might have looked like once, and he can’t figure out what they were for.

Not statues, surely, because their positioning is too random and too haphazard. The only thing he does know, is now that he’s close enough to make out details, they fill him with the most visceral unease and dread he’s ever felt in his life.

He spends a solid minute staring at one, throat dry and palms clammy, before he manages to convince himself to inch closer. There’s no reason he should be so—so—so scared shitless by a hunk of lifeless material. They’re stationary. What’s his problem?

Man up, he chides himself, swallowing roughly as he pokes around one. It’s… not so bad when he gets in close, because he can focus on just the area right in front of him, and ignore the whole shape. It’s made of metal, he realizes, knocking on a scuffed and dulled part of the material and hearing a hollow and muted clang as he does so. Squatting down, he leans a hand against the moss-covered material and peers into one of several openings near the bottom of the shape.

As he runs his hand around the opening, brow furrowed in thought as he tries to piece together what these things are and why they agitate him so much, something comes loose in his hand. Pulling it out, he stares at—a screw?

Something similar had come out of the automatons he’d been forced to fight in the last shrine. Looking up at the shape again, Eijiro bites his lip, his unease building again. Was this another machine just like those? Near the top, he now realizes there’s a circular indent that—that looks like the eyes of the automatons, where their lasers had fired from.

Eijiro blanches.

He can’t imagine what machines of this size would do—what kind of damage that eyes of that size could cause. He grips the screw he’d pilfered tightly to keep his hand from shaking, and suddenly his fear doesn’t seem as ridiculous or confusing to him now. He’s just glad they’re all clearly defunct. Taking in a shaky, steadying breath, Eijiro stands and backs away quickly, regardless.

He just… doesn’t want to be around them. That’s all.

He skirts around it as he moves further past the battered and half-collapsed walls of what the map tells him used to be the Eastern Abbey. Skirting through one opening, he makes his way into an area clearly far more open than it once was—there’s half of an archway in the center of the space, the only testament to whatever walls once divided this particular area. There are two more of those intimidating defunct machines lodged in the rubble on either side of that arch. Beyond them stands a complete doorway in one of the few whole walls, though its opening is sealed over with debris.

Still, these walls are all cracked and littered with ivy and plantlife, so climbing them won’t be any problem at all. Eijiro’s not worried as he makes his way forward—at least, not about how to get to the shrine. He wishes he didn’t have to walk so closely between the lifeless machines, though.

He’s hardly more than a few steps into the clearing when it happens—the machine on the right, it moves. The top of it rattles and lifts, the whole creation suddenly glowing red as it spins to face him, and then—that fucking sound, like a gong or a hand slamming down on an out of tune piano, and Eijiro—

Eijiro can’t fucking move as the eye lights up piercingly blue and stares him down. His blood turns to ice in his veins and his breath feels solid in his lungs as he tries to choke past it and every muscle in his body draws painfully tense and he can’t—he can’t—

He can’t move and can’t think and he can’t afford to run he has to stay and fight, but there’s no point it’s over he can’t do this they’re going to kill him, they’re going to kill them both, and then they’re going to kill everyone and he can’t stop it he just has to—

The eye shifts colors. The blue’s suddenly deep and dark—a line of red light beams out of it, directly onto Eijiro. A strangled gasp gets caught in his throat, and he runs. Involuntarily he scrambles, nearly tripping over his own legs. He manages to slam himself behind a ruined wall, in the same instant a white-hot beam of light flares past where he’d just been. It blasts into a wall behind him, a sob escaping Eijiro as an explosion of flame and light bursts at the impact point. It sears his skin, even fifteen feet away.

Eijiro presses himself flat to the wall, legs curled close to his chest, face buried in his knees as he struggles for breath. His heart’s pounding so painfully he thinks it’ll break his rib cage and he grips tight around his legs with one arm, his other hand gripping at his own hair tight enough to hurt.

He needs—he needs to—fuck, he has to get away from here, he can’t—he doesn’t know what that thing is but some deeply ingrained part of him must, because he still can’t control the trembling of his limbs or the stinging of his eyes. He can hear it, on the other side of the wall, a constant whirring and deep, menacing humming all paired with a mechanical grating as it turns its head back and forth, searching for him.

He has to go. He knows without trying that his sword would break on this thing before he could get any real damage done. It’s armored, heavily, and even its insides are made of metal. His sword’s fine, but he knows the difference between fine and good or even great. It could never survive an attack on that thing.

He could just… he could continue to use this wall for cover, and get as far as his legs will take him, keeping obstacles between them until he’s gone and doesn’t ever have to do this again. It would be easy. It would be easy, but…

He has to get to that shrine. He has to get off this plateau, and help the voice—fuck, the voice, he’s in the castle, with something so much worse than this stupid, stuck robot that can’t even move. Why the hell can’t Eijiro get himself together? He knocks his forehead against his knees over and over, trying desperately to manage something other than the choked, hiccuping gasps that keep escaping him.

How can—how can he even think about running away from this? If he can’t jump into action now, when it’s his own life on the line and his enemy can’t even move, how is he ever going to help anyone else? How is he ever going to face All for One? The voice… Eijiro’s going to fail him. He can’t give in here.

He still can’t even draw a full breath properly, but he can’t let it stop him. He moves to grab the hilt of his sword, starting to push himself up against the wall beside him before—before—he slumps, sliding back down the wall and onto his ass. His knees are still too weak to hold him, but even if they weren’t, it’s his resolve that failed.

Eijiro knows he can’t fight this thing. He hasn’t seen a weapon on this plateau that could even make a dent. He’s being a coward, he knows, but… but he doesn’t want to die fighting a battle he can’t win. He’ll never help the voice that way. So… so he has to figure out something else.

His mind scrambles through what he knows, trying to figure out something—any piece of information he can use. Think. He tries to comb through what just happened, to pinpoint anything…

It hadn’t targeted him right away. That’s what he realizes first. It had taken a moment, to find him, and only then did the red light flash towards him. And—and it hadn’t fired right away either. The red light had lingered on him, a strange clicking sound emanating from the machine, until a final beep. It had fired a split-second after that. But—but it also hadn’t moved. The line of red light had locked in place after the sound, while Eijiro kept moving, and then it had fired, at where Eijiro had been.

So—so if he moves fast enough…

He can get past this thing.

He doesn’t want to risk getting close to the machine, and he doesn’t want to bet his life on being fast enough to dodge only in that split-second where it can’t track him, but… there are walls littered all around them. The shrine is surrounded on all four sides. If he can just keep to cover, moving faster than the beam can focus in on him, until he can scale that last wall—it won’t be able to target him.

Eijiro has a plan. He can do this.

It goes off without a hitch, more or less, for the first sixty seconds or so. Yeah, he’s scared out of his godsdamned mind the moment he sees the flash of red, every time he sees it—but he only has to sprint through the open twice, and both times are fleeting. He makes it around a corner, out of the thing’s sight, but even as he sags with relief he refuses to believe he’s out of the woods.

The place is littered with the remains of those machines, and now he knows he needs to be wary of all of them. He finds himself at a dead end, walls around him on most sides, so he tries to loosen his muscles and gets to climbing. Despite his protesting muscles, he heaves himself over quickly.

He finds himself a little too out in the open—the machine has a line of sight on him from here, if it thinks to turn around, so he sprints again for the wall to the side of the shrine. It won’t see him from there, at least. But just as soon as he makes it, he sees—there’s another one up ahead. And it gives a shudder.

The second one lights up, its eye turning to Eijiro, and his heart stops.

His heart stops and he runs—he doesn’t freeze up this time, bolting for the wall, and he doesn’t even waste time looking for handholds. He just feels claws overtaking his hands, and he jabs them into the stone with enough force to crack it himself, making his own handholds as he claws his way up. He’s over just as the beam locks on, hurling himself past the wall heedlessly of the fall waiting.

He rolls to dispel as much of his momentum as he can, scales hardening across his skin to absorb what force he can’t, and then—

And then it sinks in. He did it. Part of him wants to whoop for joy but the rest of him is still too breathless and shaky, and he lets himself flop flat on the long grass that’s overtaken the ruins, right at the foot of the shrine. He doesn’t remember if he was the praying type before he woke up in that shrine, but he lays a hand over his pounding heart and thanks each of the Goddesses and Bakusatsuo in turn, earnest and sincere.

Ja Baij Shrine does give him another rune. It won’t get him off the plateau, but it is badass.

He can now summon bombs, two types of them, out of the slate at will. He doesn’t know how often he’ll need that, but just having the option makes him feel pretty damn powerful. Admittedly, the trial this shrine offers is just as easy—maybe easier—than the magnesis trial had been, but he keeps messing it up.

When he first comes in, the adrenaline is only just draining from his system, and all of his limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. The fear response from earlier hasn’t fully left him, either, and it makes his hands just a little shaky—the result is he keeps fumbling his grip on the bombs, not quite judging his throws correctly. Several times he has to stop to take a few deep breaths, shake his hands out, and hope for the best as he attempts the same toss he’s messed up two or three times already.

Still, he gets through it in about the same amount of time, and he endures Ja Baij’s weird purple mist and spontaneous disintegration with only some contained distaste and not outright panic this time. Progress!

When he steps out of the shrine, the same odd energy that’s been humming under his skin since the first one is there still, stronger now. He’s still unsettled by it, but—but whatever it is, the ‘strength of these monks’ spirits’, it’s supposed to help, so he tries not to let it bother him. He steps out into the beginning of sunset, and he realizes—

He’d thought there could be nothing he’d ever hate more than fast travel, and he was so wrong. Standing on the surface of the shrine, realizing he’ll have to get past those looming machines on the other side of the walls, Eijiro doesn’t have to debate long. He pulls out the slate, braces himself, and taps Oman Au Shrine on the map—it’s farther, but like hell is he going to climb down the tower a third time, in this state.

He’s in hell for all of the five seconds it takes him to be ripped across the plateau, but, hey, he doesn’t throw up this time!

Sure, he stumbles to his hands and knees as soon as he arrives, and he has to close his eyes to ride out the waves of nausea that hit him, but he doesn’t even dry heave so he’ll take the win. He takes as many deep breaths as he needs to to calm his stomach, and then he pulls himself to his feet, heading back towards Inko’s home once more.

It’s really nice, to have somewhere that cozy and safe to recoup, after all the worst of today.

Inko looks about ready to cry when he arrives back at her tiny house, two more Korok seeds in his possession. Actually, he can’t be sure she doesn’t actually start crying—he has to look away fast, just in case, before he’s in danger of his own waterworks possibly starting in response to hers.

“Oh, you’re safe, thank goodness,” she breathes, waving him in almost frantically. He can’t even get a word out before she’s ushering him into a seat at her table, and she keeps him there with a hand firmly on his shoulder, not even letting him move to dish his own meal up. She ladles the stew she’s had simmering for the past two hours or so into a bowl herself, and puts it in front of him.

He’s not sure where all the nervous energy comes from, but it doesn’t fully fade through most of the meal, even as they talk over their dinner. Every time she stands—to dish up seconds for either of them, or to grab something across the room—she finds an excuse to touch Eijiro, laying a hand on his back or shoulder. One time, she even strokes his hair, the gesture motherly and caring. It’s like she has to keep reminding herself he’s there and not hurt. Eijiro doesn’t know what to make of it.

It’s well and truly dark out by the time Eijiro finishes eating, and that’s when it finally hits him—

“Oh… I should probably figure out somewhere to camp out for the night.” He hadn’t even thought about it before, and he wishes he’d thought to get set up someplace before it was dark out. Still, he doesn’t think it’ll be too hard. It feels like something he’ll know how to do.

Inko raises her eyebrows at him. “What are you talking about? You’re staying here, of course.”

“Really?” he blurts, surprised and hesitant. “Are… are you sure? You’ve already fed me twice, and given me hair ties, and helped me out so much today, you don’t have to—”

“But I want to, and I will,” she says, firm. It’s hard to argue with her, especially with gratitude swelling in his chest, but…

“I—I really don’t want to be a burden—”

“You could never,” she insists gently, but she leaves little room for argument. “I would never forgive myself if I made you fend for yourself in your situation. You’ll stay here tonight. And tomorrow, if we haven’t figured out how to get you down from the plateau, either. I want to do this for you, and you’re going to let me, young man.”

“Okay...” He swallows, and his voice is not just a little wobbly, thank you very much. “Um… where...”

“You’ll take the bed,” she says without looking at him as she begins to gather their dishes, and Eijiro shakes his head.

“I can’t! I couldn’t make you sleep on the floor, and it’s your house!”

Inko just shakes her head, glancing his way with a warm smile. “You can. I wouldn’t be using it much, anyways. It would be a waste. Trust me, dear, getting old ruins your sleep. You can’t sleep through the night anymore, and you’ll be napping throughout the day no matter what you do. You’ll take the bed.”

“But that’s not fair,” Eijiro protests. “You keep doing so much for me, at least let me repay you by letting you keep your bed.”

Setting their stacked bowls down, Inko reaches across the table to lay a hand over his, regarding him with a fond, no-nonsense look. “Eijiro, honey, you do not have to repay me for a single thing. You deserve a good night’s sleep after the day you’ve had, and I won’t accept no for an answer. Besides, I have some things I want to work on tonight. I think I have an idea how to help you get down safely, so I won’t be sleeping much tonight anyways. I insist, and it will make me happier than any other sort of repayment you could give me.”

Eijiro presses his lips together, and he can feel a lump in his throat. She’s so kind and helpful, and he doesn’t even know what he did to deserve it. Letting him have her food, some of her things, even her bed, and on top of it all she’s planning to lose sleep working on a way to help him tonight. He doesn’t understand but he’ll never forget how much he owes her as long as he lives.

“Why—” He has to clear his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Why are you… so nice? You’re doing so much for me—and I appreciate it! I really, really do! But you don’t even know me, why...”

Inko’s expression softens, and turns just a little sad. She takes a deep breath, and the smile she offers him is heartbreaking.

“You remind me—an awful lot, actually—of my son,” she tells him quietly. She clasps her hands in front of her and her eyes grow distant, but thinking about him clearly brings her so much joy. “I haven’t seen him since he was your age, but you’re just like him. You’re both such sweet, polite boys. It’s—it’s a terribly dangerous world out there, but he’s keeping people safe, just like you want to. You both think so much about other people—and you’re so brave.”

Her voice wavers on the last word and then—and then she’s crying, tears an absolute flood, and before Eijiro realizes it he’s got tears spilling down his cheeks, too. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all r-right,” Inko says, but he can barely make it out through her tears. “Really, it is, I just—I just love him so m-much.”

“I can tell,” Eijiro says, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, but it doesn’t do much to stem the flow of his sympathetic tears. “He’s—he’s got a really great mom.”

“I have a really w-wonderful son,” she responds, and Eijiro can’t see with his hands pressed to his eyes, but he can hear that her weeping is only getting worse, and it just makes his worse in response. “I kn-know he’s thinking about m-me every day, just like I think about him. And that’s why I’m looking after you, Eijiro. I w-want to look after you the same way I’d—I’d hope someone would look after my baby. So just l-let me do that, okay?”

“Okay,” Eijiro just barely manages, his own voice wobbling and wavering just like hers. He pulls his hands away from his eyes to see her frantically trying to stem the flow of her tears with a handkerchief, but it’s not getting her very far.

“Good,” she wails, and together the two of them are a complete and utter mess.

Eventually they manage to pull themselves together, enough so for Inko to finish cleaning up after their dinner and for Eijiro to get ready for bed. He doesn’t have the heart, after all that, to argue with her further, and the complete and utter happiness on her face when he finally starts to climb into the bed makes getting past his hesitation completely worth it. He hopes that wherever her son is, he understands exactly how wholeheartedly wonderful his mother is, and cherishes her appropriately.

By the Goddesses, Eijiro hadn’t realized how exhausted he was after everything until the exact moment his head hits the pillow—he tries to stay awake long enough to plan out how to get to the two shrines left on the plateau tomorrow, but it’s in vain.

The last thing he sees before his eyes shut for good is Inko pulling out a sewing kit and something that looks like a blanket, maybe? It’s vibrant red and has the winged Triforce symbol of Hyrule on it. He doesn’t even have time to wonder how a blanket might help him get down from the plateau before sleep barrels into him with all the force of one of his newly-acquired bombs.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Reviews: True North

The Golden Compass sucks. i saw that wet fart when i was younger, on a whim, and was thoroughly disappointed. Sh*t didn’t make a lick of sense to me. That film was my first introduction to the His Dark Materials and it soured me on the entire franchise. Like most of the movie-going crowd because it flopped like a fat man into a public pool. The thing abut that movie is that it felt like another entry into the Narnia Chronicles, and abhor that franchise. I’ve hated them since i was forced to read them when i was in the third grade. They were terrible, and that was before i become aggressively areligious. Afterward? Bro. Suffice it to say, when the BBC adaption was announced, it was hard pass for me. And then my mom got HBOMax.

I was seeing a ton of ads for season two, a strong focus on Lyra and John Parry. Th more i saw of those Youtube ads, i don’t watch television anymore, the more i became intrigued. Eventually, i bit the bullet and did some research on he show, itself. Yo, i was SO glad i opted to give this thing a chance. The cast was amazing. the principal characters, all some of my favorite actors but, more than that, the plot was mad intriguing. It was so clever and unique and so far removed from Narnia wank, it could be considered anti-Narnia almost. How the f*ck did that movie get so much wrong? Suffice it to say, i gorged on that first season like a fat kid gorges chocolate cake. I finished it last night and these are my impressions.

The Outstanding

First and foremost, i absolutely have to praise Dafne Keen in this, man. She is Lyra Silvertongue, heroine and main character of the entire Dark Materials series. This success of this show rests on the shoulders of the then fourteen year old and she carries that sh*t like a champ. There is a wit and wisdom that Lyra carries which belies her age and Keen taps into that effortlessly. She played Laura Kinney in Logan a few years back, keeping pace with Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine, so i knew she was skilled in her craft but i never imagined she’s be able to carry such demanding fair, so early in her career. I’d say she was the best thing about this show but that’s not really true. The level of quality in this thing is just that profound.

Ruth Wilson plays Marisa Coulter, Lyra’s mother, and, holy sh*t, is she incredible in the roll. Look, i love Wilson, even when she is in less than quality productions like The Affair. That show was bogus. What wasn’t bogus was her stint as Alice Morgan on Luther. I absolutely fell in love with her on that show and Ms. Coulter gives me all of the Alice vibes, just far more cruel. If Alice was calculating and aloof, the Coulter is deceitfully cruel and i love every second of it. You can tell there is a sadistic streak, straight up wrath, just below the surface and Wilson captures that skin deep veneer in a gently terrifying manner.

James McAvoy comes through and delivers yet again with his detached and insidious Lord Asriel Belacqua. It’s always a pleasure seeing this man do his job and, admittedly, he’s not in this first season much but the time that he is, McAvoy dominates. This is a desperate, desperate, man who knows he is right and will do anything to accomplish his goal. This single-minded drive reminds me so much of Sosuke Aizen from BLEACH and, like Aizen, Lord Asriel literally threw away everything to achieve that goal. It’s wild seeing Professor X go full Magneto and love it!

Line-Manuel Miranda is in this as the snarky Lee Scoresby, Texan Aeronaut, extraordinaire. Look, Manuel is a brilliant artist, i can’t take that away from him. He’s exceptional in Hamilton and on the stage but that’s a completely different skill set. There is a way you have to perform, to project, on stage that doesn’t translate to film and Manuel is still trying to get a handle on that. He’s not terrible in this role, mind you, but he’s just serviceable. However, the chemistry he has with Keen is something special. You can tell they get along strongly and that genuine interactions shines through in their performances together.

The rest of the cast is just as strong, specifically Kit Connor and Joe Tandberg as Pantalaimon and Lorek Brynison, respectively. Ariyon Bakare, Clarke Peters, Anne-Marie Duff, Lucian Msmati, Amir Wilson, Ruta Gedmintas, Will Keen, and Lewin Lloyd all turn in incredibly strong performances, for what they were given. A lot of these characters deserved a bit more screen time, a bit more fleshing out, but i am okay with what we did receive. This ain’t their story, it’s Lyra’s.

I just need to take some time and praise this show for how properly gorgeous it is. I mean, the level of production on this thing is rather profound, you knew that in the opening scene during the flood, but moreso as the world begins to expand. I know a lot of this stuff is filmed on sets and what not but, my goodness, are they elaborate and detailed. That whole arctic run was brilliant. It’s particularly intriguing when you understand how well the CG effects were used in regards to budget. The whole “show don’t tell’ adage definitely comes into effect for this serial and it’s all the better for it.

I am absolutely in love with the narrative, man. Never mind the actual plot in the books, the adaption presented is one of the best I've seen in a long a while. My goodness, the world being built is so enthralling, so captivating, i hate that i slept on this show, this series, for so long. I understand that this is one interpretation of the novel events but I'm still infatuated with every second of it.

The writing in this show is on point, for sure. It feels organic, it feels real. I know this is a series of books, decades old, but that goes a long way to proving the pedigree of this adaption. This doesn’t feel out of place or trite or try hard. It works beautifully, except for when Manuel is delivering dialogue outside of his scenes with Keen, and that is a real joy to watch.

There is a distinct focus on diversity displayed throughout this show so far and i love it. This is a reflection of the world in real time and more, big budget, shows need to show this reality. The difference between this and, say, Disney Star Wars or current Doctor Who, is the fact none of the representation in Materials feels forced. It feels organic, intrinsic to a story about entire worlds. You need this level of diversity for this story to be taken even remotely seriously in the modern day and i commend the production for handling this so well.

The Okay

I’ve never read the books so i can only judge this thing on what i glean from the wiki and what i see in the show. While i am completely smitten with what has been resented, the show feels like an abridged version of what we get in the books. I know for all adaptions that’s true but this feels like a legit highlight real of the greatest hits. I can’t say for sure but the adapted screenplay feels like it’s trying to load up on plot as much as possible, in as short a time as possible. Makes for an interesting view but, as a cat who understands storytelling, it feels like a patchwork of content.

This thing has some pretty brisk pacing. Again, i don’t know from where this first series is adapted but it definitely feels like they were in kind of a hurry to get. I mean, it really doesn’t but once sh*t gets started, it never looks back at all. It feels like that, at certain times, we should have definitely sent more time on an interaction or with a relationship. Lyra’s time in the Magisterial and Bolivar, particularly, seems rushed to me.

It’s uncomfortable how many times they make Dafne get naked. Obviously, they don’t show anything and it’s all inferred but, like, gross.

The Verdict

I loved this show, man. Absolutely adored every second of it. The BBC, when it really wants to, can produce some brilliant film. Luther, Sherlock, War of the Worlds, are all favorites and now His Dark Materials can be confidently added to that list. This show is gorgeous to watch, the production values on full display. Sweeping cinematic vistas both real and composite, permeate this rather cleverly effect heavy adaption. The performances, alone are enough to keep you coming back for more but this is, genuinely, one of the most gorgeous shows I've ever seen. Speaking of performances, everyone is excellent but the anchor is definitely Dafne Keen. Her Lyra Silvertongue is the linchpin of this entire show and she bares that weight brilliantly. I forget sometimes that she’s only fifteen, especially considering the talent she with whom she shares the screen. Ruth Wilson, James McAvoy, and Lin-Manuel Miranda all have capitol roles in this first season and they relish their time on camera, especially Wilson. I’ve been a fan of hers since that brilliant run on Luther as Alice Morgan so seeing her, here, has been giving me the best type of deja vu. His Dark Materials is f*cking outstanding, man. I can gush about this thing ad nauseam but this essay would definitely turn into a novel and no one wants that. If you have HBOMax, definitely give this a go. It’s one of the best shows out, has a full eight hours to binge in season one, and another four, so far, in season two. Sh*t is dope and i highly recommend a proper watch.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 26--History

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “History.”  Ienzo gathers the stories of the survivors and presents them to Even. The effects of the darkness linger.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Even turned the manuscript over in his hand, as though feeling the quality of the paper. “I never pictured you as a soft scientist,” he said, his tone mostly unreadable.

Ienzo sighed. His vision was cut into odd little slivers; he wasn’t quite used to his new glasses, his eyes scrambling to adjust. “You’re going to be frightfully disappointed in me, but I no longer derive any pleasure or fulfillment from so-called “harder” subjects.”

Even stared at him. “Why on earth would I be disappointed?”

“I do recall a period in my life when you found my perusal of fiction a waste of time, when I could be studying.”

He set the manuscript down onto his desk. “We all know what a fool I was, back then. No.” He smiled. “The only way I’d be disappointed in you was if you were to waste your life faffing about. But you were never lazy.” He ran his finger along the paper spine.

Ienzo frowned a little. “I understand the… trepidation, you might feel,” he said slowly. “And… it is quite harrowing.”

Even’s eyes dropped, became distant. “I can only imagine what the experience has been like, for you.”

“...Gathering these stories?” He thought about it. “Not everyone is… willing to share such dark content of their hearts. I’ve had more than one door slammed in my face.” He knotted his hands together tightly. “I’d hoped that my suspicion regarding everyone’s opinion of us was mere paranoia, but some folks do feel a certain… ire. Not that I can blame them.” Some people hadn’t even let him speak to them; others were more direct.

“We don’t blame you,” one woman had said. “We know you were Ansem’s ward. But how can we trust that any information we give to you will be used for good? None of it was before.”

Others, however, had been incredibly welcoming. “If I’ve seen anything in my life, we all deserve second chances,” an older woman had said. “If you’re good in the committee’s book, you’re good in mine.”

The stories flooded his life; the losses, the difficulty to adjust to a new and alien world (had these worlds truly been here all along?), the nightmares, the darkness. Ienzo could not offer them much comfort other than an attempt at catharsis. Any attempt at more psychological treatment would be uncalled for.

Rather than hold their minds in his hands, he now held their hearts; he could only hope he could be worthy of it. “It’s… worth it, to hear their voices,” Ienzo said softly. “We… need to understand the human impact. I don’t mean the numbers.” He forced himself to meet Even’s eyes. “I have… written something of an abridged memoir, myself.”

Even digested this; his expression became pinched. Then, he sighed. “It would only make sense. You are one of the victims.”

“Victim and perpetrator in one.” He shook his head slowly, then rolled his eyes. “Seems I am fated to live in dichotomy.” He took a breath. “I have already spoken to the others. It might be valuable to give your own version of events. Not necessarily for publication.”

Even smirked. “For the good of my recovery?”

“Well, yes. You had said you were trying to write and reflect, to delineate a new identity. How is this any different? Your perspective could offer some insight to future generations, when they inevitably look back at all this.” A warm, needling pain bloomed inside of his skull, and he flinched without meaning to.

“...Record keeping,” Even muttered. “Very well. I… will consider it. Are you alright?”

Ienzo touched his temple and winced. “I had hoped these new glasses would lessen my headaches, but that appears not to be the case.”

“You’re still getting them? After all this time?” He frowned.

“Not frequently. You needn’t worry.” He forced a smile. “Take as much time as you’d like with it. I have other copies.”

“I shall, but…” Even gave him a once-over. “Do let that fiance of yours take a look at you. Apparently he’s quite competent.”

Ienzo hesitated; his engagement was supposed to have been private, but now it was something of an open secret.

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually think you could keep it under wraps? What with Dilan's inane gossiping?”

“Not… secret.” He felt his face reddening. “I don’t see why my personal life should be of interest to anyone.”

“Of course it will be, when we live on top of one another.” Even went to speak, then hesitated. “You are so… very young. So young.”

The repetition of it caused Ienzo to blush again, though no longer with embarrassment. “As nobody will let me forget. Heaven forbid I be allowed to make my own choices.”

“I don’t want you to get into something so permanent. You’re barely stable yourself.”

Ienzo bit his tongue. He took a breath to calm himself.

“Even if you were not only twenty-one, you’ve only been with him a year. I realize you are not used to the idea of permanence, but--”

“It was I who asked him.”

This seemed to throw Even. “I’d’ve--figured--”

“Demyx is very respectful of my boundaries. He would not force me into anything I did not explicitly ask for. Should it end, we will deal with it maturely. But I don’t see that happening.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke. “Do you truly want this?” Even asked. “Would it make you happy?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I am already happy.” His headache was worsening. “Insofar as I can be, anyway.”

Even considered this. “I suppose I will always see you as a… child,” he admitted.

Ienzo sighed. He tried to smile. “Par for the course when you raise someone.You were always… more my guardian than Ansem. But you must trust I am able to make my own decisions. After all, you--” He felt heat rise to his face.

“I what?”

“It was not me you came back to Radiant Garden for.”

“You know why I had to leave. Ienzo, I did not want to, but who else would’ve--”

“...I know.” He bit his lip. “Still. A note would’ve been appreciated. You needn’t protect me anymore. Especially from him.”

Even sighed. “Old habits die hard. Or so the cliche goes.”

“...Right. Well. I shall leave you to it, then.”

Ienzo made his way home slowly. He figured he was developing a migraine--not nearly so uncommon since he'd been trying to relearn magic, especially so since that stunt with the fire. His stomach churned, and he was experiencing vertigo, both sure symptoms. Demyx had left him medication. It would be a sleepy, wasted afternoon, but he’d be fine. He stumbled; to the untrained eye he probably looked drunk. His body was so unwieldy. He dug in his pocket for his keys and with shaking fingers tried to unlock the door, only to drop them with a rattling that seemed much louder than it actually was. He finally got the door open, and was more relieved than he’d like to admit to see Demyx on the couch, strumming Arpeggio idly, with a dreamy look on his face.

“Hey babe,” he said. “How was your day?”

Beans rubbed at his ankles. The touch was like a shock. He swallowed bile. “Demyx?”

The shift in his expression was immediate; Arpeggio disappeared and he all but vaulted over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel peculiar.” Not quite in his body. Not quite present.

“How?” He took Ienzo’s wrist, his pulse.

He tried to speak, but the words couldn’t come; something seemed to register in Demyx’s eyes.

“Lay down,” he said gently, easing him to the floor. The hardwood seemed unusually cold. Some wadded fabric was shoved under his head, his vision strange and sheeny. Why was he on the floor and not on the couch, the bed? “This is going to feel warm,” Demyx added.

Ienzo felt hands on either side of his face. It wasn’t just warm; it was hot, burning, but he was no longer able to tell him anything.

“...Right,” he heard Demyx say. “Right.”

Ienzo hoped he would explain.

“Hold still,” he heard instead. “Try to relax.”

How could he? He could barely move. The heat moved through his scalp, deep within (the brain didn’t have nerve endings; where was this pain coming from?) and sharpened into agony.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said. “Just--”

As suddenly as the pain came, it faded, replaced by heat for what seemed an eternity, until it subsided, a cold so intense he shivered, but at least his body seemed to be under his control again. Ienzo blinked. “What--”

There were tears in his eyes, Ienzo noted. “I’m going to put you to sleep for a little while,” he said thickly. “I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

The heaviness of Sleep overtook him. When he woke, he was in his bed, and it was dark. A thin film of sweat crawled along his skin. Ienzo sat up slowly. He turned on the lamp at the bedside. “Demyx?” His voice was scratchy. He thought he heard something in the bathroom, water.

The door opened. “Should’ve figured you’d wake up the second I turned my back,” he muttered. “Had to pee for hours and of course--” He bit his lip, then crossed over to Ienzo. His hands were still a little damp when he took his vitals.

“I don’t suppose that was an ordinary migraine,” Ienzo said.

“Try not to talk,” he said, without making eye contact. “There’s not an easy way to say this.”

He felt his anxiety spike.

Demyx sat at his feet. Now that he was in the light, Ienzo noted how terrible he looked; pale, sweaty, and flushed. Exactly how he always looked when he used too much magic, too fast. “So you had a stroke,” he said. He bit his lip.

He knew he was supposed to be quiet, but he spoke without meaning to-- “No, I was just ill--”

“Ienzo, shut up, please.” His eyes were watering, and he blinked, trying to drive the tears away. “The symptoms are… really similar,” he said slowly. “Sometimes you can even mistake a small stroke for a bad migraine. But it feels… different, inside your head. It’s a good thing that I was there, because I was able to fix it right away. Even luckier that I literally was just studying this a few days ago.” He hiccuped. “You’re fine now, but I…” The tears broke free. “How long have we been ignoring what’s been forming inside you? You’ve had headaches for a year. A year .” His previous professionalism was slipping, and he held a hand over his mouth, muffling sobs. “It could’ve… triggered a brain bleed, it could’ve--”

“It’s not your--” Seeing his expression, Ienzo cut himself off.

“Aerith’s coming to look at you,” he said. “In case there’s anything else I missed. Try not to… move, or talk, unless you really need to.”

Ienzo settled back against the sheets, reeling. He tried to take Demyx’s hand, to give it a reassuring squeeze, but he was shaken. These headaches of his had all along been part of a larger problem; he’d had a feeling, especially since the last time he’d blacked out. He couldn’t blame them for not understanding what it was. The way the will affected the body was not something anyone studied. There was no way to qualify how it worked. Maybe there hadn’t been any other signs that could be fixed, no sign a scan could pick up, anyway.

The door creaked open. “I had to… check on something,” Aerith said to Demyx. “I think I figured it out. You look terrible.”

“I’ve never done the spell before.”

“Have some ether. I’ll take it from here.” She approached Ienzo. Her braid was frizzy, like she’d done it in a hurry. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. I think. Sleepy.” Would shorter, clipped sentences help?

“No pain or numbness anywhere?” She prodded him.

“No.”

“I’m going to look at you. It’s going to feel warm.”

Ienzo flinched, bracing himself for the same terrible heat, but the sensation was gentle.

“Well, there’s nothing left ,” she said, to Demyx. “He feels more or less healthy--”

“Then what was this?”

“An accumulation.” She looked at Ienzo. “The people I work with… haven’t normally been through so much.”

He chanced a question. “Like what?”

She drummed her fingers together. “...Permutations of being,” she said slowly. “From darkness, to nothingness, back to light. Putting your body through all those changes… the stress is going to sow seeds that won’t emerge for years. And considering you wore down your will twice… It must’ve exacerbated the symptoms.” Aerith frowned. “Think of it like… a person who really doesn’t take care of themselves. Will you feel it at twenty? No. But suddenly at forty you keel over with a heart attack. I’m hoping--and what I read supports this--that once you reach and get through the crisis point, you won’t have to deal with it again. Essentially reset to zero with magic. Demyx.”

He looked up, drying his eyes.

“You’ve been through the process twice. I want to look at you too. Maybe not now. But tomorrow.” She twirled the end of her braid. “It’s actually kind of… common. So many people here have gone through so much stress, and the darkness, too. Of course that’s going to affect the body.”

“Will I be okay?” Ienzo asked.

She squeezed his hand. “He did a good job. I’ll check in on you regularly, and you tell me the instant you get the smallest headache. But I think you’ll be fine--just get some rest these next few days. Nothing strenuous.”

“My body seems hell bent on destroying me,” Ienzo remarked dryly.

“I have a feeling you’re going to do a whole lot better,” she said. “Please take it easy. Both of you.”

For a long while after they left they lay side by side on the bed in the dark, trying and failing to get some sleep. Ienzo could hear Demyx trying to stop crying. “I don’t think it would be too strenuous to hold you,” he said softly. “Come here.” He rested his head against Demyx’s chest. “I don’t suppose this is the… best time to tell you. Even found out about us. It feels these walls have ears.”

Demyx was still shuddering. “What did he say?”

“About what I expected. That I’m so young to make this decision. But I… what happened today only proves I made the right choice.” He was glad for the dark, the way it hid his face. “I want to have as much time with you as possible. I can’t afford to be cautious.” He could feel his own emotions welling up within.

“Shit happens,” Demyx said tiredly.

“Exactly.”

“I hope she’s right. For my sanity.” He didn’t say it, but Ienzo sensed it-- I can’t keep doing this. “But I… I’m excited to be married to you.”

“I am too.”

---

Aerith ended up being right; he did not get headaches after it was over, any more than an ordinary person might. His scans came back continually clean. Even and Dilan delved into this new vein of research regarding the effect of darkness and nothing on bodies; it excited them. They hoped to be able to help everyone else who was suffering. It seemed sometimes as though the second they got a hold on how much damage had been done, something happened to make it clear this was only the beginning. This was the nature of recovery.

Ienzo returned to his normal alcove in the library for some light reading. He found his manuscript on the desk, flooded with sticky notes and, he suspected, suggested edits. He sighed. Even may have been the better critical thinker, but he was not necessarily the better writer.

Lying below this was a composition book, filled with steady, painstaking writing. Even’s story, the beginning of it: The boy, when we took him in, was numb, traumatized; he did not speak. I all but begged him to find a family in town, but his mind was made up, and the small genius became his son. I found myself caring more about the child than I wanted to admit; the others, too, drawn to the glow of his potential. Strange to read about himself in the third person.

They found him lying facedown in a pool of water after a storm; eighteen or so, strong, his hair a shocking silver. He remembered nothing aside from a name that was to haunt us all--Xehanort.

Ienzo flipped through the pages wearily.

He seemed to have taken with Ansem’s ward. Ansem figured this may have had something to do with his past--perhaps a forgotten sibling. It was so difficult to get Ienzo to speak; I would not dare take the only easy conversation he had from him. What I did not realize quickly enough was that Ienzo was no friend of Xehanort’s, no pet; he was a puppet.

Those memories...

Ansem was livid when he discovered we’d repurposed our experiments. He, a man who hardly ever raised his voice, chewed out golden boy Xehanort with more vitriol than I'd ever experienced. We were discovering the very building blocks of the soul; didn’t he realize how momentous this was? Ansem always held his ideals above all, up to and including the people in his life. I figured this was more of that frippery. But he was always better at seeing the bigger picture than I.  

I was wrong, and a fool; there was a reason they called him Ansem the Wise.

Ienzo couldn’t look away; it was like a trainwreck. He realized he’d needed this, to hear what Even had to say. There was so much left to the story.

[thenightling]

IMVU Weirdness in an abridged nutshell

On IMVU messages:

Person A: “Hey, did you know your CountVladDracula IMVU account is on this blacklist of people to avoid.  Posted by a Tumblr page called IdiotsofIMVU?” Me: “No, I did not know.” *Goes to investigate.  I realize fast I’ve been on this list for at least two years and it’s barely affected me (if at all.)* 

__________________________________

*After I post about this on Tumblr.*   Person B:  “I, too, am a victim of this terrible plight!  We must declare war!” Me: “I’d rather just block them and carry on living.” Person B. “NO, THERE MUST BE WAR!”

________________

Note: There were others who came to me saying they were on this list who didn’t seem quite as war happy and were actually supportive but I’m not going to mention them here other than to say that they exist.  And are not mentioned here.

______________________  Person C.  “I lived with them.  They wanted to pressure me to have sex with them and now they stalk and harass me.” Me: “... Have you gone to the police?” Person C. “Yeah, I’ve got their personal information and now I want you to share it for me.” Me:  “That doesn’t sound like something a detective would tell you to do...  I thought they’d ask you to give them evidence and block them.” Person C: “WHY WON’T YOU POST THEIR NAMES FOR ME?!  ARE YOU A COWARD?!?” Me:  “No, I-” Person C: “WHY WON’T YOU DO WHAT I TELL YOU!?”

Me: “Because this seriously doesn’t feel right...”

(i feel very sorry for this one.  I think there’s a chance there’s truth here.)

_________________

Through all of this I showed the conversation logs to a long time friend of mine but made the mistake of asking her which E-mail address to send the logs to.  A day after that she says “Not to start a fight but why would you need my E-mail address?  I’ve used the same E-mail address for years.”  I explain that she has made other E-mail addresses and admitted she doesn’t check that one very often.  She gives a two paragraph response again “not to start a fight” and “I don’t want to start a fight but” and it felt like she wasn’t accepting my answer.   Me: “This is starting to feel hostile.”

Her: “Why are you doing this?!  I’m already crying!” Me:  “WTF?!” The next day she admits she was hostile because she’s “always on the defensive” with me now.   And decided to blame me for all her life’s woes and has felt this way about me for hears. Later that same night I find out someone accidentally took a weedwacker to my very healthy and growing-on-time Pumpkin plants. So at least two of my pumpkin plants were killed. I have more but those had the best sunlight.   

_________________

*Next day on Tumblr.* Person D:  “Hey, I’m just a totally normal comic book fan.  Let’s talk about things.” Me:  “Okay...  I don’t get many messages like this but okay...” Person D:  “Oh, you don’t like the physics in Endgame?  All right.” (Debate ensues.  Then after some time) “Let’s agree to disagree.  Now let’s find another topic for you to disagree with me on.” Me:  To myself: “Why does this feel like some demented form of therapy?” Person D:  “...So that’s why it makes complete sense that a supernaturally enhanced creature would breathe in toxic fumes to dull out perfectly mundane odors that are too much for him to handle.” (Fables graphic novel series related.)

Me: “But Smoking is a lot more pungent, there is instinctual apprehension, and with a healing factor every time he lights up his lungs should get fresh damage (gag and cough reflex that most smokers lose after the first or first few cigarettes).  It doesn’t make sense.” (Argument gets heated.  I try to tell them the logic doesn’t sit right for me.  They eventually deteriorate into “Magick doesn’t have to make sense” level of defense.)  I realize things are getting too heated and apologize.

Person D:  “That apology isn’t good enough!”

Me: “Eh?” Person D:  “Have you ever given a REAL apology in your life?!  Like it or not you’re a very MEAN person!” (says a few other things that indicate they’ve been ‘watching” me for some time and “know” my ‘behavior patterns.”) Me: “...Uh... I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” Person D:   “Now make me believe it!  And DON’T try to defend yourself!”  That was creepy. That was one step too far and I was no longer contrite.  I called them an egomaniac, told them i had no intention of bending the knee for them (which in retrospect sounds stupid but I was flustered) and blocked them.

*I sit there realizing this felt like some sort of weird test.*  

________________________ 

*0.5 seconds later on IMVU messages:*

Person E:  *On *MVU* “Hey, have you ever heard of IdiotsofiMVU?” Me: “I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!” Person E:  “I’m sorry, I won’t bother you anymore...” Me: “Wait, I’m sorry, I’m just frazzled by weirdness.” Person E: “Oh, good.  You know Person C keeps lying about me!” Me: *realizing this means they’re essentially admitting to being a part of the IdiotsofIMVU.  Through proverbial gritted teeth I reply.*  “Have you considered blocking them?”

Person E: “I tried that already!  Don’t trust them!* *Me, trying very hard not to snap with the words “YOU HAVE ME ON A BLACKLIST YOU WEIRD AND IMMATURE ASS!”  In reality though I simply don’t reply at this point.*  

Did I somehow wander onto a Heathers or Mean Girls remake set?  And if so where’s my script?   I didn’t like High School drama as a teenager and I don’t like it at thirty seven.   Leave me alone!

Don’t test me to see if I’m worthy to be taken off your list.  Don’t try to get me to join your war.  Don’t backbite your exs to me.  Just. leave. me. Alone.  I don’t KNOW any of you!

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Reviews: True North

The Golden Compass sucks. i saw that wet fart when i was younger, on a whim, and was thoroughly disappointed. Sh*t didn’t make a lick of sense to me. That film was my first introduction to the His Dark Materials and it soured me on the entire franchise. Like most of the movie-going crowd because it flopped like a fat man into a public pool. The thing abut that movie is that it felt like another entry into the Narnia Chronicles, and abhor that franchise. I’ve hated them since i was forced to read them when i was in the third grade. They were terrible, and that was before i become aggressively areligious. Afterward? Bro. Suffice it to say, when the BBC adaption was announced, it was hard pass for me. And then my mom got HBOMax.

I was seeing a ton of ads for season two, a strong focus on Lyra and John Parry. Th more i saw of those Youtube ads, i don’t watch television anymore, the more i became intrigued. Eventually, i bit the bullet and did some research on he show, itself. Yo, i was SO glad i opted to give this thing a chance. The cast was amazing. the principal characters, all some of my favorite actors but, more than that, the plot was mad intriguing. It was so clever and unique and so far removed from Narnia wank, it could be considered anti-Narnia almost. How the f*ck did that movie get so much wrong? Suffice it to say, i gorged on that first season like a fat kid gorges chocolate cake. I finished it last night and these are my impressions.

The Outstanding

First and foremost, i absolutely have to praise Dafne Keen in this, man. She is Lyra Silvertongue, heroine and main character of the entire Dark Materials series. This success of this show rests on the shoulders of the then fourteen year old and she carries that sh*t like a champ. There is a wit and wisdom that Lyra carries which belies her age and Keen taps into that effortlessly. She played Laura Kinney in Logan a few years back, keeping pace with Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine, so i knew she was skilled in her craft but i never imagined she’s be able to carry such demanding fair, so early in her career. I’d say she was the best thing about this show but that’s not really true. The level of quality in this thing is just that profound.

Ruth Wilson plays Marisa Coulter, Lyra’s mother, and, holy sh*t, is she incredible in the roll. Look, i love Wilson, even when she is in less than quality productions like The Affair. That show was bogus. What wasn’t bogus was her stint as Alice Morgan on Luther. I absolutely fell in love with her on that show and Ms. Coulter gives me all of the Alice vibes, just far more cruel. If Alice was calculating and aloof, the Coulter is deceitfully cruel and i love every second of it. You can tell there is a sadistic streak, straight up wrath, just below the surface and Wilson captures that skin deep veneer in a gently terrifying manner.

James McAvoy comes through and delivers yet again with his detached and insidious Lord Asriel Belacqua. It’s always a pleasure seeing this man do his job and, admittedly, he’s not in this first season much but the time that he is, McAvoy dominates. This is a desperate, desperate, man who knows he is right and will do anything to accomplish his goal. This single-minded drive reminds me so much of Sosuke Aizen from BLEACH and, like Aizen, Lord Asriel literally threw away everything to achieve that goal. It’s wild seeing Professor X go full Magneto and love it!

Line-Manuel Miranda is in this as the snarky Lee Scoresby, Texan Aeronaut, extraordinaire. Look, Manuel is a brilliant artist, i can’t take that away from him. He’s exceptional in Hamilton and on the stage but that’s a completely different skill set. There is a way you have to perform, to project, on stage that doesn’t translate to film and Manuel is still trying to get a handle on that. He’s not terrible in this role, mind you, but he’s just serviceable. However, the chemistry he has with Keen is something special. You can tell they get along strongly and that genuine interactions shines through in their performances together.

The rest of the cast is just as strong, specifically Kit Connor and Joe Tandberg as Pantalaimon and Lorek Brynison, respectively. Ariyon Bakare, Clarke Peters, Anne-Marie Duff, Lucian Msmati, Amir Wilson, Ruta Gedmintas, Will Keen, and Lewin Lloyd all turn in incredibly strong performances, for what they were given. A lot of these characters deserved a bit more screen time, a bit more fleshing out, but i am okay with what we did receive. This ain’t their story, it’s Lyra’s.

I just need to take some time and praise this show for how properly gorgeous it is. I mean, the level of production on this thing is rather profound, you knew that in the opening scene during the flood, but moreso as the world begins to expand. I know a lot of this stuff is filmed on sets and what not but, my goodness, are they elaborate and detailed. That whole arctic run was brilliant. It’s particularly intriguing when you understand how well the CG effects were used in regards to budget. The whole “show don’t tell’ adage definitely comes into effect for this serial and it’s all the better for it.

I am absolutely in love with the narrative, man. Never mind the actual plot in the books, the adaption presented is one of the best I've seen in a long a while. My goodness, the world being built is so enthralling, so captivating, i hate that i slept on this show, this series, for so long. I understand that this is one interpretation of the novel events but I'm still infatuated with every second of it.

The writing in this show is on point, for sure. It feels organic, it feels real. I know this is a series of books, decades old, but that goes a long way to proving the pedigree of this adaption. This doesn’t feel out of place or trite or try hard. It works beautifully, except for when Manuel is delivering dialogue outside of his scenes with Keen, and that is a real joy to watch.

There is a distinct focus on diversity displayed throughout this show so far and i love it. This is a reflection of the world in real time and more, big budget, shows need to show this reality. The difference between this and, say, Disney Star Wars or current Doctor Who, is the fact none of the representation in Materials feels forced. It feels organic, intrinsic to a story about entire worlds. You need this level of diversity for this story to be taken even remotely seriously in the modern day and i commend the production for handling this so well.

The Okay

I’ve never read the books so i can only judge this thing on what i glean from the wiki and what i see in the show. While i am completely smitten with what has been resented, the show feels like an abridged version of what we get in the books. I know for all adaptions that’s true but this feels like a legit highlight real of the greatest hits. I can’t say for sure but the adapted screenplay feels like it’s trying to load up on plot as much as possible, in as short a time as possible. Makes for an interesting view but, as a cat who understands storytelling, it feels like a patchwork of content.

This thing has some pretty brisk pacing. Again, i don’t know from where this first series is adapted but it definitely feels like they were in kind of a hurry to get. I mean, it really doesn’t but once sh*t gets started, it never looks back at all. It feels like that, at certain times, we should have definitely sent more time on an interaction or with a relationship. Lyra’s time in the Magisterial and Bolivar, particularly, seems rushed to me.

It’s uncomfortable how many times they make Dafne get naked. Obviously, they don’t show anything and it’s all inferred but, like, gross.

The Verdict

I loved this show, man. Absolutely adored every second of it. The BBC, when it really wants to, can produce some brilliant film. Luther, Sherlock, War of the Worlds, are all favorites and now His Dark Materials can be confidently added to that list. This show is gorgeous to watch, the production values on full display. Sweeping cinematic vistas both real and composite, permeate this rather cleverly effect heavy adaption. The performances, alone are enough to keep you coming back for more but this is, genuinely, one of the most gorgeous shows I've ever seen. Speaking of performances, everyone is excellent but the anchor is definitely Dafne Keen. Her Lyra Silvertongue is the linchpin of this entire show and she bares that weight brilliantly. I forget sometimes that she’s only fifteen, especially considering the talent she with whom she shares the screen. Ruth Wilson, James McAvoy, and Lin-Manuel Miranda all have capitol roles in this first season and they relish their time on camera, especially Wilson. I’ve been a fan of hers since that brilliant run on Luther as Alice Morgan so seeing her, here, has been giving me the best type of deja vu. His Dark Materials is f*cking outstanding, man. I can gush about this thing ad nauseam but this essay would definitely turn into a novel and no one wants that. If you have HBOMax, definitely give this a go. It’s one of the best shows out, has a full eight hours to binge in season one, and another four, so far, in season two. Sh*t is dope and i highly recommend a proper watch.

[synthient]

Ever since I finished reading The Cards with Teeth and Death T—the two manga arcs that the first episode of the anime is based on—I’ve been mulling something over.

How could you do Kaiba’s introduction right?

Because that first anime episode, “The Heart of the Cards,” is pretty inarguably a mess. It’s rushed, it’s nonsensical, it’s got a mountain of plot holes and fridge logic, it feels a little like some kind of bizarro world disconnected from the rest of the series…

But if anything, The Cards with Teeth and Death T feel even more disconnected. They’re from a point in the manga where Takahashi really didn’t have a clear idea of where the story was going, what genre and tone he was aiming for, or who any of these characters were supposed to be, and it shows. Death T in particular is almost impossible to reconcile with Kaiba’s later characterization without a crapton of handwaving (and I can’t speak for anyone else, but I personally found the magical personality-altering coma explanation pretty unsatisfying).

So what I’ve been trying to figure out is, if some hypothetical future reboot had the chance to do the anime over again, what would be the best way to make this part of the story work?

I think it’d need to do three things:

1.      Split “The Heart of the Cards” up into two episodes.

2.      Add back in the second half of The Cards with Teeth.

3.      Acknowledge that Yami fucked up.

(more below the readmore that may or may not work on mobile)

The biggest flaw of “The Heart of the Cards” is that it tried to cram two manga arcs (that take place weeks apart) into one twenty-minute episode. The abridged series version is barely even an exaggeration—this thing goes from zero to sixty hilariously fast. So the first obvious fix would be to split it back up into its composite parts: one episode for the elements from The Cards with Teeth, and a separate, later episode for the elements from Death T.

Aside from moving too quickly, however, I actually think the anime writers had the right idea: adapt the parts of Season 0 that are essential to the rest of the plot, but cut the bits of early-installment weirdness that don’t fit anymore. And I definitely think they made the right call in cutting the Amusement Park of Doooom segment of Death T (the world of Yugioh is a better place without Tristan’s nephew in it, and Kaiba is a much easier character to write if you’re not constantly trying to explain that time he became the villain from Saw). The real problem is that they cut the second half of The Cards with Teeth. If you take a close look, the root of almost all the plot holes in “The Heart of the Cards” is the removal of Yami and Kaiba’s first duel.

It doesn’t make any sense for Yugi’s grandpa to “somehow become severely injured by playing a children’s card game,” because Kaiba never had a reason to recreate the Experience of Death penalty game because it was never used against him. It doesn’t make any sense for Kaiba to rip the fourth Blue Eyes instead of keeping it in a nice glass case somewhere, because he’s not mad at it for betraying him before. It doesn’t make any sense for him to challenge some kid he barely knows to a card game out of nowhere and with nothing to gain, because he’s not trying to get revenge against the person who tortured him.

And that’s another element that the anime cut and the manga never adequately dealt with: Yami fucked up. Big time. The punishment he gave Kaiba at the end of their first duel was disproportionate and horrible, and there’s really no way of getting around that. He made a teenager hallucinate about being mauled to death by monsters. In hyper-realistic detail. All night long. That’s one of the most horrifying penalty games he gives to anyone, including violent criminals and murderers, and Kaiba gets it for stealing a trading card.  

And if Yami was trying to teach him An Important Lesson about Not Doing Bad Things or something, it had the exact opposite effect. Shockingly, torturing an already-abused-and-traumatized teenager made things worse, not better, and Death T happened as a direct result of Kaiba’s desire to get rid of his reoccurring nightmares by turning Yami’s own weapon against him.

In the manga continuity, Yami does eventually decide penalty games are wrong and stop dealing them out...but only because Pegasus tells him that the Millennium Items are evil, and the only thing Yami knows about himself at that point is that he came from the Millennium Puzzle and he doesn’t want to prove Pegasus right. But wouldn’t it be more powerful if he came to that realization on his own, without Pegasus having to spell it out for him? And wouldn’t his experience with Kaiba be the perfect opportunity for him to have that epiphany?

So let’s say we’re watching that hypothetical reboot. There’s already been a Cards with Teeth episode, and a few more episodes in between, and now we’ve reached Kaiba’s second appearance. At first it plays out pretty much like the original “The Heart of the Cards” (no combination torture chamber/theme park here, we skip right to the card games), just with the added context of that first duel. But at some point during the rematch, Yami tells Kaiba that he should have learned his lesson the first time. He explains that that’s the point of penalty games: to deal out justice and discourage repeat offenses.

And Kaiba laughs in his face.

Because he knows all about lessons taught through pain, and he already has all the lessons he needs.

(Yeahhh, the parallels between Yami and Gozaburo are, uh. Something.)

The seeds of doubt are sown. When Yami imagines the cards receding away from him, it’s not just that he’s afraid of losing—he’s afraid of himself. Kaiba has forced him question his morality and his methods, and now he’s scared that he’s not the good guy after all.

And at the end of the duel, when Kaiba’s just standing there, waiting to get what a loser deserves, Yami doesn’t go for the manga version of the Mind Crush. He doesn’t put him in a coma. He doesn’t shatter this already-broken kid and him and leave him to pick up the pieces. He goes for the anime version, the one that (I’ve theorized) lifts the fear and anger off Kaiba’s shoulders long enough for him to stop and breathe. If pain didn’t work, then maybe empathy will.

And in this reboot, that’s the last time he ever uses a penalty game.