#post says that you use a cane with your non-dominant hand right

[cisphobie]

didn’t feel like putting this on the post i’m thinking about rn cuz it’s about cane references and the char i’m talking about has a crutch, but they kinda fucked up with one of my f/os’ mobility aids now that i think abt it

[clavissionary-position]

▍ smutty crack

G I L B E R T ⨉ R E A D E R

GILBERT, I NEED―

• • • • • CONTENT WARNING: crack . smut . angst don't read if you value having brain-cells

I M P O R T A N T ! please don't read/like/reblog this post if you are a minor or have no indication in your bio that you are 18+ (or you will be blocked)

"GILBERT I NEED TO SEE YOUR PENIS," you shout first-thing in the morning. You've just awoken from a completely unrelated dream about watching a duck cross the road. Now you're sitting up in your bed, pointing at the wall in front of you, your shoulders heaving from that valiant war-cry.

Fortunately, your room is empty.

Unfortunately, Gilbert is standing in your open doorway. Right smack-dab in the center, with both hands on his cane and legs astride the giant arrow painted onto the floor labeled simply "Definitely Not Belle". There's no draft, but his hair is doing shampoo-commercial things.

And his pants are still on.

Of course his pants are still on. Why would his pants not be on?

You eye his dominant hand and its proximity to his belt. 15 inches. You could fit a massive hot dog in that span.

But wait. What if he prefers to use his non-dominant hand to undo his belt?

But double-wait. What if he's ambidextrous and the odds are closer to fifty-fifty?

Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Right ha-

Gilbert tilts his head, his lashes framing his eye with mermaid-levels of come-hither energy. "Are you looking for something?"

Peenbert. Moisturized.

"Not really." You clear your dick-ready throat. "I just woke up, so…"

Gilbert begins walking, and it's important to note that each stride is as sensual as chocolate fondue dripping off a cock. At least as observed by your emotionally-compromised eyes.

Mmmm, hnnngggg, fondue-play. You curl your lips over your gums as if Gilbert has slapped his chocolate-covered cock across your teeth.

You want him to drip the Obsidian crest onto your belly with his fondue dick. You want the tip of the rifle to end on your left nipple, because you're a little more sensitive on that knob. You want him to cradle your head in his hand as he pumps chocolate-infused Gil-juices onto your panting tongue. You want him to seize your jaw and ram it shut, and then move it around as if making you chew, all while he coos "Mmm, Gilbert is so yummy" in an extremely patronizing, extremely sexy way.

Back in reality, Gilbert taps over to your window with his cane and lifts it to part one of them to the side. "A lie first-thing in the morning. You've grown fearless as of late."

If by 'fearless' he means 'prepared to deep-throat and die', he is not wrong.

"How do you know I'm lying?"

Gilbert idly scratches his back with his cane. "Because I have ears." His eye narrows as if he's pleasuring himself.

Ah, yes. That's right. You screamed for his penis so loud that you left a crack in the window-pane.

Oh God, it's a dick-shaped crack. How in God's name is that physically possible? Is this your superpower? Are you doomed to save the lives of innocents by screaming artistic representations of Gilbert's dick onto buildings?

You open your mouth and words fall out. "Maybe I'm looking for the other Gilbert's penis."

Gilbert looks at you with a blinding smile. "The other Gilbert?"

You tried to think fast but it had cum at a cost.

Come. Come at a cost.

"Mhmm. Yes. The other Gilbert. With the… other penis…"

You want to say that made a lot more sense in your head, but it really didn't.

Gilbert's smile deepens and his eye takes on an excited sparkle. "He has two penises?"

"Mhmm." You nod. "Two." You hold up two fingers in a v-shape in front of your mouth and then immediately put it down when you realize what you're doing.

"How did he come to have two penises?" Why is he enjoying this story? Does Gilbert want two penises? Is one just not cutting it?

"Um… well…" You wrack your brain for more genius thoughts. "There was a freak-accident during a thunderstorm and…"

Gilbert climbs onto your bed and sits cross-legged. "And then?"

Please stop, Gilbert, you beg with your eyes. You both know you're lying. There's no need to keep up this charade. "And then he sneezed, and suddenly he had another dick."

"What did he name it?"

"Should he…have?"

Gilbert looks at you, aghast. "That's the first thing you do when you have a dick!"

"Does your dick have a name?"

His shock morphs into innocence. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

You'd laugh it off if it was anybody other than Gilbert threatening your life over the name of his dick. This man wants you to know absolutely nothing about himself. He and his dick are the national secret.

"Just kidding," he says, pinching your nose and giving it a rough twist. "It doesn't have a name. Would you like to give it one?"

Come again?

"I'm serious."

"I didn't say anything."

"You said it with your cute little, gaping"―Gilbert thumbs your bottom lip―"mouth."

You're trying so hard not to moan or look down at his crotchal region. That vast, forbidden paradise, the gates of which must be wrought of steel and guarded by… well, not literal soldiers, but figurative ones, in pretty armor with little helmets shaped like penis-heads. 'You shall not pass' they would say to you, being fans of a certain franchise. But then Gilbert himself, a spectral projection of the actual Gilbert, would ride through the gates on his penis-shaped segway and hold out his hand like a fairy-tale prince, inviting you into his…

Oh wow, how long have you just been sitting here petting Gilbert through his pants?

"I am so―"

Gilbert catches your withdrawing hand and slaps it back over his bulge. "You're not going to stop halfway, are you?"

"Wait, you're already half-way?"

He gives you a deadpan look. "Funny." He curls his hand around yours curling around his length.

Oh sweet honey badger tits, this is for real. This hardness, this solidity, this grand scepter of unadulterated power. This is the dick which commands armies and crushes foes into dust. The dick destined for the imperial throne. Its magnificent shape exalts your palm and ascends your entire forearm into Glory with a capital G. Tears stream down your face.

Gilbert slaps your hand away.

"These are happy tears."

Gilbert slaps your hand back.

"Other Gilbert will be so jealous," you whisper nonsensically, foaming at the mouth. No other person in history has ever derived such immaculate pleasure from being on the giving end.

Gilbert grunts softly as your fingernail pokes against his tip. The wetness traveling across the fabric only makes you want to clamp your mouth around him while sticking your ass in the air for Gilbert to clap like bongos. It has to be that specific position, because you read it in a dirty book two weeks ago and have spiritually-masturbated to the mental image every night since.

"Has Other Gilbert ever…" Gilbert lifts his chin as he chokes out another gasp. A bead of sweat rolls down from under his eyepatch in HD4K. Or he's crying. But he's probably not crying.

"I'm not crying. You're crying."

"I am," you say, still sobbing from the euphoric majesty of this experience. "I definitely am. But what were you going to say?"

Gilbert's head comes down on your shoulder. His teeth clamp onto your skin with the force of someone who's just overheard the funniest joke during a funeral and is trying desperately not to laugh.

"Ouchies," you comment. But in truth you barely notice the pain because the dick in your grasp has grown to encompass the whole of your reality.

But Gilbert still switches to cute, squirrel-like nibbles. You've been promoted from rabbit to acorn, just as God intended.

His breathing is even louder now, so close to your ear. If your superpower is super-sonic dick-graffiti, Gilbert's is brainwashing you, with the mere, sweet staccato of his sighs, into thinking you can suck his dick for 2000 hours straight without repercussions.

You believe in the Gilbert that believes in you. If you can't suck dick for that long now, no matter. You will learn. You will practice daily on the yellow fruit known as the banana. You will procure hot dogs only to divorce them from their bun and marry them to your cavernous maw. If Onepunch Man can train himself into godhood with 1000 pushups a day, you can do the same with 1000 daily blowjobs upon phallic-adjacent food.

But part of you wonders how much of this is an act on Gilbert's part. He's never been one to show himself unguarded. And he's every bit the kind of man to fuck with you just to see what you'll do.

He'd never just fuck you though. Maybe the act in itself has no particular meaning for him, but if it involves you...

Oh no, his sexy breathing is making you have lovey-dovey thoughts. Oh no, have you secretly been in love with Gilbert this whole time? Gilbert and not his Triple-S-20-Star-Gacha-Tier Penis? Shouldn't this revelation come after you do?

On the flip-side, your deep and profound introspection has translated into maddeningly sensual strokes of your hand. Or so you imagine, because Gilbert's leaving hickies on you a mile a minute now.

Hmm. What if you bring your hand around the underside...like this... and with his balls...

Gilbert meows.

Like a literal meow.

You're suddenly looking up at the ceiling as Gilbert cups your hand to his freed cock and presses down on you. Keeping your hand still, he grinds himself into your palm in the most beautiful undulation of the human body that you've ever seen. A dancer could not accomplish this. An earthworm, maybe.

"What are you thinking?" Gilbert asks you between deep thrusts and barely-maintained breathing.

You pull the excess snot up back through your nose. "You don't know?"

"Not in this moment." His smile is sad and gorgeous at the same time. "You feel faraway somehow. Like I'm seeing a part of you that I knew nothing about."

"Do you get off on saying angsty things at just the right moment?"

Gilbert grins as his pace picks up.

You reach your free hand up and around to gently grip his back. "I'm thinking about how beautiful you are."

He laughs. "Zero points for originality."

"Do you want me to lie to you?"

"Yes," he says, and it seems to surprise him as much as it surprises you. A drop of sweat falls from his chin onto your cheek. He leans in to kiss it away, hesitating for a second because some of your snot slipped onto your cheek when you'd turned your head briefly to check the time. "Yes," he repeats, as if trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince you. His voice sounds hoarse. His kiss to your cheek lands like rain.

You don't even remember when he comes because you're too busy hugging him super, super, super hard. Not just Peenbert, but Gilbert.

Ah. Peenbert. That's right.

You tell Gilbert the name.

He chuckles and flicks a dried booger from your upper lip.

For a second you think he's going to eat it.

The end.

[themurphyzone]

Pinky the Snowmouse Ch 1

Summary: On a lonely Christmas Eve, a lab mouse finds himself unable to concentrate on world domination. When an ACME scientist claims to own a magic silk hat, Brain initially dismisses it as superstitious nonsense, but finds that this boast could hold more truth than he could ever imagine.   

AN: So I posted this idea back in May (I know, nowhere near Christmas season) but it made for such a viable fic that I had to do it. Besides, I wanted to write a great Christmas fic since I focused more on Halloween last year. 

This fanfiction is also a tribute to all the Christmas specials we love so much every year, from the Christmas Carols to the holiday specials in our favorite cartoons to the Grinches and Rankin-Bass features.

Ch 1: That Old Silk Hat

AO3 Link

It was Christmas Eve, the day bolded and highlighted on the calendar, topped with a picture of Snoopy and his doghouse decked out in festive accessories.

Impossible to miss the overly cheerful music, the jingling bells, and the calls to be charitable to the poorer, less fortunate beings of the world.

Except humans never practiced what they preached.

No matter how much they claimed to care, Brain knew they never would. All of those charitable feelings would vanish as soon as Christmas was over, and they’d go right back to wallowing in their ignorance.

If they truly wanted to be charitable, they’d recognize Brain as the indisputable ruler over the world. But since humans always looked down on non-humans, it was an uphill battle with no end in sight.

But that was just fine with Brain. He wanted to be recognized for his merits and intelligence. He wanted to accomplish something other than achieving the lowest times on maze runs.

In time, his efforts would be rewarded. The bitter defeats would gradually transform into sweet victories.

But for now, he was unable to make headway into world domination since all the ACME employees had gathered by the main entrance, waiting for 3 pm to roll around like a class of bored schoolchildren who desperately wanted to go home.

If the higher ups were expecting all these mediocre scientists to show up for work and be productive on a snowy Christmas Eve, they were sorely mistaken. They were only here to collect their paychecks and didn’t care about scientific progress at all.

One lab tech popped a CD full of classic Christmas songs into an old stereo, and a chorus of Feliz Navidad began. Several scientists spun in their chairs, absentmindedly sucking on candy canes.

Brain was just as impatient as they were, but at least he’d be productive with his time once they all left.

“So ya got any plans, Bill?” a scientist asked.

“Go home,” Bill replied with a shake of his balding head. “Sleep because there’s no way I’m getting any shuteye with the twins bouncing off the walls for their presents tonight.”

“Kids are gonna be like that,” a lab tech spoke up. “I had to stop mine from taste-testing the cookies she wanted to leave out for Santa.”

Laughter rang out from the group, everyone taking turns to relate Christmas mishaps with their families. Soon almost every human joined in on the camereradie, except the most eccentric and inept scientist of them all.

Dr. Henry Hinkle was a man who claimed to bridge the fields of science and magic. However, he was woefully mediocre in both departments, and Brain had long ascertained the man had faked his credentials. Even Hinkle’s fashion sense was peculiar, as his gray lab coat was cut into the style of a magician’s fanciful tailcoat. With his brown handlebar mustache, he seemed more like a harried time traveler from the 19th century than a modern citizen.  

His most prized possession was a tall silk hat with a pink flower attached to the band. Hinkle often claimed it was a magic hat, one that performed wondrous and mystifying deeds far beyond human comprehension. Hinkle was attached to that hat, and nobody had ever seen him in public without it.

Hinkle stood apart from everyone else, an outsider from the science clique. He frantically paced back and forth, desperately trying to get the so-called magic hat to perform properly.

"Say, Hinkle? Didn't you have a gig at the elementary school last week? How'd that go?" Bill called, and all eyes turned to Hinkle, whose eyes nervously flicked back and forth at the sudden attention.

"Swell, very swell," Hinkle mumbled as he nervously fiddled with his hat. "Those little ankle-bi...I mean those delightful, darling angels were floored by my magic."

A woman scoffed and rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. My son was part of that class, and he thought it was the worst Christmas party he'd ever had. How embarrassing that you can't shuffle a deck of cards."

“Madam, I will have you know I can shuffle a deck with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back!” Hinkle retorted. He flicked his left sleeve, and an entire card deck slipped out and spilled onto the ground. As Hinkle bent down in a hasty attempt to get the cards back in order, a small wand, several rubber balls, and colorful scarves tumbled out his other sleeve.

Nobody bothered to help Hinkle out with his misfortune. His coworkers elbowed each other, pointed fingers, and snickered among themselves instead.

The situation was far too pathetic to be humorous.

Brain wasn’t surprised by humans anymore. Peace and goodwill toward their fellow men didn’t exist, though the holiday season claimed otherwise.

It was now 2:40 pm. Only twenty minutes left in this humiliating performance, and Brain could formulate his next plan for world domination without further interruption.  

Hinkle quickly stuffed the mess into his coat pockets. Then he straightened up, pulling on both ends of his bowtie in a vain effort to appear calm and collected once he was finished.

“If your hat really is magic, show us a few tricks!” Bill jeered, and the other employees joined in with challenges of their own.

“Oh, I will. And all of you will feel silly for doubting me after I’m through! Silly, silly, silly indeed!” Hinkle shouted. He tried to remove the hat from his head with a graceful flourish, but clumsily dropped it instead.

He chuckled nervously, a bead of sweat running down his forehead despite the chill.

“As with any exercise, a good magician always warms up with the basics,” Hinkle declared as he showed his audience a small red ball. “For my first trick, I will put this red rubber ball into my magic hat like so, and presto change-o, I have five red rubber balls to-”

He tipped the magic hat upside down. A single red ball bounced out, rolling along the floor before it hit an unimpressed lab tech’s shoe.

“-go,” Hinkle finished dejectedly. He peered into the hat, futilely shaking it as if the other four balls would pop out. Once he realized that wouldn’t be the case, his shoes scuffed the ground in shame as he picked up the single red ball and dropped it back into his hat.

“Look on the bright side, man! You produced invisible balls without trying!” someone called, garnering laughter from the rest of the audience.

Hinkle’s face turned red.

And while the scorn wasn’t directed at Brain, he thought the heckling was an unnecessary endeavor. There was little point in prolonging the man’s misery, no matter how incompetent or delusional he was at magic tricks.

“N-now, as I said before, that was just a warm up,” Hinkle said, nervously tugging at his collar. Then he pulled a small pink scarf out from his pocket, spilling several cards and dice onto the floor again. “But my second trick is sure to amaze you! Watch as I place this scarf into my hat and let the magic focus, now hocus pocus I say, and out come green, gold, and...gray?”

To nobody’s surprise, there was only a lone pink scarf in Hinkle’s hand. “There were supposed to be endless scarves attached to this…” he muttered. It fluttered out of his hand and back into the hat.

But nobody was paying attention to Hinkle anymore. The clock struck three, and the dull atmosphere changed to a holiday-induced fervor as everyone pushed and shoved their way to the front so they could card out and leave.

Brain crept to the front of his cage, one hand resting on his crooked tail as he prepared to unlock the cage and make headway into his plans as soon as they left. He was brimming with viable ideas, and they needed to be written down before he forgot them.

“EVERYBODY, WAIT!” Hinkle bellowed over the noise, and his colleagues turned to him with annoyance written all over their faces.

Brain gritted his teeth. Just let them go already! Was that really so difficult?

“I have one more trick, yes, just one more teensy trick up my sleeve! A real one, I assure you! You won’t be disappointed!” Hinkle said, rubbing his hands together frantically. He emptied his pockets, tossing props everywhere in a vain attempt to find something useful.

Then Hinkle donned a pair of white magician’s gloves, his eyes falling right on Brain. And Brain realized he was about to be conscripted as an unwilling volunteer.

Since his usual tactic of biting fingers until he was left alone wouldn’t work on gloved hands, Brain beat a hasty retreat to the back of his cage, intending to use the exercise wheel as further cover.

But he only made it halfway to the wheel when the door opened and gloved fingers pinched his tail, dragging him out of the cage and dangling him over the magic hat for everyone to see.

“Watch as I transform this ugly lab mouse into a beautiful dove!” Hinkle yelled, and just as Brain processed the insult, he was unceremoniously dropped into the hat. He fell right on top of the rubber ball, knocking the wind out of him. “Abracadabra alakazam!”

Brain pressed himself against the inside folds of the hat as he tried to catch his breath, but he was only given a moment of reprieve before he was snatched up and thrown into the air, as if Hinkle expected him to grow wings because of a nonsensical phrase.

He slammed against the window and fell to the table below, shaking his head to clear away the stars circling in his vision. Every part of his body ached, agony starting from the tip of his tail and snaking up his spine. Slowly, he sat up and checked himself over in the window.

There was a distinct lack of avian features in his reflection, as he expected. He had a new break in his tail from the rough treatment, but there weren’t any other new markings.  

Everyone stared at Brain in silence, and the only sounds were barely suppressed squeaks of disbelief from Hinkle and a chorus of Deck the Halls.

Then there was a booming laugh.

“Prettiest dove I’ve ever seen!” Bill said, to the mirth of his coworkers.  

Brain’s ears flattened, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

His fists clenched at the sound of their mockery. He never chose to be involved in this ridiculous demonstration. Or deal with their scorn and stupidity every day. Or live at ACME Labs at all, where he had to suffer through experiment after experiment on top of attempting world domination and failing every single night.

“Come back! I have trick cards! Magic 8-balls! I’ll saw something in half and put it back together, I swear!” Hinkle shouted at the scientists’ retreating figures as they all carded out and stepped into the bitter chill of winter. They shuffled through the snow-covered property and into their vehicles, not wishing to be delayed any longer.

The prized silk hat crumpled in Hinkle’s hand.

“Bah! The only thing this junk hat’s good for is the trash can!” Hinkle snarled as he hurled the hat at the wastebasket by the door, but it only hit the nearby wall instead.

Then he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Brain peered out the window, his breath forming a small patch of fog against the cold glass as he watched Hinkle trudge towards the city. He waited a minute to ensure Hinkle wasn't coming back, then rushed over to a drawer where he'd hidden a roll of blueprints and writing utensils.

He was finally, blissfully alone.

Strands of colorful Christmas lights twinkled along the walls, casting a festive hue onto the unfurled blueprints.

Solve for x. Cube the most wonderful time of the year. Multiply by pi.

Peppermints, candy canes, and chocolates were mixed together in a snowflake-patterned bowl. Brain snacked on one of the chocolates as he scribbled a preliminary design for a machine. The candy was bittersweet on his tongue.

Sodium and chloride to form an ionic bond. Three irons needed to balance the equation. Symbol H stood for the hap-happiest season of all.

Only the scratching of his pencil, the hum of a heater which barely worked, and an old, droning carol. The Christmas bells subdued, the computers shut off.

And hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. Loved ones are near. Loved ones are near...  

There was a wet spot on the blueprint, directly over where he was trying to write. Frowning, he rubbed out the excess moisture, but only succeeded in smudging his numbers. He started over in an empty space, only for the wetness to appear again. Annoyed, he flipped his pencil around and rubbed the grayed area with his eraser.

The blueprint ripped.

Though the hole was tiny and didn’t affect the rest of his work in the slightest, it seemed that his plan had failed before he’d implemented it.

And it occurred to him that he’d never considered how the machine would function or how it would help him accomplish his takeover.

His face felt strange, so he rubbed his cheeks to get rid of the sensation. His hand came away damp.

Oh.

He was crying.

It was that stupid song’s fault. He dropped his pencil and walked over to the stereo, slamming his hand against the stop button just as the song reached its end.

The sound cut off immediately.

Only the dying thrums of a malfunctioning heater now.

The silence was overwhelming.

Christmas media always said the holiday season was a joyous occasion for family and friends, a time for reflection and rebirth as the year wrapped up and began anew.

But it was just propaganda. Nothing more than lies so people would praise themselves as right and virtuous and loving when they were nothing of the sort.

Brain splashed cold water onto his face, ridding himself of the useless tears. Then he looked out the window. A light flurry had begun, the clouds low and dreary gray. The land was already blanketed in snow from the blizzard on the winter equinox, and temperatures hadn’t warmed up since.

And while there were footprints in the snow from passersby, much of the surrounding property was untouched.

Maybe that’s what he needed.

An opportunity to numb himself, to walk around in the cold and discard these useless, empty aches in his chest.

He tore up his blueprint and threw it away. He was better off starting over after his stint outside.

Then he put on his winter gear, nicked from a doll somebody had brought in as a donation to a toy drive, but now lay forgotten in the lab.

The thick white jacket was comfortable and padded with extra fluff. He threw the hood over his head and tucked in his ears, then pulled on his snow boots and gloves.

As he wound a long piece of string around the window latch, he caught sight of the silk hat that laid beside the wastebasket, considered nothing more than trash since it wouldn’t do what Hinkle wanted. The rubber ball and scarf was still inside, crumpled and forgotten.

Magic wasn’t real. It was simply the art of misdirection and illusion. Or a word the uneducated used to describe occurrences they couldn’t explain with science.

Despite his beliefs, Brain built a simple pulley system with thick yarn and an empty spool to haul the silk hat up to the counter.

He could use the hat for extra fabric. Repurpose it. Shrink it so he could have a formal hat for himself.

He opened the window, allowing the cold wind to numb the exposed fur on his face. With all the flurries, he’d probably regret this decision later, but that wasn’t anything new. Then he dropped the loose end of the string outside and tugged the knot around the latch. Once he was satisfied with the knot’s tightness, he dropped the silk hat into the snow-covered bushes below.

It was ironic, how he experimented with chemicals and complicated machinery every night, but didn’t know what he was doing with a simple hat.

Maybe that humiliating demonstration had messed with his mind, overriding all his logic and planning capabilities.

But it seemed like such a flimsy excuse, not providing a satisfactory explanation as to why he’d dragged a so-called magic hat outside on what was supposed to be a simple break.

Brain slid down the string, his boots crunching against the snow as he landed. He stuck out a gloved hand, catching several flurries.

No two snowflakes looked alike, they always said. But their crystalline structures couldn’t be seen without a microscope, so they were nothing more than white powder to the naked eye. He rolled the flurries in his palm until they formed a tiny snowball.

It gave him an idea.

But...it was childish. Stupid.

Yet he found himself rolling snow anyway.

This patch of the property was completely undisturbed, so he had a nice layer of clean, white snow untouched by human footprints to work with.

Nobody was around to see him. And it gave his hands something to do instead of remaining idle.

He quickly found that rolling snow into a spherical shape per the typical snowman wasn’t as easy as television depicted. The snow didn’t want to move in the way he wanted, and it came out as a lumpy, ovular mound that happened to be the same size as him.

He kicked aside a thin, whiplike twig that had broken off from one of the nearby bushes as he gathered more snow to form the head. Then he reconsidered and picked up the twig.

In his hands, it looked very similar to a mouse’s tail. One that wasn’t broken by mishandling.

While he didn’t have the height or the tools required for a full-sized snowman, maybe he could create a snowmouse instead.

He carefully threaded the twig into the backside of the mound, curling it around so it resembled an actual tail.

Then he brushed extra snow away from the front, smoothing out the mound until it had the snowy equivalent of legs.

The head was more difficult to sculpt, but he managed to create something that would be recognizable as a mouse’s head, with two small snowballs forming the ears and a muzzle that jutted out. He would’ve made the muzzle smaller, but the increased size was necessary to counterweight the ears. Lastly, he slid two sticks into each side of the snowmouse to serve as arms.

The snowmouse was twice Brain’s height, and while it had the proportions of a mouse, it was ultimately just a cold white body with three embedded twigs. No personality, no splashes of color.

Anyone could easily miss or step on it.

The snowmouse would be gone by next week, once the temperature rose above freezing. No trace of his handiwork would remain.

Such was life. Short and brutal, with nothing to show for it.

The faceless snowmouse seemed oddly alone, the only other thing besides Brain in this wintery courtyard. There wasn’t anything for either of them here.

“Sorry,” Brain said, unsure of why he was apologizing to something that couldn’t hold a conversation. He’d wasted far too much time here. He had to get back to his plans. “I’m going inside.” 

A chilly breeze blew, and Brain held fast to his hood so it didn’t come off. As he turned to the lab, he saw the silk hat become airborne, flying several feet until it landed by Brain and the snowmouse.

He didn’t think the breeze had been that strong.

But the strangest part was how the hat was much smaller than before. It wouldn’t fit a human anymore.

Even the red rubber ball and pink scarf shrunk. And there were several pebbles that hadn’t been there previously, though Brain guessed they could’ve just gotten inside when he’d dropped the hat.

Brain stared at the items, then back at the snowmouse.

“Just this once,” he sighed as he draped the scarf between the main body and head, then placed the rubber ball at the end of the muzzle for a nose.

Two of the pebbles became unseeing eyes, though Brain was at a loss of what he should do with the other two pebbles. He tried using them as a replacement for buttons on the body, but that didn’t seem right. And placing them on the cheeks just looked awkward.  

Brain held a pebble in each hand, stepping back to determine the placement. But he didn’t find anything satisfactory.

He was about to discard the pebbles entirely, but then he noticed that the snowmouse seemed to have an odd pair of buckteeth sticking out at the end of its muzzle with the way he held the pebbles.

Perhaps he should’ve left it as a matter of perspective. It was stupid. It was silly.

But Brain stuck the pebbles on the underside of the muzzle anyway.

The snowmouse looked ridiculous with its red rubber nose, pink scarf, and pebbles for eyes and goofy buckteeth.

Another breeze picked up, and one of the snowmouse’s stick arms waved, moving up and down like it was saying hello.

Like it was...friendly. Alive. Happy.

Slowly, Brain approached the snowmouse. He placed one hand on the snowmouse’s body, balanced on his tiptoes, and threw the silk hat on top.

For reasons Brain couldn’t explain, the hat just seemed to go with the rest of the snowmouse.

And then he caught himself.

What a ridiculous concept.

Creating a snowmouse wasn’t his worst transgression, if he’d just left it at the creation process. No, instead he had to go personifying it! Assigning qualities that shouldn’t be designated to inanimate objects!

Snow wasn’t alive. It was water. That’s all it was.

“You’re snow. You’re just a pile of frozen water!” Brain yelled, turning away from the snowmouse. Enough with these idiotic fantasies. He was going inside, back to the cruel reality of trying to take over the world. “You’re not alive, so just leave me alone! Quit toying with my perception!”

He stomped towards the window, but only made it a few steps before an odd sound gave him pause.

“Toys? Narrrrrf! That sounds like jolly good fun! Can I play with toys too?”

Brain looked over his shoulder, and promptly tripped over himself in surprise.

A pair of bright blue eyes was looking back at him. Actual eyes, not pebbles.

And the snowmouse was talking.

End AN: I feel really bad for calling Brain ugly. *sobs*

I actually kinda find writing Hinkle’s dialogue fun. A bit of a strange character to crossover with, but fun. Hocus Pocus the Rabbit won’t be making an appearance. 

Also some changes will be made from the original Frosty the Snowman cause some parts of the cartoon don’t make sense. A greenhouse at the North Pole, really?

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt68

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Discorde waited impatiently for the light filtering through the vent in front of her to go out. Her body and even the air around her felt tense with anticipation… and something else she did quite know how to describe. It only increased her unease since Plagg told her that the more in tune she became with the Miraculous, the more she would be able to sense shifts in luck. The real problem was that she had no idea how it was shifting even if that’s what she felt.

As soon as the light went out she moved to the vent silently. She could hear Hawkmoth below her cursing and banging on the door. It loosened some of her anxiety since any small noises she made while removing the cover would go unnoticed. She stuck her head through the opening and found him exactly where she expected him. She dropped to the floor and called for her power as she approached her target. The man was still trying to find somewhere he could grab the sealed door to try and force it open.

As soon as she was close enough she brushed her hand over his cane, before immediately moving to his non dominant side. As she expected he turned as soon as he felt the cane give in his hand. She reached around the other side to take his Miraculous but he grabbed her arm and threw her over his shoulder back into the middle of the room.

“Red, now.” As soon as she spoke soft lights turned on and Ladybug dropped through the vent with Raphael following as soon as she was clear. Viperion apparently decided to stay in the ductwork. One more surprise should things go wrong. A shield surrounded them and she felt her hackles rise at how calm the man in front of her was.

“It’s over Hawkmoth. Give up your Miraculous, there’s no need for more violence.” As much as she appreciated her girlfriend’s belief in people’s ability to change she mentally rolled her eyes. If it were that easy they would have taken him down on the first try.

“Stupid child, you don’t even know the power you possess. If you did this would all be over.” Ladybug frowned at him, but not in annoyance. Discorde knew that look all too well. She was actually going to try and reason with the bastard.

“I know that I could easily have used my and my partner’s Miraculous to wish for yours, or even to wish that none of this had happened. I know exactly how much power I have and unlike you I know the consequences of my actions. Making a wish, any wish, throws off the natural balance of things and whether you realize it or not it sets a chain of events into motion that could have devastating results. Chances are high that whatever it is you plan to wish for will only bring you more pain and suffering. If you tell me what it is you want the Miraculous for perhaps we can help you without it.”

The man’s stoic facade broke as he burst out laughing. She saw Raphael tense at the sound that held more madness and disdain than humor. She wouldn’t say that the man was ever stable, but this was a new level of crazy she hadn’t expected. She felt a pressure in her mind and knew Plagg was trying to warn her of something. She also realized that her ring hadn’t beeped so he was forcing her transformation to hold longer. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Do you honestly think you can do what all my money, power, and connections could not? I don’t care who you are under that mask, there is nothing you can do. Not to mention now that the Wayne brat and his father have decided to ruin me, the only way to fix things is to make my wish. I will have your Miraculous.” He seemed far too confident and Plagg was pushing at her mind again. That air of luck shifting was getting stronger and she could only wait to see what it brought. Too late, she saw the hand behind Gabriel’s back twitch and noticed he held something.

Discorde dove for Ladybug as soon as the motion penetrated but she could only watch as some sort of throwing knife entered her midsection and she fell to the floor. She was vaguely aware of Raphael moving to attack and shielding them. The only thing she could concentrate on was the blood until Ladybug forced her to look her in the eye.

“This needs to end now. Get his Miraculous.” The pain and determination in her words caused something inside Discorde to snap. Suddenly she didn’t have to find that deep dark well of energy that Plagg had taught her to tap into. It was all around her, begging her to unleash the chaos and destruction that was always waiting just out of sight. She had just enough reason left to know that if she let it take over she’d become something far worse than Hawkmoth could ever hope to be.

She turned to see the man taunting his opponent. It was obvious he expected it to be just another teenager who had no training and no idea what they were getting into so he wasn’t taking the fight seriously. She was channeling her rage and power into a specific point though she had no idea what it would bring until a crossbow appeared in her hand pulsing with energy. She felt the luck shift again as she took aim and this time knew exactly what it meant.

She loosed the bolt and watched as it went through his left palm only to embed itself in his right. He let out a howl of rage and pain but she ignored it as she lined up another shot. That one embedded itself in his thigh and she actually heard his bone crack as the full force of it hit. He fell to the floor, crippled and bleeding, as she walked over calmly to stand over him. She saw real fear in his eyes as she stood over him and the only thought she could manage was ‘it’s about time’. She kept the crossbow trained on his head before addressing Raphael.

“Take his Miraculous so Ladybug can cast her cure and end this.” She didn’t even recognize her voice and all she could focus on was how easy it would be to just end the worthless person in front of her. The darkness around her urged her to remove him from the world so he couldn’t upset the balance further. It wasn’t until a familiar figure stepped in front of her that she even realized he was no longer transformed.

“Discorde, I need you to breathe with me. You can’t let it take over or you’ll lose yourself. I’ll lose you.” She could only blink at Ladybug in confusion for a moment as the power slowly receded. She heard her tell the others to take Gabriel to his office to wait for the police. She said something about a safe and a book too, but Discorde was too busy staring at her girlfriend’s abdomen, making sure there was no more blood, to really pay attention.

“Chloe, I need you to take me somewhere.” It was only when she used her real name that she even realized her transformation had finally given out. Plagg was silently shoving cheese down his throat to recharge and Ladybug’s face held both worry and resignation. “The cure didn’t work completely and I need you to take me to someone who might be able to help.” Chloe watched in horror as her transformation dropped and she fell to the floor.

“Mari!” This couldn’t be happening. She searched for a wound but couldn’t find one. “What happened? What do you mean the cure didn’t work?” She was frantic as she tried to find something to explain what she meant. It was Tikki that answered.

“You and Hawkmoth both used pure energy. For you it was pure chaos, for him pure spite. I couldn’t heal all the internal damage and the knife made it all the way to Marinette’s spine. While transformed I can make up for the deficiency, but I can’t fix it.” The Kwami sounded so devastated but Chloe still didn’t understand.

“I’m paralyzed Chloe. The knife severed part of my spine. I need you to transform and take me to Master Fu because it will take Tikki hours to recover from trying to heal me.”

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

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[sweetsmellosuccess]

The Sátántangó Experience

How exactly does one prepare to watch a 7.5 hour film? A bit like what you might do in preparation for major surgery: Pack a bag of necessities (in this case, water and protein bars), kiss your loved ones goodbye, and try to make peace with your god. Or, maybe less dramatically, treat it as you would a long train journey, one that takes you through some harrowing terrain on half a rutted track before depositing you to your eventual destination.

Of course, this sort of conception of time is entirely relative: If you have to drive somewhere that takes half an hour, it feels unduly long; but if the trip were normally three hours long, and you somehow found a shortcut that would cut the time down to 30 minutes, you would be flying on dulcet wings for that amount of time, and think you were blessed by angels. In other words, spending an entire standard work day watching one film might seem excessive, but it all has to do with your expectations.

In my case, I was at Philadelphia’s newly renovated Lightbox Theater at the University of the Arts to take in Béla Tarr’s magnum opus Sátántangó, all glorious 450 minutes, in a new 4K restoration (it’s currently playing at select theaters across the country). Armed with my snack survival kit, and safe in the knowledge that we would get intermissions at roughly 2.5 hour intervals, I settled in to watch what has been described as a masterpiece in cinephile circles, and currently resides at number 36 in the most recent Sight & Sound critics’ poll.

Tarr’s beyond-bleak film is broken up into 12 segments, each having to do with a failing farmer’s cooperative in Hungary during the last throes of communism in the late ‘80s. Each section has its own feel and perspective  —  some of them are more lighthearted, others are desolate beyond measure  —  but all expertly shot in low-contrast black and white (by Gábor Medvigy), which renders the people and landscape in various tones of drudgery grey.

It originally opened in America as part of the 1994 New York film festival, at a time when Hungary was undergoing a transformation from Communism to shaky democratic capitalism, so it served as a kind of epigraph to the era, a showcase, as it were, as to the imperfections of a political system built on a promise of human egalitarianism that proved to be depressingly difficult to put into practice.

The landscape makes up a lot of Tarr’s vision, the flat, moody farmland upon which the collective has been toiling, and the unceasing rain and wind that constantly pelts the characters as they venture outside for one business or another. As the film opens, the collective  —  made up of three couples; a curious “doctor” (Peter Berling), who spends his time spying on the others, making copious notes in his stacks of file folders, and daily drinking his considerable body weight in Palinka (Hungarian plum brandy); and the cagey Futaki (Miklos Szekely B.), who has to walk with a cane from an unspecified accident, but seems a bit more shrewd than the others  —  is anxiously awaiting their annual wages, which come all at once and is meant to get divvied up amongst the members equally.

Early on, there are various halfcocked plans from individuals to try and steal the small fortune for themselves, reflected in much idle talk about meeting that evening and decamping for parts unknown, but that ultimately come to nothing. However, when word reaches the group that the mysterious Irimiás (Mihály Vig, also the film’s composer) is, in fact, not dead as they had been told, but alive, and returning to the collective he started, the group dynamic is thrown akimbo, with various members fretting for their future, and, one, the owner of the local bar (Zoltán Kamondi), furious at the thought his business will be taken from him. 

Just why they respond like this remains vague. In ensuing segments, we see Irimiás, along with his associate, Petrina (Dr. Putyi Horvath), navigating through a police interview  —  where the local Captain informs them they will be working for him now in ways unspecified  —  though it appears the collective had very actively planned on not having to include their former leader (and his right-hand man) in their financial arrangements. As for the non-collective characters, including the aforementioned barkeep, and various prostitutes sitting idly around, the collective is virtually their only business, such as it is, so they, too, await this potential flood of cash eagerly.

As the segments begin to collect, they also begin to fold upon themselves: Scenes that we see from one vantage point in an earlier segment are revisited later on, from the perspective of a different character, enabling a thrilling moment of realization that the stream of time we’re following has breaks, jumps, and hiccoughs throughout. Never more poignantly than a moment with a young girl peering into a window of the bar  —  one of the only lit buildings in the otherwise dismally dark countryside  —  watching the adults inside drunkenly dancing and cavorting.

About that girl. Easily the most emotional moment of the film involves her, but not first without the audience paying a heavy price, depending on your empathy for other creatures. Before the film screened, during its introduction, we were made aware that there was a scene of animal cruelty involving a cat somewhere in the proceedings. The sympathetic presenter, himself a cat lover, suggested looking away for parts of that segment, though a friend of mine in attendance who had seen it before assured me looking away wasn’t really an option. Fortunately, he also told me that the cat in question wasn’t actually hurt, and was still alive at the time of a 2012 interview with Tarr.

Needless to say, my worry about this poor cat dominated my experience in the early going: Every time I saw a feline in the background of a scene, I worried that it was coming up, such that it was almost a relief when it finally happened. The situation is this: Estike (Erica Bók), the young daughter of one of the local prostitutes, caught up in her world of half-fantasies after being sent out of their apartment by her working mother, holes up in an attic with a grey tabby. At first, she pets and cuddles him, but eventually, she desires to control him, bend the cat to her will. To the cat’s increasing discomfort and fury, she grabs him by the front paws and rolls around with him, all the while muttering how she alone can determine its fate. Looping up the poor fellow in a net bag and hanging it from a post, she goes downstairs to mix a batch of milk with some rat poison powder and force feeds him until he dies (though in actuality merely tranquilized).

Wandering around the farm that night with the stiffened body of the cat tucked under her arm (a prosthetic, the director assures us), Estike runs into the doctor, shuffling outside to refill his giant jug of brandy, shortly after peering through the window of the bar. Eventually, she lies down amongst the deserted crumble of a bomb-blasted church and takes the poison herself.

As gruesome as the segment becomes, its haunting evocations permeate the rest of the film (though not immediately: in a jarring juxtaposition, the very next segment takes us back to the bar, where everyone is still dancing wildly about to a loopy accordion refrain —  only towards the end of this extended scene do we see the face of the soon-to-be-dead Estike peering inside). Eventually, Irimiás does indeed return, in time to give a moving eulogy for Estike, while at the same time transitioning the group towards his next vision, a new farm some distance away where he assures them they can finally live freely and thrive. All he needs to achieve this goal for them is the money they just received from their previous year’s efforts.

With nowhere else to go, and no other plan on the horizon, the members of the collective dutifully deposit their wages on the table in front of their leader. He sends them out to pack their things so that they may meet with him in a couple of days at the new farm he’s selected.

Gathering their miserable belongings, the group reassemble and trudge down the muddy road on foot, as the rain pelts down on them without ceasing. Distressingly, the members don’t have any proper rain coats  —  in an earlier soliloquy in the bar, Kráner (János Derszi) laments that his leather coat is so old and stiff he has to bend it in order to sit down  —  so they wear their woolen winter coats, which do little to keep them from getting soaked in the heavy fall rains.

As they make their way to this new destination, it’s clear that Irimiás is up to something. Most obviously, he could make off with their wages and move on, but it turns out his scheme is less direct than just taking their hard-earned money for himself.

Towards the second half, Tarr’s penchant for long, elegantly composed shots gives gradually away to more adventurous camerawork, including a single steadicam shot in the woods that’s like something out of a Sam Raimi film. There are extensive elliptical shots with the camera spinning slowly on an axis, this particular effect never more effective than when after the group arrives at their new farm, yet another dilapidated series of box-like concrete buildings. Once they dump their belongings and lie on the floor of the unheated, broken-windowed main house, trying to sleep, our narrator makes one of his occasional VO appearances to describe in intimate detail the dreams each character is having.

It’s a shot that could have served as an excellent final salvo, one would imagine. Indeed, by the last hour of this opus, time and again, Tarr arrives at what might be considered a conclusive moment  —  in this, the confusion is aided by his particular style: It turns out many films end on a superbly composed, static long shot  —  only to keep the narrative flowing, circling back, eventually to the original farm, where the doctor, having just returned from a stint in a hospital, begins to narrate, again, the original opening lines. Such is the perfection in this device (the segment is titled “The Circle Closes”) that once you finally arrive there, it’s clear there could be no other ending that would have sufficed.

When finally the film ended, it was later in the evening. I met up with my compatriots also in attendance, and the three of us ventured back out into the city, heading to a bar where we could nurse a beer and attempt to articulate the tangled mass of feelings and impressions of the previous nine hours. In one of the very few bars in the city that still allows smoking, appropriately enough, we debated about the film in an atmosphere swirling with the poisonous fumes of an earlier era. It seemed hopeless, but still necessary, somehow; like bidding farewell to someone already in a coma.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: The Shining Beacon Pt. 1

This is a reposting from October 4th, 2017 in an effort to get all my recaps onto tumblr. Thanks!

Welcome back, welcome back. We're starting off this recap exactly where we left off--with Ruby, Yang, and Jaune approaching Beacon--which gives the first two episodes a cohesive feeling, like they're just one episode sliced in half. RWBY gets better at this as the volumes go on, but Volume 1 in particular reads less like distinct stories and more like one story that was divided up, if only because our expectations regarding form demand it. I'd love to see a supercut of Volume 1 with the credits removed to see how well it all actually flows together.

After getting another shot of Beacon we're treated to a scene of Jaune rushing off the airship and vomiting copiously into a very convenient trashcan. It's a bold way to introduce a character, especially since we've already had four trailers displaying the girls' skills, an episode all about Ruby's moral compass, and a decent amount of time showcasing Yang's sisterly devotion. Making Jaune into "vomit boy" is comparatively cruel--which is largely the point. Though he'll get his character development soon enough (a bit in this episode, actually) RWBY is making sure we're clear about where their loyalties lie, so to speak. Though they're working with a very large cast, they're much more concerned with emulating magical girl storylines (Sailor Moon, Powerpuff Girls, Puella Magi Madoka Magic) than they are the lone, male shounen hero (Naruto, Fullmetal Alchemist, Dragonball Z). By taking the blonde-haired knight stereotype and reimagining him as the fool, RWBY ensures that we know who the "real" heroes of the story are. Jaune absolutely becomes a hero too as RWBY continues, but his status as "vomit boy" reassures us that he's not going to dominate the narrative.

Instead Ruby and Yang leave him behind as they exit the airship, surrounded by more hilarious silhouette people. I'd actually love it if RWBY came up with an in-universe explanation for this (beyond the great RWBY Chibi skit). Maybe there really is a whole species of people out there made entirely of shadows!

Hell, stranger things have happened in this show.

As they reach Beacon's courtyard Ruby becomes so excited by everyones' weaponry that she turns into a chibi version of herself, another technique that touches on RWBY's anime roots and that will eventually be left behind. As the series gets darker we see fewer of these non-diegetic details, like Ruby spinning with swirly eyes or Jaune geeking out over detective badges with literal stars spouting up around him. Though these techniques do an excellent job of conveying emotion to the viewer, they have a kiddie feel to them that becomes out of place post "Beginning of the End."

For now though Ruby is enthralled. At Yang's insistence that they're "just weapons" Ruby exclaims, "Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves. They're a part of us!"

(Art by Eunnieverse)

This is a fantastic bit of world building. As we learn later in the episode, Ruby (like all Signal students, and presumably most Huntsmen) built her own weapon, designing and crafting it over who knows how many years, suggesting that, yes, in this universe weapons really are an extension of the self. We can thus read characterization in each person's choice. Roman, who uses manners as his decoy, keeps a dapper cane with a hidden pistol inside. Glynda embodies order to contrast Ozpin's more free spirit, so she directs all of her power through a riding crop. Meanwhile Ruby is the "adorable girl" who will continually defy expectations. Thus, she wields a scythe that's taller than she is and that's also a "high impact sniper rifle,” the exact opposite of what we’d expect a cute teen to carry. Despite her sister's teasing that Ruby needs to make some real friends, she's right that in Remnant meeting new weapons is a lot like meeting new people.

Speaking of friends, Yang ditches Ruby for hers... who are promptly never mentioned again. They're clearly just a plot device to get Ruby on her own, but like our silhouette people (of which Yang's group is a part) I'd love an explanation for how she got in good with this Beacon group before ever setting foot on campus. Or whether they’re all Signal graduates who then, presumably, should all be pretty close... 

Regardless, poor Ruby is left floundering, wondering where she's supposed to go or what she's supposed to do. I feel ya. She ends up collapsing into a massive pile of luggage.

Ruby: "I don't know what I'm doing."

"What are you doing?"

Nice parallel there! Enter Weiss, the owner of said luggage, who is literally framed as the bossy, dominant personality as she towers over Ruby.

We get more world building/exposition as Weiss yells about what dust is and what it can do. Her anger is, surprisingly, not just stemming from a rich girl having her stuff messed with, but because Ruby is knocking into cases chock-full of an explosive substance. Were any of these cases to break they might set off a rather violent reaction--as we see when Ruby sneezes into a cloud of dust and lightning erupts. The irony is that this only happens because Weiss is shaking the bottle of dust erratically in Ruby's face. I love these little moments that highlight how these girls are still kids in many respects, capable of doing stupid things even as they play at being mature.

Still disgusted with Ruby's behavior, Weiss asks, "Aren't you a little young to be attending Beacon?" which tells us that, yeah, Ruby does look young. It's hard to tell with Rooster Teeth's art style, but here we're explicitly told that Ruby looks like a child compared to the other students. Her age is recognizable. That will impact how others relate to and (in some cases) underestimate her.

We learn that Beacon isn't your "ordinary combat school" (what does that mean exactly? Are there other upper-level schools where the students train but don't fight live Grimm?) and Ruby finally looses her patience with all the lecturing.

Ruby: "I said I was sorry, Princess."

"It's Heiress, actually."

Enter Blake. For a millisecond Weiss is thrilled that someone is showing her the respect she thinks she deserves, until Blake follows that little correction up with a list of critiques, including the Schnee's "controversial labor forces and questionable business partners"--more on that as it develops. Ruby cracks up, clearly more interested in Weiss getting her just desserts than thinking through the implications of Blake's words. She then wanders off before Ruby can introduce herself.

The team is now technically complete, even if the girls don't know it yet. Again, RWBY is rather blunt when it comes to many narrative devices. With the exception of Jaune we know exactly who our protagonists are by order of who the show has bothered to introduce to us. 

Ruby is still at a loss though. She hilariously collapses in the courtyard and lies there until "vomit boy" gets his real introduction.

I honestly don't understand why so much of the fandom hates on Jaune (except logically I do: it stems from a dual worry that Jaune will sideline our female cast and that he’s become a full-fledged Gary Stu BUT). He's just a nice guy here, and I do mean literally nice, not a Nice Guy with a capital 'N' and 'G.' Yes, we see his misogynistic views that he'll heap on Weiss with, "Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it” and his inappropriate insistence thatt she date him, but Jaune deliberately comes across as someone emulating bad advice about how to make friends/find a date. From the start we’re meant to understand that his perception is inaccurate and he will (as seen) grow out of it. To say nothing of the fact that the narrative undermines his views twice with Ruby's "Do they?" and his more genuine belief that "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet." That's the real Jaune Arc.

He and Ruby wander off together and it's here that we get our first glimpse at Pumpkin Pete under Jaune's armor. I'm honestly impressed that Rooster Teeth had that detail in right from the start.

They talk weaponry, with Ruby showing off Crescent Rose--"It's also a gun"--and Jaune getting self-conscious about his hand-me-downs. Besides him staring up at Beacon's statue in the opening credits, this is our first hint that Jaune comes from a long line of prestigious Huntsmen. It also provides a contrast between what fighting Grimm once was and what it has now become. Jaune's weapons are a simple sword and a shield whose only 'upgrade' is that it gets smaller so you can put it on your belt, but of course it still weighs the same. Ruby, meanwhile, has three forms of Crescent Rose: storage, sniper rifle, and scythe, and she can use all three in a variety of ways. In short, fighting Grimm has become incredibly high-tech, suggesting that the fight itself is always getting harder. Swords and shields just don't cut it anymore even if they, like Jaune, are "classic."

They keep wandering, realizing too late that each was following the other and they still have no idea where they're heading. Like Yang's vomit panic last episode, "The Shining Beacon" ends on a lighthearted note with Jaune wondering if there's a foodcourt nearby.

There is and you're both going to help destroy it in the most epic food fight imaginable.

But that's a whole Volume off.

Until next time~

[paradoxicalca]

r/hockey NHL Power Rankings Week 2: Nature's Wrath Edition

/r/Hockey NHL Power Rankings Week Oct 7, 2019 - Oct 13, 2019 (30/31 Rankers Reporting)Thank YouThank you to all of the volunteers doing the power rankings. Each ranker has their own system and have their own reasonings and analyis. It truly is a lot of work.RankersSpoilerOrganizersSpoilerVisualizationThe visualization contains historical data, so you can see how your team has done over time. Hopefully, we can run this for many years in hopes that we can see the rise and fall of teams by /r/hockey opinion.It automatically updates so feel free to bookmark. You can find it hereProcessHow does this work? Throughout the course of the week rankers are able to access an app that will allow them to rank teams. At the end of the period we calculate the average ranking for every team and collate all of the analysis provided by rankers.The app then generates a post that is first proofread and then posted to /r/hockey!RankingsRanking (avg)TeamDeltaOverall RecordRecord This WeekComments1 (2.61)Colorado Avalanche34-0-02-0-0Week two same as the first 2-0 and the Avs remain unbeaten. Honestly it has been impressive. MacKinnon still seems frustrated and not quite firing 100%, so that is scary for other teams. The depth has been there though Kadri finally got rewarded and Burkovsky had two GWG, Jost got his first and the PK looked slightly better. Best news on that front is Ian Cole should be back soon and will travel on the road trip. Defensive zone giveaways are still the big weakness of this team combined with the young d-core, but we will get better, and the great passes generally out weigh the giveaways. Avs have a really hard 6 game road trip coming up with the easiest teams being a beat up Pittsburgh and Florida, neither of those are easy games. We start of with a matinee in D.C. on Monday. Calder Watch: Makar now has 5 points in 4 games with two primary assists in the win against the Coyotes on Saturday, He is still averaging about 20 min a night. Barnacle_Ed says Undefeated and boasting the likes of Mackinnon, Rantanen, and Makar, this team is all but a lock for a playoffs spot in the West.2 (2.97)Carolina Hurricanes45-1-02-1-05-1-0 to start the season, two early Norris candidates in Slavin and Hamilton, and Svechnikov coming into his own as a play maker has Canes fans ecstatic. Aho has had a slow start, lets see how the following weeks California trip goes for him, fans hope to see his production kick off.3 (3.42)Boston Bruins-14-1-02-1-0The Bruins finished up their first road trip with 6 points in 4 games which is an impressive way to start the season. The Bruins came into Vegas with a sluggish start but then turned on the offense and responded with 4 unanswered goals for a win.The Avs provided to be a very formidable opponent, handing the Bruins their first loss of the season in a wacky game with two, rightfully, overturned Bruins goals. The Bruins returned home for their season opener and put on a clinic against the Devils for Rask's first shutout of the season. The special teams are starting to get a good rhythm going and more depth is showing up on the scoreboard on a consistent basis. In the buzzsaw that is the Atlantic, the Bruins can't take the foot off the gas to fall behind other teams also high in the standings.4 (5.53)Edmonton Oilers105-0-03-0-0A blazing powerplay and penalty kill have powered the Oilers to an undefeated 5-0-0 to start their season. Real Deal Neal is scoring at a fiery pace. The wins are from some spectacular offensive performances from Klefbom, Nuge, McDavid, and Draisaitl this past week. Nurse is dominant on defense, and goaltending has been solid (though nothing spectacular). The Oilers performance is undeniably unsustainable, but comeback victories this week against Oilers, Devils, and Rangers have many believing that this team looks to make magic happen for this entire season. Let's see where this goes.5 (6.5)Buffalo Sabres34-0-12-0-1We have had a nice string of games to start the season, however these last few look quite different from the first couple. Columbus really had our number; we barely had any chances and were badly out-shot. We somehow dragged that game into OT and came away with a point, but yikes. The Florida game could have had a much higher score if not for Bobrovsky, and at times Ullmark. Its not a good sign that we need extra time every night to get the job done, given how that turned out last year after the streak. However, the only real problem I see right now is an invisible third line. That would be Vesey-Mittelstadt-Sheary/E-Rod. Don't be fooled by the flashy shootout winner, we will need to see production from all four lines if we want any chance at making the playoffs this year. Speaking of invisible,someone should tell Krueger to put a third player on with Skinner and MoJo.6 (7.87)Vegas Golden Knights-44-2-02-2-0After dropping two straight games against Boston and Arizona, Vegas bounced back really strong against Calgary and Los Angeles. Cody Eakin's return allowed Gerard Gallant to reunite the Pacioretty - Stasty - Stone line and has worked wonders for them. Marc-Andre Fluery has been fantastic on the season so far and the two rookies on the line, Cody Glass and Nic Hague, are doing pretty well for themselves.7 (8.21)St. Louis Blues23-1-12-1-0Blues are most finding ways to win, but Saturday's ugly loss to Montreal shows that we still have some work to do. Hopefully some young guys who aren't getting it done like Fabs or Sanford can pick it up before its too late for them. Also, i see u Sammy Blais and I love you8 (8.45)Washington Capitals-23-1-21-1-19 (9.55)Toronto Maple Leafs-63-2-11-2-0I think it’s safe to say this was not the week that the leafs envisioned themselves having. The week started alright with an overtime loss to the reigning Stanley cup champions. A loss is never the goal but keeping pace with the team that just won the Stanley cup was a good measuring stick for the leafs. On Thursday the leafs hosted the Tampa Bay Lightning and in short the Lightning walked all over the leafs. This was a game where nobody on the leafs played well and the score shows that (7-3 Tampa Win). I could sit here and talk about which leaf players played poorly and which ones were worse for hours but I am not going to. My suggestion to all leaf fans is to just accept that this game happened, every team gets blown out once in a while. We don’t need to be happy about it but the fact is it happened so just put it out of your mind and move on to the next one. Saturday against the red wings was a chance at a bounce back game for the leafs and they did just that with a solid 5-2 win.10 (10.05)Anaheim Ducks34-1-02-1-0We have got your nail biting hockey here. The ducks went 1-1-0 this week against the penguins and blue jackets. The ducks don’t have anyone with more than 2 goals. Ondrej Kase leads the team in points with 1+3=4 points.11 (12.29)Tampa Bay Lightning-42-2-11-1-0YIKES. Sure, the Bolts looked great against Toronto, but good god did they play down to Ottawas level. The first line was almost non-existent, and those poorly timed penalties showed up again. It's almost like Tampa plays hard against difficult opponents, then tries to coast by teams that should be easy, but we see how well that works.12 (12.53)Nashville Predators13-2-02-1-0Alright, another week down and the playoff picture is really starting to become clear... Okay, not really, but it does seem pretty clear that the offseason moves have given us a Preds team that is different than what we're used to. Defensively the team seems to be adjusting to a lineup sans Subban, and Fabbro is handling the immediate expectations nicely. Conversely, I'm going to continue deluding myself into thinking somehow the loss of Subban explains whatever our third pairing is doing on the ice. On the other side of the puck, well, as weird as it feels to say it the Preds lead the league with a 4.6 GF/G. More importantly though is the fact that no longer does a 2 or 3 goal deficit feel insurmountable; this week alone the team clawed their way back against WSH multiple times before stealing a W, and they closed a 3 goal deficit to LAK before letting in the game winner in the final minute. There's still a long season ahead, but if nothing else this team is a hell of a lot of fun to watch right now.13 (13.08)Winnipeg Jets84-3-03-1-0What a week, wins against Pittsburgh, the Wild and Hawks. all come from behind affairs, there is reason to be optimistic about this team. No one doubted their forward depth, and with Laine looking like he wants a big pay day in 2 years, it’s been tough for teams to match the skill from the Jets top 9. Helly has also shaken off whatever was ailing him against the Rangers, allowing the inexperienced d-corp to make a few mistakes and gain some confidence. Heinola has looked shaky at times but he seems to have a very high skill ceiling. Lowry hasn’t looked great, but being between Bourque and Letestu will do that to you. Also, I’d love to take a moment to shout out Anthony Betetto, kid has looked like a serviceable NHL defenseman these past couple games, almost like Chevy knows maybe a bit more about hockey than your average r/winnipegjets poster. But this could all be for not as I’m writing this before our game against the Pens and who knows what could happen. Knock on wood.14 (13.89)Pittsburgh Penguins34-2-03-1-0This team is getting 6 and 7 goals with Malkin and Bjugstad out. Not to mention Galchenyuk and Rust as well. Their offense is gonna be flat out scary in a month or two.15 (14.55)New York Rangers-52-1-00-1-0Only one game this week, and unfortunately it was an L. On the bright side, KAAPO KAKKO IS A GOD. I believe he deserves a chance on the first line with Bread and Mika. Lias also deserves to play more than 8 minutes a night. The game overall was ok but it was apparent that there was some rust (thanks schedule makers). Now we have to wait until Thursday for another game.16 (15.18)Calgary Flames42-3-11-2-1The Flames do not look great. The team just isn't clicking and can't seem to start games on time. Through 6 games, only 4 forwards have scored (insert James Neal joke here). The good news is they started last season quite slow (5-5-0) and still finished 2nd in the league, so there is hope the team can get things rolling.17 (15.63)Philadelphia Flyers12-0-11-0-118 (16.26)Montreal Canadiens-32-1-21-1-1Two hard losses to worse teams hurt morale, but they bounced back with a big win against the Blues. If they keep up the momentum from this win, they will shoot up the rankings19 (17.66)Detroit Red Wings13-2-01-2-0Detroit was outlasted by the Ducks and shut down by the Maple Leafs this week. Detroit could have potentially won both these games despite being out-ranked and they had every opportunity. This is a transition from last years mentality of “maybe” to “should be” winning games any given night. While the young studs are playing great, there is a player missing. That player between rising stars and worn-out veterans, who sets contenders apart from the rest of the league, similar to Ryan O’ Reilly before last season. That kind of player comes into the picture after a playoff window starts and Detroit hasn’t hit one quite yet. Their dominance over Montreal, who has a similar rebuild timeline as Detroit, offers assurance that things are on the right track. Detroit will be a fun team to watch succeed this year when they can put together a complete effort. Their games can be consistently determined by their own ability and effort, instead of getting lucky against a superior opponent.20 (20.34)New York Islanders-12-3-01-2-0Last year the Islanders took almost a dozen games to stop being garbage and get into the Trotz system. You'd expect that in year two this wouldn't be necessary, but Isles fans are hoping thats what this is right now. Not playing well, this team has struggled to score and goaltending hasn't been able to bail them out. Bailey and Beau are leading the way so far for the offense, with Barzal, Lee, and Eberle leaving a lot to be desired. On defense Pelech looks to be picking up where he left off, with Dobson holding his own in his first start. Have to hope that they build on the solid effort they put up vs the Panthers, and are able to start getting into a groove going forward.21 (20.74)Florida Panthers-51-2-20-1-2The Panthers had two solid games and Bob and Hoffman stole the show during the home opener. Q's system will take some time to cement itself, but it's looking good.22 (22.45)Arizona Coyotes31-2-11-0-1The Coyotes came out of the 2nd week 1-0-1, attaining 3 of 4 available points. As was the case in the first week, the Coyotes defense and goaltending combo has arguably been one of the top in the league, allowing only 1.75 goals against per game, and limiting opposition possession and high quality shots. The Coyotes main struggle comes in finding consistent offense. It was on high-display in Vegas, where the yotes scored 4 and took the victory; however, it was ellusive against Colorado on Saturday, in which, despite having possession and shot advantage, the Yotes could only pocket 2, eventually falling in OT. If the Coyotes maintain the current levels of defensive production, all they need to do is find a way to hit 3 goals in a game, and they will win the majority. PP desperately needs help as well.23 (22.47)Vancouver Canucks62-2-02-0-0I suppose I should say something I'm thankful for this year, but as a true Canucks fan I'd rather just be an entitled little egg eater and not give thanks for anything. This team is pretty good, but what I really deserve this year is a Stanley Cup win, or maybe the first overall draft pick if we miss the playoffs. Ideally, the Canucks will win both, otherwise it's time to #firebenning. Anyway, The Canucks turned around their early season slide with a very convincing win at home vs. the Kings and a less-convincing shootout win vs. the Flyers. The top line continues to be somewhat stifled, but that's okay because there are now various interesting players to watch on this team. Miller and Hughes have both come exactly as-advertised, Markstorm is tight, and Pearson appears intent on revitalizing his career. Myers is big, and while I don't know how his play will end up on statlines, he is very fun to watch.24 (23.76)Columbus Blue Jackets62-3-02-1-0A few solid performances this week vs some hot teams. Special teams still seem to be an issue, however. The youngest team in the league will continue to grow in the coming weeks and we should get a better idea of what we've got by Thanksgiving.25 (24.13)Los Angeles Kings22-3-02-2-0Sorry for missing last week fam. After getting thrashed by the Nucks, the Kings did pretty well and bounced back against the Predators. McLellan's system is continuing to be tweaked game to game- but its clear that the Kings are trying to create somewhat of a new identity early in the season.26 (25.32)Dallas Stars-31-4-11-1-1I know you may want to panic... but. don't panic. Everything is going to be fine (probably). Remember, it has been a pretty darn tough schedule.. We played good hockey on Tuesday against the Caps and, on Thursday, showed moments of strength against the Flames despite a heartbreaking shootout loss. Later in the week, the Caps were ready for a rematch and took advantage of our under-performing special teams. It was the worst we looked all week, tons of missed opportunities. The 4-1 loss was deserved. Here's the thing, though. The top 6 WILL start producing. The schedule WILL get easier. And our goalies are only gonna look better as the season progresses. If things are still looking dire by this time next week... well maybe start panicking a little.27 (26.61)San Jose Sharks-12-4-02-1-0Still not a good week for the Sharks, but a definite improvement. Having Marleau back should add some scoring depth, and hopefully Simek will be back soon to tighten up the defence and help Jones/Dell.28 (26.61)Chicago Blackhawks-60-2-10-1-1The Blackhawks have lost 3 straight, all by 1 goal. They have started strong, but failed to play a full 60+ minutes. They have an abysmal 42.91 CF% and 60 PK%. But the defense was helped by the returns of Connor Murphy and Calvin de Haan. Kirby Dach made his pro debut in Rockford on Saturday, on a conditioning stint.29 (28.26)Ottawa Senators21-3-01-1-0The Eugene Melnyk Experience Senators managed a win this week over renowned choke artists the Tampa Bay Lightning, thanks to a surprisingly solid game defensively and Namestikov showing that he was certainly worth the steep price of a 4th round pick. This was a great morale boost for our young core, but hopefully that 1 win doesn't come back to bite us later in the Lafreniere and Byfield sweepstakes at the 2020 draft. Hopefully, in true Ottawa fashion, we have a poor showing against the Mild on Monday and get this tank right back on track pronto.30 (28.68)New Jersey Devils-60-3-20-2-1Please hockey gods, tell us what do we need to do? The subreddit is seemingly calling for Hynes head just 5 games into the season, however it's hard to discern whether this is a result of the echochamber of the GDT or legitimate consensus. Here is a straw poll that was sparsely answered, but still holds value in the people that answered it are more likely to be users active outside of the GDT. Pros: not many but Cory has been a bright spot. #goals4cory2019. We also have played good teams, currently the Devils opponents combined record is 19-3-2. Like Damn. Cons: The team is gelling like oil and water. Our PP is 0 for 15, and PK is 8 for 16. We aren't even giving up an unusually high number of shots. 30.8 is T9 in the league. It feels like the wheels were put on too hastily and they fell off a few feet out of the gates and we are still trying to repair the damage. Oh, and the cherry on top is that Greene is on IR so we are down our captain.31 (30.39)Minnesota Wild-30-4-00-2-0Big brain take: With just one disastrous season at the helm, Paul Fenton was brought on to enable the tank, absorb the unified hatred of a fan base, and allow Bill Guerin to ascend and rebuild the franchise from the dumpster fire which it currently resembles. It's unfortunately going to cause Bruce Boudreau to lose his job as a result and while it's not his fault that the outgoing GM made moves that caused even Peter Chiarelli to scratch his head, this season could spiral out of control very quickly. The prospect of a complete overhaul and not "tweaking the roster" as our meddlesome owner loves to repeat is the only thing keeping me from doing my best Peter Parker with a Metro train. r/hockey NHL Power Rankings Week 2: Nature's Wrath Edition Source