#the same guy not two guys. i just use both his naked interchangeability sometimes and forget that might be confusing sorry.

[eye-of-yelough]

still don’t know wether i want Aeryn to be his Official Name and Tae (“a great individual”) as just a Gortash-only nickname or if i want the complete vice versa, Gortash insisting that that is his full time name now and only using Aeryn to uh. deadname him.

[avegetariancannibal]

“Boy With a Haunted Past” (part THREE)

The story so far: it's 1990, Hannibal and Will are 17 and 16 respectively, they've been on a date to a "haunted house" and Will's father has warned him to stay away from his new fella.

[ part 2 | 1 ]

Will woke up with his fingers pressed to his lips as if he were trying to hold in the sensation of his kisses with Hannibal. He smiled, realizing the space beneath his lower lip felt tender. He had stubble burn! He had stubble burn from kissing a boy who had stubble!

All too soon, the memory of his homecoming crept in, replacing his euphoria.

At once he was grumpy and fuming, and determined to avoid his father for the next... however long it took. Telling him to stay away from the first guy who liked him back, all over some weird rumor that undoubtedly had zero basis in reality? It was... it was unfair and wrong, and it had intruded on his reminiscence of the night before..

Luckily, his dad had already left for his weekend job by the time Will skulked out of his room.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number for Hannibal's host family.

A young boy answered. "You've reached the Froideveaux-Bloom residence." He sounded very practiced and formal.

"May I speak to Hannibal Lecter?" Will asked, trying to match the kid's formality.

"He just got back from his run!" the boy gushed, dropping his affected way of talking. "Did you know he can run thirty miles an hour?"

Will laughed before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to---it's just that's faster than humans can run."

"Hannibal can do anything," the boy sniffed.

"Can he talk on the phone, then?" Will asked.

"He's in the shower," the boy said. "Is this Will? If this is Will, he said I should tell you to come over any time even if he's in the shower, which is is right now."

Will barely blurted out his thanks before hanging up the phone and running out the door, spurred on by the mental imagine of Hannibal taking a shower.

He ran all the way over, nearly a mile-and-a-half, except for the last block so he could catch his breath and not look like a total weirdo.

The house was decorated for Halloween, but in a tasteful and pretty cheerful way. The scarecrows with their pumpkin heads smiled without menace, and wicker cats crouched as if playfully pouncing. It all looked pretty expensive, to Will's eye.

When he knocked on the door, Alana Bloom answered. She was a sophomore, too, but at least two social levels higher than him. They'd never hung out even though they had classes together. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, looking distinctly amused and knowing. It made him feel self-conscious and he didn’t know why. He looked away from her eyes.

"I-is Hannibal home?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, moving aside. "Come on in, Pink Cheeks."

Will's hand flew to his face. Was he blushing? Or was he still flushed from running? Probably both. Damn it.

"He's still getting ready," she said, waving him over to the living room.

Will frowned. "Getting ready for what?"

"For you," she said. He could tell she was rolling her eyes even though he hadn't looked at her again.

Will had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning at that.

"You know," she said as they sat down, "my parents wanted to host a female student. They thought it'd be nice for me to have a ‘sister,’ even just for a year. I've got two brothers in college and now my stepbrother Frankie."

"Not Frankie!" A young boy's voice corrected her from somewhere up the stairs. "Franklyn!"

"Frankie," Alana said, raising her voice, "what did Hannibal tell you about eavesdropping?"

A moment later, a cherub-faced boy with a riot of dark hair came sulking down the stairs.

"He said it was rude," Franklyn sighed. "I apologize to you both."

He made a minute bow---the very same gesture Will had seen Hannibal make half a dozen times in classes. The kid obviously had an extreme case of hero worship and it was pretty cute.

"Apology accepted," Will said.

"As I was saying," Alana went on. "They were nervous about having some smooth European boy in the house with me, like he was gonna stamp his passport with my hymen or something, but it was clear from the start he had his eye on someone else."

Will's mouth was hanging open from her passport comment. All he could make was a vaguely idiotic noise.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't know he’s liked you from the start," she said. "False modesty is so annoying. Your entire chin is covered in stubble burn."

"I-it's not false modesty!" Will protested, rubbing his chin. "I'm genuinely a moron!"

She laughed, and not cruelly. Will was kind of warming up to her.

"What's stubble burn?" Franklyn asked.

"It's when a boy likes you very much," Alana started, "and underestimates how quickly his facial hair grows."

Will was 100% certain he was going to combust, as it felt like his body temperature had more than doubled in an instant.

Luckily, Hannibal came downstairs at last. He was wearing a dark red henley, unbuttoned at the top to show a strand of honest-to-God chest hair. He drew up short on the last step as his eyes met Will's and his face lit up with the goofiest, most perfectly stupid grin of all time. Will found himself grinning back, unable to move, so struck he was by the vision of---

"Hello, Will."

"Hello, Hannibal."

"Oh my freaking God," Alana sighed.

Franklyn tried to bound over to Hannibal, but Alana grabbed his arm.

"Let go of me," fumed the boy.

"No, we're going to play video games," Alana told him. "And if you're good and leave Hannibal alone for a while, he'll make you a grilled cheese later. Isn't that right?'

"Completely right," Hannibal agreed. "With the fontina we like so much."

Franklyn gave a muffled squeal of delight.

Will didn't even remember getting out of his chair, but suddenly he was following Hannibal up the stairs.

"Interesting decor," Will said, looking around at the multiple Batman posters. "Never took you for a big movie fan."

Hannibal looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh! I'd all but forgotten those. They belong to Alana's brother. I'm just borrowing the room so I thought I'd do well to redecorate it in my mind only."

Will frowned. "In your mind? How does that work?"

Hannibal took hold of his hand. "Close your eyes."  Will couldn't stop staring at their interlaced fingers. Hannibal gave his hand a squeeze and said, "Close your eyes."

Will did as he was told.

"I suspect you have an abundance of empathy," Hannibal said beside him.

That made Will snort. "Too much, some people tell me."

"Don't listen to them," Hannibal said. "It's a sign of a powerful imagination. You can put yourself in other people's minds. All you have to do is put yourself in other... places."

"Is that what you do??" Will asked. "Like...imagine yourself back home in Lithuania?"

"Not there," Hannibal said. "But in my favorite museums. Sometimes instead of Michael's poster over the bed, I think of Leda and the Swan by Francois Boucher, or Botticelli's Primavera."

Will squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conjure something into his mind. "I...don't know what those look like."

"Just think of something you like," Hannibal said. "It doesn't have to be art. It can be a place, real or fictional. Let it come to you."

Will slowed his breathing. He let everything in the room be wiped away, as if by a sweeping eraser, even Hannibal. In place of the oversized posters and sports memorabilia, he let ferns sprout up. Willows unfurled their branches, letting them fall like curtains made of delicate green beads. A stream sprang up around his feet, rising until the water circled his thighs, cool and somewhat viscous with algae. He'd forgotten to imagine himself a pair of waders.

He laughed.

Hannibal materialized in the stream with him, still holding his hand. "Where are we?" he asked, smiling.

"My favorite fishing place in Louisiana," Will said. "The fishing actually wasn't very good, but it was... peaceful. I didn't have to think so much about everything."

"What made you laugh just then?"

"Oh, I forgot my waders," Will said. He tried to imagine them on, but it was too late. "I feel the water going up my legs and it... uh... tickles."

"Are you naked?" Hannibal asked in a low voice. "Am I naked with you?"

Will burst out laughing. "No! No, I'm wearing jeans. We're both wearing what we're wearing here, in real life. We're wearing the same things in my imagination."

"Ah well, maybe next time," Hannibal said with an exaggerated sigh.

Will shook himself free of the scenery he'd created in his mind until they were standing in the bedroom again.

"How did you know?" he asked. "About my empathy, I mean. I usually try to keep that under wraps."

"Little things," Hannibal said. "The subtle changes in your expression when someone said in class that nobody really knew why bad men did bad things. You understood."

Will remembered that day. They'd been speaking of scientists who committed horrible crimes against their fellow human beings in the pursuit of knowledge or fame. Will knew exactly why they'd done these things, because he could all too easily put himself in their minds. He'd felt ill afterwards.

"I-I don't excuse what they---"

"Of course not," Hannibal cut him off. "Empathy isn't sympathy, though many mistakenly use the words interchangeably."

"You got all that from my facial expressions in class?" Will asked.

Hannibal rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb. "I think you underestimate just how closely I've been looking at you. At first because you're clearly beautiful and you caught my eye, but then because I wanted to know you and hoped I would see some sign that you wanted to know me, too."

Will had no idea what to say to any of that, so he grabbed Hannibal by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

(to be continued)

[weneedtherooks]

What Happened In Vegas... (1/2)

Viva Las Vegas!

“You wanna make a bet the girl standing on the table will pass out first?” Friedrich snorted. “$20 on the girl who was swinging on the pole earlier,” her returned, setting the final shot glass on his coworker’s tray. Little bets like these helped pass the time during parties like this. 21st birthday bases were a popular bore. After all, who didn’t think Vegas was the perfect place to get shitfaced on your first legal outing? What happened at Vegas stayed at vegas, right? The waiter dug out a twenty, sliding it over before picking up the tray of shots. “It’s a bet!” Friedrich grabbed the bill and stuck it in a tray behind the bar. Friedrich Rosenthal had been living in Las Vegas for three years now, working as a casino bartender. He’d left hamburg in need of a change of pace, although Nevada wasn’t what he’d originally had in mind. Too much neon for his liking, and too many sloshed gamblers slipping him their hotel room numbers. Periodically, he’d get sent to one of their party venues, and those nights always ended the same: some poor girl gets wasted and leaves with a perfect jackass. This party didn’t seem any different. A group of twelve had booked the venue for tonight, and Friedrich had gotten the short straw. He hated this venue; it had a stripper pole and a bunch of black lights paired with white couches…which generally meant skimpy clothes, too much tequila, and an excessive amount of tongue. The girls filed in first, all long eyelashes and sweet perfume. Eight girls, followed by four guys. An uneven number…great. Friedrich went back to cleaning a martini glass, glancing up when a chorus of “boo”ing sounded by the stage. “Aw, c’mon Claire! Megan’s gonna work the pole again soon!” “Hey!” the offended party chimed, giving her friend a playful smack on the arm. One of the men in the group (a sturdy guy with gauges and an eyebrow piercing) tried to pull the parting friend back, but she stepped back, holding her hands up, shaking her head with an apologetic smile. She was a pretty blonde (a naturally pale blonde, too), her soft curls hanging just below the chin. The backless halter top she was wearing was cut well below the breast line in the front, the fabric thin and almost silky. Not to mention the five inch black velvet stilettos; she had to be as tall as him in those! Paired with the tight skinny jeans she was wearing…he could probably bet money on her wearing a thong. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know how to make a Long Island iced tea, would you?” “I feel obligated to ask how much you’ve already drank.” She grinned as she leaned against the counter. “I can handle it, honey.” “Well, suit yourself,” he mumbled, pulling out a glass. “Not like you haven’t already had two mojitos and five shots of tequila.” “And yet I can still feel my feet,” she returned sarcastically, two clunks on the floor soundly finishing her complaint. “In all honesty, I’ve only had one drink. The first mojito.” “Really?” “Yeah. Not a huge fan of tequila.” “What about…?” “Got pulled away from my drink,” she leaned closer to his face, “and one of the guys that came with us has been staring me down since we arrived,” she said in a hushed tone. Friedrich leaned over to the side to look past her. “The guy that tried to pull you back,” he replied. She nodded. “I just don’t trust him. Been drugged before, not risking it again.” That was a surprise. “Popular girl, eh?” She scoffed. “They just don’t like that I say no, so they figure drugging me is better.” Yeah, I’ve been there before. They remained silent while he finished her drink. Her eyes look incredible, he thought to himself, noticing the dark brown irises look almost black in the dim lighting; the blue neon and black lights made her eyes glitter, giving the dark pools a sort of enigmatic charm. “So,” he started, sliding the finished drink to her, “you have a name?” Lifting the drink to take a sip, she smiled. “Do you?” “I asked first” She smiled behind the rim of the glass. “Clara. And you, Mister Foreigner?” “Excuse me?” “Your accent. German, right? Sounds Northern.” “Y…yes. How did you know?” he asked, once again taken by surprise. Clara shrugged a shoulder. “I lived in Germany for two and a half years. In, ah, Bremen.” He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face. “Incredible. What on earth were you doing out there?” “Culinary school, if you can believe it.” She gestured at her outfit. “I lived in Hamburg for six months before moving to Bremen. Worked as a waitress.” “And now you’re here.” Clara huffed, dropping her chin into her hand. “Yep. Here.” Friedrich folded his arms, cocking his head to the side. “What she asked, amused confusion in the question. “I’ve got it.” “Got what?” “You’re from some semi-rich family,” he began, unfolding his arms to place his hands on the bar, “East Coast or something. Didn’t like Mommy nagging you about your future, so you used Daddy’s money to get into culinary school abroad. Got bored with Hamburg after a month or so, but stuck it out another few months before moving to some boarding house in Bremen. Came back to the states against your will, bored and lonely.” Clara’s eyes slit, a look of serious concentration on her face. “You tried going back to school, but couldn’t force yourself to do it. So now you’re sitting at a bar, alone, wearing an outfit that probably isn’t yours, flirting with the bartender. Why, I don’t know, but hey. I won’t complain.” A smile crept slowly across her face. “You ran away,” she countered, biting her lip. “Most of your siblings are married or have good careers, leaving you the odd one out. You took a ship here, cause planes are terrible for proper human interaction, and you’re a perfect little social butterfly. You have something of a vintage charm, but it’s never been enough to get you by, so you settle for the Sensitive Artisan by day, and the Casino Bartender by night. I bet you have a bottle of whiskey twice your age sitting at home so people think you’re sophisticated.” “And you have a secret stash of port and milano cookies.” She laughed, finishing off her drink. I’d pay money to hear that laugh again… “Well? Was I right at all?” she giggled. Friedrich couldn’t help but nod. “Yes, I did come on a boat, and yes, my siblings have their shit together. I came on a boat because airplanes make me skittish, and I read for most of the trip. I do, in fact, own a 40 year old scotch, and I certainly wouldn’t call myself an artisan.” “What about the vintage thing?” “I’ve mostly been called ‘old-fashioned’, but you’re right.” They both chuckled, Clara fidgeting with the empty glass in her hand. “I’m not from a rich anything, but I am from the coast. I wanted to go to culinary school, but Hamburg wasn’t really working for me, so I left. I did get called back, but it was after my dad got sick of sending me money. You’re half right about my outfit, and my secret stash is milanos and peppermint schnapps.” She grinned. “Also, I’m flirting with the bartender because he’s quite handsome, and the charming compliment was sincere. If only he’d tell me his name.” Incredible. “Fritz. And I’m wondering if you wanna get out of this party and actually have a good time?”

Clara woke up to a pounding headache. Good god, how much did I drink last night…? She sat up slowly, yanking the covers up when she remembered she was naked. Wait…why… She saw the backpack by the bathroom door. Riiiight…the bartender from the party. Is he still here? Turning on her phone, the lock screen read 8am. The next day. Did we actually fall asleep together last night? She saw a soft light coming from the bathroom. Getting out of bed, Clara tiptoed to the bathroom, knocking quietly on the door. “Friedrich?” The door cracked open. Friedrich gave her a sleepy smile. Oh, don’t be cute, that’s not fair. “Hey Claire. Did I wake you up?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. She shook her head. “No, no, you’re fine! How long have you been up?” “Not long, I just woke up. You got a headache too?” “Ugh, yes.” He chuckled quietly, opening the door further. “I was actually gonna take a shower. Care to join?” “I’d like that!” Stepping into the bathroom, she noticed a small night light plugged into the wall. “Really?” she asked, pointing at it. Fritz nodded. “I find they suit morning after hangovers quite well.” That makes sense. “Do you usually stay overnight in people’s hotel room?” He paused as he turned to face the shower. “No,” he replied, his voice almost inaudible. Clara kept her mouth shut; clearly this wasn’t normal for him. “I, uh, generally take pretty hot showers.” “Hot sounds perfect.” Clara stepped into the tub, closing her eyes and sighing as the hot water ran over her body. She turned to face Fritz as she heard him enter behind her. “The only thing that could make this better is scented candles. “Would you make fun of me if I told you I had some at home?” “Shut up. You do?” Friedrich smiled, moving in closer to get under the water himself. “Seaside scents and such.” He sighed, his smile dropping a touch. “I get homesick sometimes. It helps, in it’s own way.” Clara nodded, remembering all too well when she did similar things. “Sometimes…I’ll make German street food when I’m upset.” Friedrich looked down, raising an eyebrow. “Why?” “I just…I miss Germany, you know? It felt like home.” Clara looked at her feet. “Your accent gets thicker when you drink, you know.” “Or when I stop trying to hide it,” he answered, letting his accent flow freely now. “I like it…” In the dim light, she could have sworn he was blushing. Clara turned to face him, draping her arms over his shoulders. He has beautiful eyes. Fritz brought his hands up, gently stroking up and down her waist. And such a radiant smile. They interchanged looking into each other’s eyes…and looking at each other’s lips. I wonder… Clara leaned forward. Friedrich met her halfway. He still tastes like whiskey… The water was cold by the time they finished.

“Clara! You almost ready? We gotta go soon!” Clara groaned against Friedrich’s mouth. “I think you’re being summoned,” he murmured against her lips, smiling broadly. “So stupid.” “Good thing you already packed.” Clara smiled, shaking her head. “If only I’d left out some decent clothes,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss the bites along Fritz’s collarbone. He made an approving hum. “You’ll never be able to leave at this rate.” Clara stopped suddenly. “Maybe I don’t want to…” The silence between them was deafening. “Well, maybe-” “Clara!” “Take my henley.” “What?” She tried to protest, but he’d already put his shirt over her head. “It’s alright, I keep an undershirt in my bag.” He stood, making his way to his backpack. His shirt smells like Old Spice… “You want me to let them in?” he asked as another knock sounded on the door. “Might as well.” Lonnie’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. “It’s alright, Lonnie. He doesn’t bite.” “Clearly you do,” Sophie grumbled, stepping into view. Poor girl was wearing sunglasses and rubbing her temples. “Yeah, they’re really something!” Fritz beamed, brushing his fingers across the various bites and bruises. Clara rolled her eyes. “Hey, if you’re gonna show off, think you could show off how well you can carry shoes? Cause I’m not walking in those things all day.” Clara and Fritz hung behind the rest of the group as they made their way to the elevator. “So…what now?” “I’m gonna go back home…” “And?” They started at each other, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “Claire…?” “Yeah…?” What the hell is happening…? “Ahem.” They turned to face Lonnie, the tension between them breaking. “You two coming or what? I mean, I don’t know what he plans on doing today, but I know we’ve got a plane to catch.” Clara blinked, her shoulders dropping. “Right. Home.” “Right…” Friedrich mirrored, his mood abruptly becoming sober. The elevator ride was spent in awkward silence. They didn’t speak as Clara checked out, either. “Well…if you’re ever back in Vegas, look me up,” Fritz finally said, extending his hand. Clara took his hand, shaking it after a time. “I will…” He smiled sadly, chuckling softly at the drawn out handshake. Clara nodded, finally letting go. Her heart was hammering in her chest. After handing her her shoes, they parted ways without another word…

-2 weeks later-

“Hey, you’ve been in there for a while. Is everything okay?” Clara looked up from the pregnancy test in her hand. Wiping her eyes off, she buried the little plastic stick in the trash. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

[mozillogames]

A Bit Of An Empty Shell With Ghost In The Shell

I’ll preface this WHOLE THING with the fact that I’ve never seen the Ghost in the Shell anime. Even though I’m a massive anime nerd, I’ve somehow never sat down and watched any of it. All I really knew about Ghost in the Shell is that there are robots and it’s Neo Tokyo, also a lady protagonist. I also didn’t realise that she basically walked around naked the whole film.

The Live-Action Ghost in the Shell film will be the closest I personally ever get to watching Scarlett Johansson run around naked for 20 or more minutes. It’s an odd statement, I understand, but you have to realise that there’s A LOT of naked Scarlett Johansson. Nippleless, naked Scarlett Johansson, just running around in the nude, kicking fools in the chest and fighting robots. I’m sure it’s someone’s kink.

You know what’s the odd thing? I actually liked Ghost in the Shell. Don’t get me wrong, when I say “like” I mean it as an overwhelming “it’s… like, pretty alright”, hardly anything to write home about, I’m sure, but it wasn’t too bad. Visually rather impressive, both with the CGI of the Neo Tokyo cityscape or the physical effects of all the robotics, it had a lot of visual spectacle. Not to mention “Beat” Takeshi Kitano is in it for crying out loud, he spends almost the entire film just sat in a chair speaking Japanese at everyone and eventually shoots punks with a cool revolver. The language barrier doesn’t seem to exist as everyone will speak in English at ol’ Takeshi and he responds in Japanese without a moment’s hesitation, unless for dramatic effect, and then Scarlett Johansson understands everything perfectly and off she goes, running around naked all the time.

Let’s address the MAIN issue in the whole film. Why does it have to be Scarlett Johansson and not ANY Asian female, at all? I fear the argument, “The film wouldn’t have been made or sell” may be the case as a good third of the film takes place with the camera set directly behind or in front of Scarlett Johansson as she walks around. Solidly focused just on her walking around, as we follow where she’s going, sometimes acting as the rear view mirror for us to watch the world go by, but also with Scarlett Johansson’s face, which they seemingly decided against using CGI to make her “look more Asian”, as that’d have been racist.

Johansson herself doesn’t add much to the film, I’ve always thought her acting was wooden and robotic at best, which works wonders for this film, although I’m not sure if Major Mira is meant to be that lacking in emotion. It felt like Johansson was almost phoning it in, except that she had to turn up to the set to walk around almost naked and I guess she just left her brain behind, almost like the reverse of the entire premise for Ghost in the Shell.

The story is about the first human brain put in a robotic body, Scarlett Johansson, sorry I mean her character, Major Mira Killian (insert comedy trumpets here). The obvious questions end up rising up through this of whether she’s human, robot or something less and before you’re really given time to ponder anything we’re hunting through Neo Tokyo for a mysterious hacker who is killing off members of a company. Really though, the story is about why privatization is never a good idea. If Scarlett Johansson had been put into a robot body under true government supervision then there’d be no stress on turning a profit, just jobs getting done, instead the main bad guy of the whole thing is the standard CEO type who just wants to get a lot money from his government contract and damn the puppies he crushes underfoot.

The story is sort of alright, but suffers from a lot of fluff. There are too many throwaway scenes that feel more like forced references to the anime than any natural flow in a film would allow. Just scenes that were probably in the anime that they felt like keeping in and then it’s gone, nothing gained from it, just a 20 second segment about dogs or touching a lady on the lips, which was an odd one, or even a scene of naked Johansson looking at a naked holographic version of herself and then the scene just ends. I’ll be honest, this did begin to cause my attention to drift and I started losing interest, I either got lost trying to remember the name of the film Battle Royale, spent too much time trying to remember films that included Chin Han and why I recognised him or just lost general interest towards the end of the film.

It was only when a character said the words “The Spider Tank is ready” and “Release the Spider Tank” that my attention snapped back to the film, you don’t simply mention a Spider Tank, literally out of nowhere, and not expect everyone in the room to become intrigued. But wouldn’t you know it’s only got 6 legs! So it’s more of a Beetle Bot, but I guess that lacks the same impact, it’s also a totally mind numbingly boring segment where the standard tropes of the evil CEO taking direct control, despite there probably being professionally trained Spider Tank pilots just chomping at the bit to try and shoot up naked Scarlet Johansson, but you can’t go introducing too many characters, I guess.

Even though there’s only two Asian cast members in the entirety of the main cast despite being set in Neo Tokyo, Beat Takeshi and Chin Han, the rest of the cast are more or less forgettable. There’s a whole crack team in this film but only three of them are important. One of them sits in a chair talking Japanese, one runs around naked all day and the other has robotic eyes, that’s sort of the main things he brings to the table. This glossing over of characters can lead to the story to be rather lack luster at times, I’m sure the anime is wonderful  as it’d have more time to develop the character as well as have an adequate build up in tension before the Spider Tank. Despite all of this, I somehow still somewhat enjoyed Ghost in the Shell. The biggest appeal of the film was the visual aspect, and I don’t just mean naked Scarlett Johansson. The CGI of Neo Tokyo is incredible as well as the various futuristic technologies that arise throughout, such as the deep dive segment which had a strange nightmarish echo that left a rather spooky feeling to the scene. This along the physical effects, such as the geisha robots, that were clearly built on a design based on Five Nights at Freddy’s, or the male lead’s weird robotic eyes, add a lot to the body horror aspects of the series. Humans and robots alike have seemingly interchangeable parts in increasingly inhuman ways.

Along with the pumping soundtrack the grimy futuristic Neo Tokyo works really well with the juxtaposition of large pristine towers and holographic advertisements running alongside a seedy underbelly that you’d find in any good city. The somewhat eerie sense you get from the various robots and how augmentation is implemented in these nightclubs and bars adds so much to the setting itself and it’s a shame that there wasn’t MORE to the representation of Neo Tokyo besides constant sweeping shots of the skyline. Ghost in the Shell feels a little hollow though as I can’t tell you all that much that was actually impressive, or notable, about the story. It ended up feeling a little like a copy and paste cop story, except with robots and in the future. Any interesting concepts on augmentation, human identity or even human/robot rights are hardly brought up, let alone even considered, instead opting for just an almost generic crime drama, with a six legged Spider Tank and rather unimpressive acting from the mostly nude Scarlett Johansson. Also very few Asian people in Asia, like seriously what’s the deal with that?