Overhype leaves a bitter taste.
Never used Colgate brand toothpaste, kids.
Well it is based on a light novel series, so taking into account that certain aspects of development are usually lost in translation between the media (unless you are a high school romcom light novel-based anime for whatever reason), and the fact that the pacing was apparently all over the place even from what the light novel fans have told me, you have that. The first chunk of the series was quite alright; nothing groundbreaking, but I found it entertaining and -- dare I say -- sweet at times, as well! And then the second chunk was what made me drift away. Though if you wish for a better taste I would recommend looking at the light novels for comparison (avoiding a certain special half pseudo-"chapter" of sorts, cough cough). It may give you a better framing of everything that happened, although the light novel media in itself is something you would need to get used to if your reading world is dominated by equal parts narration and text-heaviness.
What exactly does one get?
This was lovely! It felt extremely, almost surrealistically calm and relaxing. The cinematography was wonderful as well, so cheers to everyone involved. I truly hope to see more of these soon. He is obviously the canvas being painted upon.
I always knew Link was actually Bear Grylls.
We are the alpha and omega, and we are here to knock you all down.
For each boss battle you fight, take a photograph of the battle/boss and paste Misty's avatar or face onto the boss' face.
I would watch it too. I hear the manga was an artistic masterpiece, so I am aiming for the show to be anime of the year.
This is what happens when I try getting packages delivered to my home.
Then you shall fit perfectly in again! Welcome welcome welcome back, Annie. The forum has had some interesting changes but things should sail as smoothly as Square keeping the news on KH3 away from us.
As the others have said it is still continuing (even the manga), but it is fairly well-received because of its realistic situational and emotional portrayal and creativity of setting, among other things. So I certainly recommend taking a look; it shall not hurt and you may become a fan as well. It is fairly dark, fair warning; not as dark as some of the other things out there but dark nonetheless. Three episode rule is a good idea! Many consider it the best of the season, in some respects.
Damn you 1 AM Syndrome, making my own humour more sub-par and terrible than it already is.
You did not have to edit your post it was done in jest oh no it appears that 1 AM syndrome is getting to everyone
Maruku-sama, you mean, soldier.
OH MY GOD.
{ m u s i c }[ --- ] For the past few days, Fatime was unable to do anything. Feeling was a lost companion to her. The ability to walk, to talk, to move. It slowly drained away from her frail body without a semblance of immediate return or hope. Her eyes felt permanently red, and the insides of her hands were raw from clenching her nails much too hard. She had tossed and turned in her bed, but slowly the wave of apathy would begin to dawn upon her, and as the start of the next day dawned, Ayanna would enter Fatime's room and realize that she had such little consideration of her surroundings that she even threw her books to the floor. << I do not care, the magpie cried. >> And it was to say, whenever Ayanna came to her; ran her strong and wise hands upon Fatime's head to wake her from the storm of pillows and fallen bedsheets that she had let go awry; that was the only thing Fatime's voice would respond with. The ghostly girl underwent a change that let the blood drain from her face. It was her fault. Her fault. Her fault ... When the time passed, Ayanna would stop coming into Fatime's room, leaving the girl alone in her terrifying emptiness. She would clutch for the books on the ground but she gave up too quickly. What was the point of running away to fictional worlds when reality faced you with its angered, vengeful eyes? What good was it to keep living in a lie of a world to satisfy the heart that had already been cursed and stricken down by the victory of death? The clock was Fatime's only company in this harrowing time. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And with each snap of the hands, she felt a piece of her soul fall away into the abyss of dread. - - - Crack. The sound of late-night thunder shot Fatime out of her bed, waking her just for a brief moment. It was a moment, a moment someone would feel when they would just wake up and not a thought of the past or the future would go through their heads. Only the present, and whatever warmth or cold it harboured. Fatime only felt fear, but it was a feeling that she was all too used to, for she had become a weak, soulless, goblin of fear. Hidden away from whatever friends she had now lost, hidden from her brother whom she so foolishly involved in this mess, hidden from society, hidden from reality, hidden from the truth. And no matter how much she struggled, no matter how much she tried to lift up her delicate wings through the cold steel bars of the cage that she had trapped herself in, she would breathe, huff, but simply could not. Crack. Another flash of light exploded from beyond the blinds Ayanna had put up a few days ago and Fatime decided not to open at all. She wanted to call for Ayanna. She wanted to call for someone, anyone. Anyone to take her away from the weight upon her heart. She opened her mouth and tried to call. But this girl, oh no, she could not bring herself to say the words from her heart. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. There was no more thunder. Fatime slowly fell back to her bed, returning to this void of slowly growing fear, in her ambivalent, bitter slumber.
"To be, or not to be--that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-- No more--and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-- To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprise of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now, The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered."
