#if they fire me for this (saying she was cruel. stupid. incompetent. never working) fine by me. if they are not going to fire me... well

[tornoaserjo]

Made my sister come to my pilates christmas party as her girlfriend's plus one, to make sure my classmates stopped thinking i was dating said girlfriend. And well... it was such a success that they started making fun of me for being the less succesful sister and having no girlfriend

[offtopicoverload]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Poppy messed up. Poppy messed up even if she doesn’t know it yet. But Bea knows it. Bea knows that Poppy messed up really, really bad this time. And Bea’s going to make her pay for ever even thinking about messing with Zoey.

Or, what should have happened at the bacchanalia if MC wasn't so stupid and  Zoey was respected and yes im still salty

also didn’t edit as much as normal so there’s definitely issues in this one but whatever

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~5.5k words

Bea rifles through the false bottom of Poppy’s dresser, searching for her credit cards that can be used against her, finding all sorts of blackmail and dirt to levy against the obnoxious rich girl. Bea eventually spots them buried beneath papers and folders, a phone, hard drives, all kinds of things that no doubt hold enough dirt to destroy Poppy for good.

But Bea’s only here for the cards, she doesn’t have the time to sort through everything right now. She grabs them, her hand knocking against a manila folder as she does. ‘Human Sacrifice’ is written in red sharpie, a paper falling out of the side, with a name at the top.

Bea’s eyes go wide as she reads every letter over and over and over again, every drop of black ink. She rips her phone from her pocket, fumbling to swipe and tap to her contacts and presses call on ‘Zo 😘.’ It rings for a minute, each tone sending panic spiking through Bea.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s it going?” finally rings from the speaker pressed to Bea’s ear.

“Get the fuck out of there,” Bea doesn’t bother with greetings, skipping straight to the point, “Get the fuck out of there right fucking now, Zo, fucking run.”

“Why? What the hell’s going on, Bea?” Zoey sounds on edge, no doubt concerned by Bea’s words and tone. Good.

Bea pulls her phone from her ear, putting it on speaker and opening her camera, “I don’t know, but it’ll be bad, so please leave, Zo, I’m on my way,” she hurriedly snaps pictures of Poppy’s stupid cards to use against her later.

“Okay, I’m seriously freaking out right now, can you please tell me what’s happening before I book it?”

Bea jams the cards and folder back in the false bottom, shoving it closed and struggling to her feet, “You’re Poppy’s ‘Human Sacrifice’ and you seriously need to leave, I’m not fucking around. I have no idea what she has planned but it’ll be bad, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I swear. But are you coming with?”

Bea rushes out of the room, darting for the stairs, “I’m coming now, I’m almost at the stairs and I’ll -”

“Fuck.”

“Zoey?!” Bea shouts into the speaker, not receiving an answer as she sprints down the hallway, tripping to the ground as she rounds a corner, desperate to get there in time.

“Put your hands together for this year’s sacrifice, Zoey Wade!” Poppy’s voice rings through the foyer as Bea slams into the railing, just to find Poppy standing on a makeshift stage to address the crowd and a spotlight on Zoey by the door.

“Bitch!” she swears under her breath, stumbling for the stairs as Poppy continues.

“A little backstory on New Money here. Once upon a time, Zoey grew up in a three bedroom home in… Brooklyn.” Bea can feel the steam coming from her ears as she barrels down the staircase, gripping the railing to keep from falling in her stupidly high heels that she should have never bothered with.

“Three? Where did you keep your clothes? And where was your dog’s room?” Trixie joins, only further enraging Bea with her incompetence.

Zoey's voice rings through the foyer, drawing Bea’s eyes as she stands her ground, “We kept our clothes in the closets and our dog didn’t have his own room. You know, how normal people live.”

“Not these people. I’m sure none of these people’s fathers worked as a banker either,” Poppy taunts, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Like handling other people’s money?” Luis sounds as if it’s the most insane thing in the world.

The crowd erupts in laughs and jeers just as Bea reaches the end of the obnoxiously long staircase, already shoving through the crowd, elbowing everyone in sight.

“No! He… He was a senior manager! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Bea can just barely see Zoey across the room as she dives into the crowd, spotting a line of frat guys blocking Zoey from the door.

“I’m sure it must have been rough for him, working so hard to support you,” Poppy looks at her in fake sympathy. “Though I guess those paychecks weren’t enough to cover everything. Like say… a tube of peach flavored lipgloss? Sparkly pink nail polish? Maybe a pair of cubic zirconia stud earrings?” Poppy asks, feigning innocence or kindness, Bea can’t tell and she doesn’t care anyway.

“Poppy… Don’t,” Bea can barely hear Zoey’s quiet response anymore, can barely see her through the gaps in the crowd, and she hates what she sees. Zoey’s eyes are shining with tears, every muscle in her body tense as she trembles, glued to the spot.

Poppy turns back to the crowd, not even bothering to address her victim anymore, “That’s right, everyone. There’s a thief in our midst. A shoplifter.”

Bea pushes forward even more, jabbing everyone within arm’s reach until Michael grabs her, arms around her waist as he yanks her backwards to prevent her from reaching Zoey. She struggles, squirming and kicking in his grasp, shrieking as his arms tighten around her.

“Bea?!” Zoey’s voice sounds terrifyingly hopeful as she scans the crowd for Bea trapped in Michael’s hold.

“Zo!” she shouts back, pushing her head above the crowd to meet her eyes, just as a projector launches photos behind Poppy on her stage, drawing the entire crowd’s attention.

It’s a younger Zoey in an office, with red eyes and tears still streaming down her cheeks, a mugshot of sorts. Bea squirms even more, elbowing Michael in the ribs, but he still won’t fucking let go.

“Someone lock up the imported silverware!” Chloe’s shriek echoes in the foyer, providing a soundtrack to Bea’s struggles.

She jams her heel into Michael’s thigh, earning a yelp from her captor and pushing up enough to see the heartbroken expression on Zoey’s face, “How did you… Those… Those records were sealed! I never even had to pay a fine!”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Poppy nods with that same ridiculous sympathy again, “You may not have had to pay the price, and how could you have? Considering you clearly didn’t have any money. But this burden will live on with you forever,” her tone quickly turns malicious as she zeroes in on Zoey, “I will never let you forget that this is who you are. That you, Zoey, are a sad, little social climber who had to wait for someone with balls to cling onto to even make it onto our radar. Well, you’ve finally done it. You’re on my radar. Are you happy now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Poppy!” Bea screeches, jamming her heel even further into Michael’s thigh to rise above the crowd and glare at Poppy, flames in her eyes as she attempts to light Poppy on fire.

“Oh, Farmsville. Stupid, naive, little Farmsville,” she gives a saccahrine smile, hauntingly sweet. “Let the sacrifice begin,” she announces into the mic, eyes still trained on a furious Bea.

Zoey screams as tomatoes and wine fly at her, soaking her skin, her hair, her outfit, all of it seemingly coming out of nowhere as the crowd pelts Zoey mercilessly. She ducks her head, covering herself with her arms and backing away, only for the frat boys to shove her back in the spotlight.

“Betcha didn’t see that one coming,” Poppy mouths to Bea, right as Michael finally lets her go, rubbing his thigh and grabbing a tomato from Luis, hurling it at Zoey with a laugh.

And Bea can’t take it anymore, can’t take how powerless he just made her feel, can’t take how disgusting they all are, how cruel and heartless. She can’t take this shit anymore, she can’t deal with it, she can’t stomach it, not when her best friend is being assaulted across the room without her help.

She slugs him in the jaw, sending him reeling and staring at her in shock, but she’s already moving back through the crowd as the tomatoes fly, nearly tripping over people as she hurries as quick as she can. Zoey’s so close to the front door, she almost made it, she was almost safe. If Bea was only a few seconds quicker she could have changed this, she could have fixed this.

Bea shoves through the crowd to reach Zoey, receiving a few elbows to her sides and irritated comments, but she doesn’t stop pushing. She finally sees Zoey through the crowd again, the frat boys guarding the door throwing tomatoes at her without remorse as she cowers, arms raised to protect her head.

She grabs Zoey as soon as she reaches her, arm coiling around her waist and pulling her into her side protectively. Her hands are raised to hide her face as she leans into Bea, a slight whimper escaping her throat as Bea holds her. She pulls Zoey along to the door, shoving through those ridiculous frat boys and stomping on a few feet to do it, tomatoes still pelting them as she yanks the door open. She drags Zoey along, the other girl stiff at her side, arms still raised as they put the sorority house behind them, Bea running until it’s too far in the distance to be a threat.

She slides to a stop on shadowed grass, their heels ruined as she turns to Zoey, still tucked into her side. Her face is blank save for a few tears in her eyes and a quivering bottom lip, her eyes glassy as she stares into space. Bea can feel her body trembling under her arm and concern spikes within her, “Zoey, babe, what can I do to help? What do you need? To go home? I think we went in the wrong direction to our dorm, but we can still go. Do you want to get something off Postmates? Do you want to go and attack Poppy? I got the pictures,” Bea rambles, trying to catch Zoey’s glazed over eyes.

But Zoey doesn’t utter a single word, simply wraps her arms around Bea’s neck and buries her face in her shoulder, a sniffle muffled against her skin. Bea holds her tight, fingers scratching at the small of her back and swaying softly from side to side. She starts humming through random song choruses and verses stuck in her head until she lands on Uptown Funk. It popped up in their playlist earlier, as they did their hair and makeup, and the bathroom exploded in an impromptu performance.

“This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces.” She pulls back, Zoey following and glancing up at her from beneath her lashes, the smallest smile on her lips as she watches.

Bea pounces on it, smiling and dancing goofily, jumping around in her heels, “Stylin’, wilin’, livin’ it up in the city.” Zoey laughs softly, Bea’s hands falling to hers and swinging her arms as she moves from side to side, “Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty. Too hot! Hot damn,” she echoes, “Called a police and a fireman, I’m too hot! Hot damn,” she fans Zoey, who rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Make a dragon wanna retire man, I’m too hot! Hot damn! Say my name, you know who I am, I’m too hot! Hot damn! And my band ‘bout that money, break it down,” she crouches low, pulling Zoey with her, “Girls hit your hallelujah,” she chants low, looking to Zoey expectantly.

Zoey meets her gaze with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Bea tilting her head as she waits and waits and waits and - “Whoo,” Zoey cheers, Bea’s smile exploding as she launches forward, tackling Zoey in a hug and sending them tumbling to the ground. “Bea!” Zoey exclaims, even though it’s followed by laughter.

“What?” she asks cluelessly, pulling back from the embrace enough to meet Zoey’s dark eyes as she feigns innocence.

Zoey rolls her eyes, “God, you’re such a dork.” But she’s smiling fondly, even with tomato chunks stuck in her hair and dripping from her body. Bea beams wide at her success in cheering her up, her eyes nearly shutting as she just stares at Zoey, who shoves her shoulder, “Dork.”

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” she singsongs the last word, still grinning down at Zoey beneath her.

Only that smile falls away as soon as it’s mentioned, her head falling back to stare at the sky blankly. Bea wiggles closer, flopping onto her back beside Zoey and staring up at the few stars they can see, her hand slipping in Zoey’s and interlocking their fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Zoey sighs, staring up at the night above them, her thumb brushing along Bea’s knuckles. “I only did it because the group of girls I hung out with in middle school did. They never once got caught, so I thought it’d be okay.”

Bea turns her head to watch Zoey’s shadowed features, “And of course the one time they convinced me to try it with them, I got picked out and searched. Me, the only black girl in the group,” she scowls to the sky. “They all abandoned me there, not even looking back as I got taken with security,” she pauses to glare upwards, and Bea squeezes her hand in the silence. “But after I got off with just a warning, they wanted to keep pretending we were the bestest of friends.”

“I hope you told them you didn’t have time for snakes,” Bea grins, hoping the joke’s enough to lighten the mood, to help Zoey feel better.

“I’ve been dealing with mean girls, girls like Poppy, my entire life,” Zoey looks angry, rightfully so, “I don’t know why I thought for a second Belvoire would be different.”

Bea turns back to the few glimpses of stars they can see in the city, “I know it’s not much, but I’m always here. I’ve got you no matter what, babe.”

“I know,” Zoey whispers to the sky, silence settling between them easily, a familiar presence from study dates and weekends spent collapsed on the couch. From early mornings to late nights when they’re too tired to speak more than a few words, to do anything but smile or squeeze the other’s hand or shoulder. From haunting hours in the middle of the night after awful days to sunrises that promised a second chance, a redemption of sorts.

Bea sits up straight, squeezing Zoey’s hand as she looks down to her, “You wanna go home now? Wash up and get some sleep?”

Zoey nods stiffly, sitting up beside Bea and dropping her head to her shoulder, “Can we order pizza? And breadsticks?”

“We can order the entire pizza place if you want, babe,” she raises their interwoven hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Zoey’s.

---

Bea stalks into the courtyard the next day, determination boiling inside her as her gaze locks on Poppy sitting with Chloe and Veronica, tapping away at her phone and drinking a smoothie. She makes a beeline for the witch, fists clenching and jaw tight as she approaches.

She woke up early for this, made calls for this, went to the store for this. She went out of her way for this, and she’s going to relish it, relish the start of her vengeance. She’s not just going to forget what happened last night, she’s not going to move on or accept the revenge from posting trash about Poppy on The T after Zoey had fallen asleep.

She needs more, and she needs to make her suffer, to feel gross and less than, to feel loathed and despised. And Bea knows she can do it, that this is just the start.

She slams her palms on the table, startling Chloe, provoking Veronica to whip out her phone and start recording, and not even earning Poppy’s signature glare, “What do you want, Farmsville? I thought you’d have slunk off to your corn field by now.”

Bea doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Poppy’s smoothie, pulls off the lid and dumps it on her head with a neutral, unbothered expression. The only indication of her rage is the fire still in her eyes from the night before. Poppy cringes under the waterfall, her mouth falling open and arms raising to protect herself, “You are dead, Farmsville!” she screams as the liquid stops falling.

She stands, hovering above Bea in her ridiculously high heels and ruined pompous sweater and skirt. But Bea doesn’t back down, she meets her gaze, she squares her shoulder. She’s from the country, she could take this city bitch no problem.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy spits through gritted teeth, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she glowers at Bea below her. “I will ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bea spits right back.

Poppy smirks, self-satisfied and disgusting, “I already destroyed your little pet. How come she’s not following you around? Still too mortified to leave your nasty little dorm? Or did she finally realise she’s not cut out for this life? That she belongs in Brooklyn?”

Bea explodes, shoving Poppy backwards and nearly pushing her to the ground, her heels stumbling beneath her and ankles almost collapsing, “Zoey’s off limits!” she shouts, face flushed in her fury. “This was between you and me, not a single other person!”

“Then how come you constantly messed with the Zetas? And Carter?” Poppy counters, regaining her balance and matching Bea’s anger.

“That was different and you know! I didn’t humiliate or harass them, I didn’t fuck with them, I offered them an alternative to her Royal Bitchiness!” Bea gestures at a smoothie-soaked Poppy.

“I don’t see a difference. Besides,” Poppy shrugs, feigning indifference, “Why do you care?” she flicks her hair over her shoulder, “I thought she was just a tool. She’s not even top 15, she doesn’t matter.”

Bea steps right into Poppy’s face, fury flowing off her in waves, “I will ruin you. I will wreck your stupid little reputation, I will crush your pointless popularity, I will make sure that you are nothing but an average, basic, heartless bitch. I’m going to take your crown and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who isn’t mean and cruel and evil. I’m going to make you nothing, Poppy.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking my spot?” Poppy taunts, “You? Midwest trash will never touch first place,” she scoffs.

“No, not me. I’ve sunk to your level and I don’t even care. I’ll make sure someone better than the both of us takes that stupid spot.” She takes a step back, putting some much needed distance between them to prevent herself from punching another person within twenty-four hours. “But until then, I’d watch your back, Pops,” she turns on her heel, striding away. “Go ahead, boys!” she calls without looking back.

A shriek sounds from behind her as Carter and a few of the football and frat guys that most certainly do not include Michael, dump a tub of crushed and mashed tomatoes on top of Poppy, juice soaking her clothes and chunks mixing in with her strawberry blonde locks. “Farmsville!” she shrieks, Bea smirking as she walks to her dorm, not once sparing a glance over her shoulder.

---

Bea sits on her bed, grading papers for Kingsley as Cutiepie lays flopped on his back beside her, his little legs sprawled in the air and his tongue lolling from his mouth, Bea occasionally breaking to scratch his exposed underside. She tosses a paper to the side, pulling up another as her door flies open, slamming into the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zoey asks, striding into the room and waving her phone crazedly.

Bea glances up, pen pausing above the paper, “I’m… sorry?” her brows knit together.

Zoey huffs, “You dumped a smoothie and tomatoes on Poppy?! In the middle of the courtyard?!”

Bea caps her pen and drops it to the bedspread, smiling as she leans back and props herself up on her hands, “Yep!”

Her amusement isn’t shared, Zoey glaring at her angrily, “Why the hell did you do that?! Are you trying to start a war?!”

“I’m trying to finish one,” her smile’s fallen away as she meets Zoey’s dark, furious eyes.

“Why?! She’s just going to retaliate!”

“Good.”

Zoey gestures wildly, as if she’s the only sane person left in the world, “Why is that good?! What is going on with you?!”

Bea leans forward, her elbows landing on her knees as she meets Zoey’s eyes, her expression stone and tone serious, “She fucked with you. She crossed a line and she’s going to pay. Every time she escalates things, I can, too.”

Zoey’s features soften and her eyes fall shut, a sigh slipping past her lips. She walks to the bed, flopping face first onto the comforter, frozen as Bea sets her papers aside and scoots closer. She pokes Zoey’s shoulder, moving up to poke the side of her face when she doesn’t move, “Zo?” she asks softly.

“You’re really stupid, you know?” she finally says.

“Probably,” Bea concedes, “But why exactly this time?”

Zoey exhales sharply, rolling over to her back and meeting Bea’s eyes, “She’s ruthless. She doesn’t care about you and she’ll do whatever she can. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

“Then I’m going to take advantage of it,” Bea answers coolly, confidently.

Zoey’s eyes fall shut again and she takes a deep breath before wiggling further onto the bed beside Bea, her arm open for her. And she obliges, falling to her side and dropping her head onto Zoey’s shoulder as an arm tightens around her shoulders, “I know there’s no stopping you, but you’re not allowed to get kicked from school. I’m not putting up with a shitty roommate because you got expelled or quit or something.”

“Okay,” Bea nods.

Zoey continues, “Do you promise you won’t do anything that might impact your stay at Belvoire?”

“Is this a contract? Do I need to get a lawyer?” Bea jokes, smiling against Zoey’s shoulder.

“Bea.” Her voice is stern, “Do you promise or not?”

She raises her head to meet Zoey’s gaze, the jokes falling away she pushes as much earnesty into her eyes as possible, “I promise, Zo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoey releases a sigh of relief, “Good,” just as Cutiepie crawls onto her side, flopping on her stomach and the tiniest amused smile quirking her lips. Bea reaches down to scratch his head, picking him up under his arms and pulling him into her grasp. She settles back against Zoey, setting Cutiepie on her chest and scratching behind his ears. He turns, licking at Zoey’s chin as she laughs softly, “Little weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Bea grins.

Zoey pauses for a beat, glancing at Bea below her, eyes on Cutiepie, “Yeah, I do.”

---

Papers and plans surround Bea and Zoey on the floor of Bea’s bedroom, the former plotting her next move against Poppy as the latter scrolls her phone, her head on Bea’s shoulder as she works. Bea sorts through her papers, scribbling notes as she scans the pages.

Zoey glances up at her, finding her brow furrowed as she taps her pen on a page, focusing intently. Zoey sighs, sitting up and cupping Bea’s cheek to draw her gaze. She doesn’t give it, fighting to keep her eyes on the mess before her, “Zo, I’m working.”

Zoey’s palm pushes Bea’s face even farther from her paper, and she gives in with a sigh, irritatedly meeting Zoey’s gaze. There’s a crease between her brows and a frown on her lips that makes Zoey smile. Bea rolls her eyes at the quirk in her lips, “What, Zoey?”

She raises her other hand, cupping both sides of Bea’s face and uses her thumbs to lift the corners of her lips, “Turn that frown upside down,” she murmurs softly with a grin.

Bea’s jaw falls open as she stares at Zoey, whose gaze is trained on her lips, fingers still brushing the corners. She swallows thickly, “I, uh, that’s why you interrupted me?” she chokes out through a throat that seems impossibly dry.

Dark eyes finally meet her own, “Yep,” she beams. “But now that I have your attention,” she drawls. Her hands spring from Bea’s face, grabbing her hands as she jumps up, “Movie night!” She drags Bea along before she’s even on her feet, pulling her out of the bedroom and into the common area. She sets her on the couch, pushing down on her shoulders to get her to sit.

“Zo, I need to finish -”

“Nope!” Zoey cuts her off, looking at her sternly, “Movie. Night.” She turns, grabbing the remote and pulling her phone from her pocket. She passes the remote to Bea, giving her a sharp look when she attempts to decline, and pulls up Postmates on her phone.

They spend the night on the couch, ignoring the problem of Poppy, ignoring the plans Bea’s been working on, ignoring their homework and all the assignments Kingsley needs graded. They ignore everything outside of the dorm for the night, gorging on Chinese takeout and watching bad movies that make them laugh until they cry.

---

Bea and Zoey sit at a picnic table on the courtyard, eating burritos and scrolling their phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos and posts. It’s a calm day in the courtyard for once, no events or billboards of hog calling.

Well, it was a calm day, but Poppy’s intent on ruining that. She storms across the courtyard with Chloe hot on her heels, eyes trained on the back of Bea’s head as she sips an iced coffee, laughing at a dog video Zoey just sent her. “Farmsville!” she screams across the space.

Bea glances over her shoulder, shrugging as she spots the fury on Poppy’s face, and turns back to her lunch, still tapping away at her phone. Poppy muffles a scream, striding directly to Bea, “Farmsville!” This time she doesn’t even get a glance.

She stops at the table, grabs Bea’s burrito, and throws it as far as she can, leering down at her. Bea stands meeting her gaze, “What, Poppy?”

“You leaked my credit cards?!” she hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

Bea grins, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. I know it was you.”

“Do you now?” Bea asks calmly, reaching for her coffee and taking a long sip, meeting Poppy’s gaze coolly as she does.

“This part of your little vengeance plan for New Money?” she leers at Zoey, still sitting at the table and eating quietly. “Why do you even care about her, Farmsville? I get that she’s a little useful, but she’s still replaceable, just like anyone else,” she scoffs.

Bea slams her drink on the table, startling Poppy briefly as rage immediately takes over features, “Is that what you think Poppy?! That no one but you matters?! You think you’re so important and above everyone else even though you don’t do shit!”

Zoey’s abandoned her lunch now, crossing over to the opposite side and hovering warily behind Bea, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to let Bea handle it. It’s part of her plan, after all.

Poppy scans the pair of women before her as if she’s unimpressed, “No need to get so worked up, Farmsville. This never would have happened if you hadn’t picked her. Just find someone that’s not a criminal,” she shrugs.

Bea flies forward in the blink of an eye, tackling Poppy to the ground and towering over her, Zoey shouting behind them in shock, “Bea!”

Before she can do anything, Bea punches Poppy right in the jaw, sending her head flying. She punches once, twice, and is rearing up for a third hit when Zoey’s arms slip around her torso and jerk her backwards, pulling her back as she squirms and fights in her grasp, “Let me go, Zo! Let me fucking go!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

“I don’t care!”

Zoey’s lips drop to her ear, “You promised me.”

Bea immediately goes limp in her arms, all the fight knocked out of her in a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” Zoey whispers again, Bea’s feet slipping beneath her body to hold her up.

“You fucking animal!” Poppy shrieks, still sitting on the ground as Chloe pokes at her jaw, only pissing her off even more.

“At least I can admit it!” The fight’s back as she stands properly, slipping out of Zoey’s grasp, even as the other woman attempts to keep her back. “At least I can admit that this is all ridiculous! At least I can admit that it’s pointless and stupid! Can you admit it, Poppy? Can you admit that your precious crown has no worth? That you have no worth?” She stands over the strawberry blonde, staring down at her intently.

“Fuck off, Farmsville,” she scoffs, stumbling to her feet by gripping Chloe’s shoulder and shoving the blonde to the ground. “Run back to your cave with your little felon friend. At some point you’ll realize just how little she matters,” Poppy spits.

Bea meets her gaze easily, jaw clenched tight, “She matters more than you. She matters more than me. She matters more than anybody, and at some point you’ll realize that, when she’s more successful than you, more popular, more wealthy, more respected. You’re a vile creature, and somebody you’ll lose your power and sit sulking as everyone stops caring about you. Because you. Don’t. Matter.”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Zoey slips an arm around her, carefully leading her away, their lunches abandoned. And this time Bea doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to squirm away to fight with Poppy more.

She lets Zoey lead her back to their dorm, sit her at the kitchen counter, and make her a cup of tea. She lets Zoey turn on 90s music as she dances around the kitchen, trying to lighten the mood and resolve some of Bea’s anger. She lets her wrap her in a hug when the music and dancing doesn’t work, let’s her tell her to let it go and move on, to forget about Poppy and all her bullshit.

“I can’t just forget it, Zoey, I can’t let her get away with everything she’s done,” she meets dark eyes, her own shining as she silently pleads for Zoey to understand, to give her permission to carry on this path that will only lead to destruction.

Zoey sighs, her head dipping as she thinks. She looks back up after a minute, meeting Bea’s gaze, “If we’re doing this, we’re being smart about it.”

“I’m doing it, Zo. You’re staying out of this,” her brows knit together, her face serious as her eyes pour into Zoey’s.

“Nuh-uh,” Zoey shakes her head. “You just attacked Poppy. You need me to keep you in check, babe, hate to break it to you,” she smiles teasingly.

“She already -”

Zoey cuts her off, “I don’t care. You promised me you’d stay safe, and clearly you can’t do that on your own, so suck it up and get over it, Bea.” Her words are sharper than she meant them to be, harsher as she stares down the woman across from her.

Bea sighs, her head falling to the counter beneath her arms. “Fine,” comes out muffled against the countertop. “But if she ever throws another tomato at you, I’m killing her on the spot.”

Zoey laughs, “Alright, deal. Luckily, I don’t think tomatoes are her choice weapon,” she grins down at Bea’s hunched form, relief spilling over her at Bea’s acceptance of her plan.

A hand slips in her own, Bea squeezing tight as she weaves their fingers together, “They better not.” Zoey squeezes back, lifting their locked hands to kiss the back of Bea’s, her thumb tracing her knuckles gently.

They miss the rest of their classes that afternoon, Bea plotting intently as Zoey reels her in on the crazier ideas. They order more burritos and watch the chaos of Bea posting Poppy’s cards on The T, all the purchases people made, all the people complaining that the cards were declined, and all of Poppy’s messages urging people to stop and telling them off when they don’t.

It’s amusing, Zoey has to admit, watching Poppy suffer and face backlash, to be the one under the criticism of the Belvoire public, be the one struggling and hurting. It’s nice, to get revenge and not even have to feel an ounce of guilt.

And it’s nice that Bea’s the one that got it for her, the one that decked Poppy in front of dozens of students because she talked trash on Zoey, the one that took tomatoes to the head to help Zoey.

Maybe it’s just Bea that’s nice, Zoey decides as she watches Bea break from her work to grin at Zoey, butterflies whirring in her stomach as she meets that smile, a tornado of fluttering wings whirling in her gut, a sickening but thrilling sensation filling every ounce of her body, an overwhelming but welcome presence. Yeah. That’s it; it’s just Bea that’s nice.

[acesgroupchat]

This is the tale of a man battered by storms. This is the tale of a man, a general, clever and swift and stolen. A man at war, a man betrayed, a man transformed. This is the tale of his going home.

Nie Feng is a man of absolute loyalty, but loyalty divided. He is a faithful friend, a devoted husband, and a dutiful soldier. In times of peace he is to be found by his wife’s side. When war calls, he goes where his country needs him. It is thus that he finds himself at Meiling, fighting in an inferno as a winter storm tears at the edges of their camp. He is a good general. His commanders are better. His army survives, against impossible odds and with bitter casualties.

And then they are betrayed.

Nie Feng does not recognize the army raining arrows down on them from the clifftops. Da Yu’s soldiers have been beaten back, and he is certain that no other nation could have brought an army across their borders in secret. The alternative, that these are soldier of their own nation, does not even occur to him.

Nie Feng is not called the lightning general without reason. He is surrounded, surprised, and badly outnumbered on unfavourable terrain, but war does not suffer the unprepared to survive, and Nie Feng has been at war for a very long time.  His soldiers are battle hardened and trust him completely. This new army does not know these mountains as he does. He rallies his men and they flee through the mountains and their losses are heavy but their retreat is successful. They are wounded and exhausted but alive.

They turn their horses back to the main army camp, but they are too late. The tents are burned, the army lies in pieces, and over the devastation fly the banners of their own countrymen. They have not yet been seen. They have exactly one chance. Nie Feng makes an impossible decision. He turns his army. They vanish into the mountains unseen.

It is the dead of winter, they are badly wounded, and they have lost nearly all of their supplies. Their own nation has slaughtered them, and Nie Feng swears he saw his wife’s shifu among the slaughterers. He is not a man of politics, but neither is he incompetent. He measures the testimony of his eyes against the testimony of his memories, and finds in them a subtle, horrifying accord.

They cannot turn to their own people for help, but winter is as merciless as steel. Hunting brings scarce game, and even thievery, dishonourable, unconscionable thievery, is pointless. These lands are impoverished, and sparsely populated. They are fewer now than they were, but still more than these lands could support. They could consign every peasant for a hundred miles to starvation, and starve themselves anyway on the meagre fruits of their bitter harvest.

A man at war is a near thing to an animal. A man starved is closer still. They are desperate men, hunted men. A trap is laid for them and they are caught.

It begins as a scent. They wake one morning to find the air suffused with the smell of pork cooking, though they have not had pork in more than a week. One or two of the men are brought near to tears with longing. As the sun crests the hill, the scent takes on a definite directional quality, and with no better options Nie Feng gives the order to follow it.

It is a better part of the day following the scent, which grows stronger by the minute, and never once wavers. By the time the sun has burned through the morning mist, the men are near running after what is now the rich scent of a feast, promising meat and wine and handmade dishes of all sorts. They are not stupid men, they should know better, but they have been hungry for some time and they are exhausted.

It is noon when the woods give way to a clearing and a garden grown rich and wild, oceans of vegetables that break like waves on the tree-line. In the middle stands a feast laid out, fragrant rice and more dishes than the eye can easily count, gleaming in the midday sun. This is richer fare than even a favoured army eats on campaign, better than some of the men have ever tasted.

Or perhaps not.

As his men break the tree-line and fall upon the food, Nie Feng catches a note within the intoxicating blend that brings him to a stumbling halt.

Nie Feng’s wife is a woman like no other. He misses her fiercely every minute of every campaign, misses the home that they have built together, the home that is theirs, that is like no other home in Jinling. These past days, he has wondered more than once if he will ever see that home again. Starving and homesick, he has found himself desperate for his wife’s cooking, which, like everything else about his wife, is unique in all the civilized world. It is this scent that he recognizes, woven into the bright melange of the feast, and it is this scent that catches his feet at the clearing’s edge. Nie Feng loves his wife. He does not believe she would ever betray him, but he watched her shifu slit General Lin’s throat barely a week ago. Nie Feng is no longer certain, and in his uncertainty he hesitates.

This hesitation saves his life. As his eyes scan the clearing, searching everywhere for signs of the Xuanjing bureau, a woman steps into the garden. She is not Xia Dong, and Nie Feng has one moment of mixed relief before she raises her hand. Her face twists into a satisfied smile. “A fine harvest indeed,” she murmurs. She makes a gesture, and Nie Feng watches in horror as his men begin to change.

Skin stretches, flushing pink over swelling flesh that quickly tears through clothing, leaving his men naked and rapidly balding even as they grow. Their cries of alarm quickly become squeals. The first are pigs before the last can even begin to respond. It is then that the woman’s eyes meet Nie Feng’s.

“Will you kill me, little soldier?” Her eyes dart to his belt, where he is startled to realize his sword is already drawn. He grips it tightly. The woman is well beyond his reach, and this circumstance well beyond his understanding, but his men are in danger. Whatever this threat, he will meet it upright, and oppose it with all his strength. His men deserve no less.

The woman’s eyes go flinty. “So protective,” she murmurs, voice dry. “You will make an excellent guard dog.” She flicks her fingers, and Nie Feng feels himself begin to change. His sword clatters to the ground, dropping from twisted fingers that will no longer hold it. His legs bend under him and he collapses forward. He opens his mouth to scream and it is not a human sound. It is over in a moment and he lies panting on the ground as the woman turns away with a satisfied smirk. “Guard,” she says, and he feels the force of her will push down on him, even as she draws a knife and begins to slit his men’s throats.

He lunges for her, teeth bared, ready to tear out her throat, to crush her wrist in his jaws. He lunges. He does not move. She continues, unconcerned. He can draw no closer, can do nothing to save his men. Can only turn his eyes to the horizon to scan for danger. He can feel his own intention beginning to slip away, even as his men bleed out onto the ground as pigs.

It is an unthinkable circumstance. Nie Feng makes an unforgivable choice. With the screams of his men echoing in his ears, he turns and runs.

He hides in the mountains for weeks, moving west along the border. It is easier, as a wolf. Hunger is more bearable, his body better suited to the cold and to winter’s privation. The peasants are no more his friends now than before, but if he keeps his distance so will they, and there is no chance of soldiers finding him now.

It is spring when Nie Feng turns his eyes southward, and begins to consider his situation. His options are extremely limited. It would be safest to stay here in these mountains, but the thought of consigning himself to an animal’s life permanently is more than he can bear.  As a man, he might have more options, but he does not dare return to the clearing where he was changed. The weight of the woman’s command still lies heavy on his mind, and he is not certain he would remain himself, if he were to go near her again.

Jinling has little enough to offer him in this form. He cannot return to his wife and his home, not when he remains unsure of his position and certainly not as a wolf. Nie Feng knows what happens to wild animals that find themselves on the capitol streets, has been involved in those hunts himself in the past. He could not enter the city, could only skulk in the mountains and catch glimpses of travellers. It is not even a shadow of his life before; proximity offers only cruel reminders. Nevertheless, as spring brings new growth to the world, Nie Feng goes south.

At a wolf’s quick lope, it is weeks to the capitol city. For a cautious, prudent creature, one who avoids cities and roads, a month or two at most. If one had poor luck, it might take an entire season.

For Nie Feng, it takes ten years.

This, however, is a story for another time.

He arrives in high summer, and the mountains welcome him home. By autumn, he knows their trails and byways, where game is hidden, where small villages tuck into the hillsides. Just after the first snow he finds a grave bearing his name, and at the turn of the new year he watches, distant, as Xia Dong burns offerings and sends prayers to him. Whatever else may have happened, it is clear that his wife honors his memory. This is bare comfort when he must watch her cry, with no way of soothing her grief.

It is almost spring when he is first forced to take a chicken from a farmer’s henhouse. He does so as rarely as he can, but by summer soldiers have been dispatched into the mountains to hunt for him. Their traps would pose a severe danger for an ordinary wolf, but Nie Feng is a soldier himself. He is not trapped. As the late autumn fills the forests with game, he retreats from the villages, avoids troops, and waits for the new year, when he will see his wife again.

The first buds of spring are just showing on the mountain, when Nie Feng watches the emperor’s procession leave the city on their way to the hunting palace. Six days later, he watches a column of soldiers follow them, armed for war and riding hard. Nie Feng is twelve years removed from the capitol, was never a man of politics, but he knows trouble when he sees it, and there is no version of this situation that will not spell some sort of trouble for Xia Dong. As the army presses toward the hunting palace, he follows.

The army travels at a pace of breakneck desperation, overrunning outposts and gathering speed as it goes. The only messenger who manages to outrun them comes crying the news that it is Prince Yu and open rebellion.  The man Nie Feng had been would have done everything to oppose such a move, would have harried the army's flank, destroyed their supplies, and given his life to slow their progress. As it is, Nie Feng is no longer a man, and no longer certain what loyalty he owes to the man who must have ordered his execution. He follows at a distance instead, and watches with sharp eyes as the army closes on the hunting palace.

Battle, when battle comes, is an ugly scramble, as it always is. Nie Feng has a good vantage on a hillside, just far enough from the fighting. It is for this reason that, as the second day dawns and the gates begin to give, Nie Feng realizes with a start that he recognizes some of these tactics. A closer watch only increases his suspicion. Meng Zhi is an old friend, and Meng Zhi leads the vanguard as he always does, but Meng Zhi is not a strategist. These are someone else’s battle plans, as familiar to Nie Feng as his own. It is impossible, but no more impossible than Nie Feng himself. Nie Feng draws nearer still, and his suspicions are confirmed by the arrival of Nihuang and Jingyan, fiercely determined and clearly working together.

Nie Feng draws so near, in fact, that he is captured by Jingyan’s soldiers. Captured, and not killed, which is an uncertain relief. He is caged and brought to the hunting palace and it is there that he finds the man who was Xiao-Shu. He too is transformed, with a scholar’s unfamiliar face, and the scent of death held close to his skin, hidden to all but Nie Feng. His eyes are knowing on Nie Feng’s own. His voice is steady, commanding as he demands Nie Feng’s release, a reward for his own service that he is granted in a moment. Nie Feng is freed to Xiao-Shu’s side, and so it is that Nie Feng’s shoulder is the first under Xiao-Shu’s hand, when Xiao-Shu collapses a moment later.

The candles are burning low and dim when Mei Changsu opens his eyes. Beside him, Jingyan is deeply asleep, head resting on the edge of the bed, with Nie Feng draped warm over his lap. Lin Chen sits on his other side, fingers buried deep in the fur coverlet, silently watching him.

“You can’t be here,” he whispers. His voice is desperately hoarse.

Lin Chen laughs, soft and deep in his throat. “Can’t I? The grounds here are soaked a handsbreadth deep with blood. This place might as well be a shrine to me.”

And so it must be. They are impossibly distant from his own realm, but Lin Chen’s power rolls through the tent in palpable waves. It is a relief and a mercy, slipping under Mei Changsu’s skin like a balm, cooling the fire in his bones. He presses his own fingers a bit deeper into the coverlet. Beside him on the floor, Nie Feng makes a soft chuffing sound in his sleep, drawing Lin Chen’s eyes.

“Did you change him?” Lin Chen’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Despite what you may believe, I do not make a habit of giving out new bodies to unfortunate mortals. He is not one of mine in any case.”

“Could you change him back?”

“Are you planning another wager, Changsu? I believe your prince has already proven himself.”

“Not as a wager. As a favor. For a friend.”

Something shifts in the wry cant of Lin Chen’s mouth. It does not seem like it should be possible to surprise him, ancient and infinite as he is. Changsu flexes his fingers once more. He should not be doing this. There is no space in his plans for concerns like these, and no margin for error at all. He does not even know what this is, really. Even so, he does not drop his gaze as his fingers slip across the coverlet to twine with Lin Chen’s own.

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

Gotham s4ep8 “Stop Hitting Yourself” Review

“Toodles, poodle” Warning spoilers below

* JIM GORDON between CAPTAIN and MOB.  “He´s a disgrace” “What does that make you?” This is what he tells the mayor when he scolds Harvey Bullock for working with Penguins goons and he has got a point about the mayors involvement but he really is not the person to provide such a hit. Harvey picks the issue up after Jim signs the contract: “Nothing in Gotham is free Captain Gordon.  You just better hope you can pay up when your bill's due. And it'll come due.” Jim Gordon knows Sofial Falcone got her hands in his promotion: “No contribution necessary, Jim. Just the Falcone name and everything that it implies.” “Well, I won't do it. Not like this. And not at Harvey's expense.” This time there is no certain thing he has to do in exchange but he know that there is mob influence at play and he certainly should be imagine that this is just not friendliness even before the: “I came to restore the Falcone name, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.” announcement.

 * PRO PENGUIN? FLUNKIES & FRIENDS   Uncivilized is what these girls are. Outside the bounds of a proper criminal society.” which is said by the biker gang guy about Barbra/Tabitha/Selina which is a really odd thing to hear. Proper Criminal Society. Just let that roll of your tongue a few times. But we quickly get the contrast. Not everyone is on board with the system Oswald Cobblepot has established. The narrows laugh about the mockery Ed makes of him.  OSWALD COBBLEPOT´s mentoring interactions with little murderous Martin set the tone for the episode. Apart from the questions of old and new friendships & love the second big issue is loyalty to Penguin. With Penguin there seems to be a distinction between BUSINESS and PRIVATE: “Revenge is never as simple as a mere tit for a tat. Revenge must be specific in nature.” “For instance, friendship can be an especially deadly tactic.” “Feels good, does it not? Minions are so much better than friends.” “The greatest friend I ever had turned into my worst enemy. Shun friendship. You and I we're more than friends. We're conspirators.” Private friendship has hurt him and he is avoiding it now. This later reminds him to second guess his own newfound friendship. The Business dices get mixed this week: There is resistance forming in the Narrows. Selina Kyle starts the mood with telling Oswald “We're not your toadies.” She wants something back for their work but Oswald only offers to not take anything from them. Barbara agrees but later announces “I would like to announce that we just quit working for Penguin.” This could have been partly show for the audience to win their favour but given their previous ambitions and that hostility between them and Oswald is likely true. Also Lee´s comment about Barbara was equally unfavourable: “You're working as Penguin's flunky. That suits you.”  Penguin has no grasp and support in the Narrows: “Firefly´s Penguin's enforcer.  And who's the one who got Firefly down here, Cherry? She informed on Ed to Penguin.” “You're a snitch, Cherry.” Cherry gets killed and Firefly at least knocked out. Then new leader Lee doesn´t favour him either and Jim now head of the GCPD. > The BUSINESS SIDE of Oswald´s empire starts to be thin ICE.   > At least he seems to have figured out on the PRIVATE side that there is a fight approaching.  For once it seems SOFIA FALCONE´s manipulation falls on deaf ears: Her attempt to distract Oswald further from his business by trying to see the value of personal and private pursuits won´t work out. But her trying to suggest Oswald needs an interest outside the business, something to relieve the stress was something I liked just because it referred back to Carmine Falcone´s chickens: “Um You need chickens.” “I'm sorry?” “Do you remember my father's chickens?” “I seem to recall the don's predilection for poultry” Where OSWALD seems to loose footing: JIM GODON and LESLIE THOMPKINS gain it. Jim accepts leadership of the GCPD and Lee now is a respected figure in the Narrows. “Uh, Lee, I'm supposed to be the stupid one. You heal their children. You stitch up their warriors. You've slain a fire-breathing monster, and you helped topple the queen. This is your turf now.” “No, no, no, no, no, I am not a leader.” “Okay, well, if you don't do it, somebody else will, probably worse than Cherry.” Both Jim and Lee are shown to have some reluctance. Jim because of the way he got the job but Lee does not consider herself fit to be a leader.  But both got encouraged with the notion that there could be worse persons to take over the Job. (Sofia saying Harvey will get more cops killed, Ed just saying someone worse than Cherry) And alliance between Jim and Leslie seems to be possible in the future. “You don't just have these people laughing. You have them ready for a fight.” “So?” ”So? So, what happens when Penguin hears about all this?” “Well, let that bird waddle in here. I have Grundy. I'm gonna be fine.”  “And what about them? Your fans?” “Not my problem.”  “Ed, you've put yourself on the front line of something. You can't just bail when fighting starts.”  “Okay, Doctor. If you would like to stop hiding from your past and do some leading, you go right ahead.” “That's not what I'm here for.” “Well, then, case closed.” “Neither of us are willing to put our necks out.” At least Leslie recognizes the responsibility that could suggest she could do good in a leading position but I´m unsure about the ambition part. It´s clear that JIM wants to take action against Penguin but I´m curious to see where they will place Lee in that question. I´d actually like her to lay low for a while in the big politics and continue to build infrastructure in the narrows, if that then could develop into a stronger conflict with Oswald this could provide motivation and reason to actually pick up that fight that has already been suggested here (and in a way I would like to see.)

SOFIA FALCONE & JIM GORDON : PUPPETS and PARTNERS Sofia´s ability to manipulate Jim crumbles. She clearly appeals to his sense of duty (not unlike Oswald did it when convincing Jim to kill Theo Galavan!):  “How much longer do you plan on propping him up? And how many more cops need to die because of his incompetence? I need to go.” But choosing Harvey Bullock as her target was not wise. If she had shown more sympathy for Harvey and tried to say something among the lines of Jim should see what kind of toll the job is taking on Harvey and tried to argue that he might be doing him a favour actually relieving him from what troubles him so much things might have gone differently. But she decided to take the Harvey has to go route and at least Jim has enough friendly feelings for Harvey that it makes him resent Sofia. I do actually think that this is the point that rips them apart. The line that he “won´t do it, not like this” (being captain because of mob interference) falls flat against his history of getting his job back through mob interference the second part of “and not at Harvey´s expense” seems to have more weight.  Obviously what Jim believes is his duty still weighs more than loyalty to Harvey but his old partner still matters enough to question new ties:  “You can toy with Penguin all you want, but I am not your puppet.” “No, you're not. You're my partner.” “Your partner? I just stuck a knife in my partner's back.”

JIM GORDON &  HARVEY BULLOCK:  PARTNERS and FRIENDS With Harvey Bullock not doing his job at the BulletholeClub the show managed to find a “elegant” way for the transition of Jim Gordon taking over his job. Least I´m sure that´s what they think, the whole issue is still icky and seems forced and rushed in the light of their past and history of friendship. “Jim, I shot Officer Patel. What the hell was I supposed to do?”  Jim has a point to remind Harvey that it is part of the Job but he again is not the person to scold someone who forgets what is part and not part of the Job. Harvey saying : “I know you have my back, partner.”  should have been true. LUCIUS FOX shows more empathy and understanding for Harvey´s situation than Jim does:  “No wonder he wants a friend there.”  Jim´s following “no wonder” has an irrationally cruel tone. 1. Harvey has had Jim´s back on more than one occasion. Jim has gone astray the rules more than once and Harvey followed him without any questions and not more than a exhausted sigh. 2. Harvey has had his issues with the rules in the past and Jim could look past that it doesn´t make much sense that things would be so drastically different now.   Both Harvey and Jim have more than once failed their job but I can´t think of anything where Harvey failed Jim as much as Jim does it now for Harvey.

 * BRIDGIT PYKE & SELINA KYLE Bridgit and Selina´s interactions and meetings have been a bumpy road since she became Firelfy but this week we get to know that she has both left her past and her old friends behind. She´s in line with Penguin. It feels like she lost personality and I don’t like it.  “Come on, Bridgit.  Don't do this. You're from the Narrows.” “Yeah. And I couldn't be happier to be out. Penguin's right about this place. It's a sewer. Only way to kill the stink is to burn it.”

 * TABITHA GALAVAN & BUTCH GILZEANE “He loves me too much to hurt me.  Grundy kill! Babe, I love your faith, but I really think you should take this.” I ´m still 110% salty about he Tabitha&Butch&Barbara plot rubbish but oh my god Tabitha was so sweet when she thought she could reunite with Butch. Her face almost warmed up my frozen heart. Barbara promptly referring back to being owed for the electrocution was nice too. Those tree seem to continue to be a mixed back of love, friendship and alliances.

SOFIAL FALCONE & OSWALD COBBLEPOT: COMPANIONS and FRIENDS  “You see, Oswald? Business is not the end all of life. There are other rewards to be had. Companionship, peace of mind. Friendship.”  Words that spark some suspicion in Oswald: “Sometimes, if you're not very careful, friendship can blind you to what is staring you right in the face.”  I´m intrigued where this will lead. I´d really like to see Oswald repay the favour of pretending to be friend for a while just until he resumes the upper hand in all matters again. (Also as much as I love Sofia I can´t root for her to win, this is awkward .. )

* “That is quite a lot to go awry in one day.”   I absolutely loved the scene where OSWALD COBBLEPOT got all the bad news from Mr. PENN in front of MARTIN. He had to hold himself and his tantrums back. He only did it because he had his little audience and I suppose he mostly did to look like a strong person to look up to. A role model. You can´t be a mentor if you don´t have your shit together. Mr. Penns surprised face to see Oswald not go screaming into his face for a couple minutes was marvelous but I even more liked how this was promptly followed by a revelation. Holding himself back, restricting his outbursts and reflecting on what he does obviously had a good effect on Oswald it helped him realize something he could not see before. A little CHILL is a good thing for a Penguin ..

*“I get melodramatic under pressure.” * “And you don't know him, so you don't get to laugh.” * “Trust me, it's a great idea but far too messy to be practical.” Oswald to Firefly about feeding people their eyes. He´s a great mentor. * “We don't all make decisions based on what it can get us. There are other people in the world.” “Wow. Sexy and self righteous. What does Jim think of this new you?” //  “I thought you'd changed, but turns out, just got a new hairdo.” //   “Wow. I have got to know what is up with this outfit.” BARBARA about LEE´s outfit and saying what I was thinking a scene before.  Also: Apart the sexy and self righteous line  the “Other cheek”  line from Babs after Lee hit her was awesome!  And I bet that Barbara calculated that she would do Lee a favour shooting Cherry. I´m intrigued. * SET DESIGN did great work with Sofia Falcones table and I really appreciate the “Police through the time” piece on the wall in the bar! *Quick Question: How does CHERRY find people who get in the ring to get their arms ripped off? * Other Quick Question: How does Ed know about the Honk Honk? * I like that they incorporated some of SELINA KYLES background. She providing information about the Narrows and how things work there was a great detail! Love that! * “I was just having a little drinky-poo.”  “Toodles, poodle.”  What even? * “No one appreciates how hard it is to be a crime lord. I did actually spend my childhood being raised by one.” “My very point.”

[misshowel-blog]

The Blue Wolf - Chapter 2

Mind Maze

Judy thought she'd been puzzled back in Bunnyburrow when trying to learn the names of everyone at the Hopps family reunion, but now she knew what it felt like to be truly confused. It was as though nothing made sense regarding Nick anymore. He shunned her like she had the plague, every time she tried talking to him he'd blow up and storm off. She'd gone over it in her head a thousand times these past few days, trying to think of anything that could've prompted Nick to start behaving this way. She'd practically cross-examined the entire ZPD in search for clues to Nick's demeanor, she'd even gone so far as to call her own parents to check that her dad hadn't accidentally set the fox off.

Nothing. It just didn't add up.

An ear flicked towards the sound of Bogo's stern voice. It was nothing but a dull echo in the lobby that had managed to escape the confines of Bogo's office on the top floor. Given the circumstances, she had a fairly good guess about who was getting chewed out for the fifth time this week. It couldn't wait, she had to catch him, talk some sense into that friend of hers. Dumping her folders on Clawhausers' desk, Judy swiftly leapt up onto the banisters of the stairs, further up onto the opposite banister, flipping back and then finally up onto the top floor railing before planting her paws firmly on the floor and marching towards Bogo's office.

The closer she got however, the more troubled her expression became. Bogo didn't sound like just his irritated, scolding self. No, this was throwing her back to her first day in the ZPD. There was a kind of disgust in his booming voice that she hadn't heard in a long time. She barely noticed the fact she'd stopped approaching the door to just listen in silence and disbelief.

"If I didn't know any better, fox, I'd say you're doing this just to get under my skin!" There was a thunk from inside, Bogo had probably slammed something onto the desk.

"Yeah, well, maybe I am! Maybe I'm sick of you and your.. Face!" Judy frowned with a bit of a scrunched up nose. What a strange insult.

"Mr. Wilde" Bogo seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth, desperate to keep his composure. " In light of your, sudden incompetence, to work in a team and do your job, I have no choice but to let, you, go."

"Fine! I didn't want to work for your stupid ass anyway. Screw all of you!" Judy had only just reached for the door to protest the whole situation when it was practically kicked open as Nick stormed out, tossing his police cap into a nearby trash can.

"Nick, wait!" She was mid-step when Bogo grabbed onto her shoulder to stop her from going after the fox, who'd hurriedly made his way down to the lobby and out the door. Yanking her shoulder free, she turned to glare up at the massive animal in front of her.

"You fired him?! How could you do that?!" Bogo's previous anger seemed like it had just washed away from him. He knew how close Nick and Judy were, and he was not going to make light of the situation.

"Judy, I'm sorry, but there was nothing else I could do." His voice had fallen to a mellow tone as he placed his hands together, as if cuffed. "My hands are tied by protocol. An officer who cannot do their job, who cannot work with others, is not allowed to remain an officer."

"But this isn't him, you know that..!" What was she even pleading for? Work had been exhausting this past week because of Nick, that she couldn't deny. Clawhauser hadn't been himself either, apparently Nick had been quite cruel to him.

"It's just.. It's not like him, there's, there's got to be a reason..!" Judy stroked her hands down her ears, looking at the floor as she was thinking. Bogo sank down to one knee, getting down as close to eye-level as he could to the small rodent, placing a heavy but gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe there is. But I have a responsibility to make sure my officers are content and capable at work. Nick made that impossible. I had, no, choice." Judy raised her gaze to look her boss sadly in the eyes. He was right. His hands were tied, there was nothing he could've done but fire her friend and partner.

"However," Judy's ears perked up as Bogo once again spoke while getting up. "I won't stop you from trying to find the reason, if there is one. Have a good day, officer Hopps." With those words, he returned to his office, shutting the door behind him. Judy's hands curled into fists and she straightened out, giving herself a nod.

"I am going to find out what his reason is." Rushing over to the trash can, she pulled out Nicks' cap, dusting it off and looking at it with a bit of a curious smile.

"What are you up to, that's the question." With a grin, Judy made a great leap onto the lobby booth roof and down onto the floor, Nicks' cap firmly in hand, throwing a quick 'sorry for startling you' to Clawhauser who'd all but jumped out of his skin at the sudden bang of someone landing on the sphere roof above him.

This was just another case, wasn't it? Just one that involved a friend. A mystery in need of unraveling, a maze of the mind she just had to get through. Judy couldn't help but grin as she made a leap into a corner, kicking off the wall and heading further down the corridor, bouncing off the walls to make swift turns. She had no patience to simply walk. This was important. This was even sort of exciting! In a, nervous kind of way.

"Mr. Filcher!" The bunny had thrown the door of the computer-lit room wide open, letting it smack back against the wall, a noise sudden enough to nearly startle the raccoon right out of his seat.

"M-m-miss- I mean Officer Hopps!" He blurted out as he spun around his chair to face her, eyes wide with surprise. It was rare for anyone to visit his office. He quickly checked his clothes, good, they were on right, no coffee stains or nothing. Looking back at the bunny, he smiled a quivering smile, apparently a bit nervous about her bursting into his space.

"What can I-"

"How'd you feel about solving a mystery?" She'd zipped up right in front of him, holding Nick's cap with a wide smile. The raccoon blinked, looking from the cap to the bunny, cap to bunny, before tipping his head slightly to the side with knitted brows.

"Is this about Officer Wilde?" Judy nodded excitedly, her eyes never leaving the other as he got up to close the door she'd slammed open.

"He's been a bit... Different?" His voice peaked at the word different, unsure if it was appropriate for him to even comment on someone so close to the bunny. Judy simply raised an eyebrow.

"Different is a bit of an understatement, don't you think, Mr. Filcher?"

"Please, Kyle."

"Kyle." Judy smiled, she hadn't actually thought to ask his first name before. Everyone just went by their surname, it seemed. "Kyle, different is an understatement. It's like he's gone completely bonkers!"

The choice of word got a snort of a chuckle out of the raccoon and he returned to his seat, clearing his desktop screen, assuming Judy was needing his digital help.

"True. So, what can I do for you, Officer Hopps?"

"Judy." She grinned, placing the cap on the desk.

"Right. So what can I do for you, Judy?" Kyle smiled a bit, his small ears perked up, intrigued by this mystery.

"Well I figured, since you're our tech guy,"

"Technical analyst, yes."

"So that's what it's called!" She snapped her fingers in a sweeping motion. "Everyone always just says tech guy, why is that?" Judy peered curiously at the raccoon, who seemed to become a bit flustered by the whole situation.

"I, I think it's because it's shorter." He quickly cleared his throat. "You were saying..?"

"Right! Since you're our technical analyst, you can dig up things about people's past, right?" There was such a happy chirp in her voice, and she couldn't really stay still, bouncing ever so slightly up and down, her fingertips weighing on the edge of the desk. "Like you do with suspects to find connections and such?"

"Yes, that's, pretty much my job. I, dive into the data that's accumulated on the web, I, uh, dig it up and distribute it to the relevant officers.. Why do you ask?" He jolted as Judy quickly leaned in close.

"I need you to look into Nicks' past." It took a moment for the task to sink in, but once it did, he stared at her in a bit of shock.

"Dig into the past of an officer? I'm not even sure, I mean, am I even allowed to do that? Background checks aren't, I mean, I've got to get the okay from Bogo-"

"Nick isn't an officer anymore. He got fired." The reminder was enough to turn her excitable expression into that of a more somber one, her ears lowering behind her. A silence fell as she stood up, her shoulders a bit slumped. She sucked in a soft, slow breath before speaking again.

"Bogo fired him, because of.. Well, everything."

"I... I'm sorry, I know he was your partner.."

"Yeah," A hand instinctively went up to rub at her own arm, a sigh escaping her. "It's.. Not fun. Everything was going so well, I don't know what's gotten into him." Sucking in a sharp breath through her nose, she straightened up and smacked a fist against the desk.

"And that's what I aim to find out!" She turned her steadfast gaze to Kyle. "Will you help me?" Kyle furrowed his brows slightly, watching her as he pondered about it. It was strange, the sudden change in Nicks' behaviour. It wasn't normal, it couldn't just have come out of nowhere. Scratching the back of his head, he then gave a nod with a bit of a smile, his hands returning to his keyboard.

"Alright. So, I dig into Nicks' past?" Judy grinned at his response and gave him a big squeeze of a hug around his neck.

"Yes! Thank you!" She hopped back, bouncing from one foot to the other with a big, excited smile on her lips. "Tell me when you find something! I've got work to do!" She had barely finished her sentence before she'd zoomed out of the door, leaping down the hallway towards her office, leaving a rather surprised raccoon to do his work. She was in a hurry, heading through the lobby and towards the offices.

"Just you wait Nick, I'll have you back in no time...-!"

"Judy! Wait!" Judy screeched to a halt as she heard Clawhausers' voice.

"Yeah, what is it Ben?" She automatically dusted off her clothes despite them already being impeccable.

"The Chief wants you to keep working the leads on the vandalism."

"What? But I've got to figure out what's going on with Nick, he said it was fine for me to do that..!" The chubby cheetah didn't seem to enjoy relaying this message, fumbling around with his tie, idly twisting it back and forth.

"Yeah, he says he knows you want to rush off to save 'that fox' - he said it really angrily too - but, we need you to keep being a cop." Clawhauser promptly handed her a folder, looking a bit uncomfortable with the task of messenger. "Just.. Do what he says Judy, okay?"

Letting out a short snort, Judy reluctantly took the folder. Of course, she shouldn't have expected Bogo to just let her run off and conduct her own private investigation without interference.

"Alright. Thanks, Ben. Take it easy, okay?"

"Are you really going to try and bring Nick back?" His voice was quiet, hesitant. Almost as if he'd become scared of the fox in question. Judy gently placed a paw on his arm, looking at him with intense resolve.

"I will, bring him back." She smiled, patting his arm lightly. "And he'll be back to normal, you'll see." Those words seemed to ease the cheetah's mind and he nodded with a smile.

"Good luck, Judy." He meant those words, she could feel it. They made her feel warm, because it meant that despite everything, Ben hadn't given up on Nick. She didn't even think Bogo had given up on him. In her eyes, only one mammal had given up on that sly fox.

Nick himself.

Heading towards her office, by now she'd slowed down to a quick-paced walk, flipping through the folder as she moved. It was a list of various names of both mammals and places. It wasn't limited to Tundra Town anymore - it seemed Bogo had given her even more to do. Perhaps that was his way of trying to keep her head in the game. Perhaps it was his way of telling her to let Nick go. There was no way to be sure, but the faster she managed to solve this, the faster she could continue working to solve Nicks' situation.

Her ears swiveled as she read. Apparently it wasn't just vandalism, but threats as well. Some spray-painted onto the side of businesses, some delivered as letters. One even had a dead bird slipped through their mail slot. Yuck. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder in this bustling city of Zootopia.

Still, despite all that had happened, she didn't regret coming to Zootopia. Not in the slightest. She'd grown so much as a mammal, and she'd learned so much. Sighing softly, she slipped onto her seat, pulling out a notebook as well as her iconic carrot pen from one of the drawers to begin making notes. Her nose was twitching and ears flicking, evidence of how her mind was racing. Only half her attention was spent on making a list of in which order she should go to the victims, with the goal of saving as much time as possible. The other half was spent on questions. Nagging notions. Suspicious statements. Worried whispers. What if there was nothing to find out?

She smacked down her pen to glare at the wall in front of her.

"No. There is something at work here." Using the pens' point to scratch under her own chin, she wore a frown of deep thought, looking down at her notepad. "I've just got to find out what." She then swiftly moved to open up a framed photo. It was a picture of her and Nick at his graduation. A faint smile ghosted over her lips before she pulled open a drawer, hurriedly twisting off a piece of tape, flipping over to a blank page and taping the picture to it. Clicking out the point of her pen, she bent over her notebook, scribbling down a new title above the picture.

CASE FILE - NICHOLAS P. WILDE.

[swipestream]

The Last Jedi Is Star Wars for People Who HATE Star Wars

If Rogue One was Star Wars for people who didn’t like Star Wars, then The Last Jedi is Star Wars for people who HATE Star Wars. By, for, and of.

“But I like Star Wars!” That’s fine. They still didn’t make this movie for you. This is a movie with contempt for you, the audience, contempt for the characters, and contempt for Star Wars itself.

The movie LOOKS great. Ships go fast, things blow up, people shoot blasters: it looks appropriately Star Warsian. The director has spectacle down pat, maybe even better than JJ Abrams did. But that’s all the movie has going for it: spectacle. That can entertaining by itself, but once you notice the underlying problems (so many I can only touch on a few here), you realize that, despite it looking like Star Wars, it’s just not Star Wars.

Star Wars is supposed to be a Science Fiction Space Opera, an epic story about the struggle between good and evil. Good is noble, honorable, and virtuous. Half of Team Evil, in the form of the Galactic Empire, is clear and unambiguous: it is a cruel and murderous despotism who maintains power through terror and force. The other half of Team Up To No Good—The Force and the Dark Side thereof—is amorphous, seductive, and corrupting. As the Rebels fight the Empire in starships to defeat its evil, so, too, must Luke Skywalker fight against the whispers of the Dark Side in his heart, fight to embrace the harder but more rewarding path of the Light Side, in order to defeat Lord Vader and ultimately the Emperor. That is Star Wars, and a movie without that dichotomy at its core is not Star Warsian.

The Last Jedi evinces no such dichotomy. Though its metaphysics are murky, as is its morality, and though it pays lip service to the notion of the Dark Side, when Rey confronts a place strong in the Dark Side (as Luke did in the tree on Dagobah), the Dark Side appears as just an infinite mirror, reflecting Rey back at herself. It’s a magical trap, straight out of a Sword and Sorcery tale, and unlike the Dark Side tree on Dagobah the infinite mirror pit is neither ominous nor disturbing. The Dark tree revealed to Luke the danger of him becoming his father, in a memorable and jarring vision; the Hall of Infinite Mirrors reveals precisely nothing about Rey. She makes no meaningful choices, gains no insights, and the entire event is pointless. There is nothing at all to indicate why this part of the island is Dark, nor does that imputed quality affect the movie in the slightest.

Moreover, the movie explicitly embraces the notion that the Force itself is Balance (Luke says this over and over again when teaching Rey). Not split between Light and Dark, but Balance. Added to this, the only coherent moral thesis advanced by any character is explicitly nihilistic and relativistic: Benicio Del Toro’s character says there is no difference between the Republic and the First Order, that cruel and wealthy arms merchants arm both sides and profit from the war, no matter who wins. Taken to its logical extent, making war against the First Order is meaningless, as both sides are (in effect) the same and whether one or the other wins, nothing changes.

Star Wars is about heroics and heroism. From the raid on the Death Star to rescue the princess, to the doomed last-ditch battle on Hoth, buying time for the transports to escape, to the intricate plot to rescue Han Solo from Jabba the Hut, characters risk their lives to save the lives of others or just to fight evil, many times at great cost to themselves. Courage, especially physical courage, is central to the entire trilogy (and is the chief reason the series is so beloved).

The Last Jedi mocks courage, heroics, and heroism. Poe Dameron, the cocky fighter pilot, risks his life and the lives of his teammates to destroy the most formidable ship hunting the Resistance, and for this is upbraided and demoted. Later, faced with a no-win scenario, he concocts a desperate plan to disable the First Order’s tracking, allowing the remnants of the Resistance to escape and live to fight another day. Not only does the plan fail, it results in the deaths of some 2/3rds of what few members of the Resistance were left. And when Finn, a non-entity through most of the film, is about to sacrifice his own life to save even that pitiful remnant, he is knocked off course by a fellow rebel, and the First Order’s weapon is allowed to fire. His self-sacrifice, the intervening character says, is stupid and pointless because that’s just the way it is.

The only time anyone is allowed to sacrifice themselves heroically, is when Vice Admiral Tumblr Hair (played by Laura Dern) gets to blow up the entire First Order fleet whilst dying heroically, but even this sacrifice is meaningless: Kylo Ren and General Hux survive, and are able to mount an assault on the planetary base the Rebels fled to, an assault that is more than twice as large as the one Vader launched against Hoth. Tumblr Hair dies for nothing. In this movie, all heroics are meaningless, and that is just not Star Wars.

The total lack of heroism is one reason, but the other is this: This movie is just not epic. And Star Wars is epic.

I don’t mean epic as in a series of ten 300,000 word novels, I mean epic as in a weighty and significant struggle which matters. A struggle that means something. Tolkien, now Tolkien was epic. Even the Jackson “Lord of the Rings” movies managed to feel epic. (“The Hobbit” movies, not so much.)

The original Star Wars trilogy, from the Death Star to… well, the other Death Star was epic. It was a galactic struggle for freedom, with momentous consequences for the galaxy, and the movies let you feel that. Hell, even the PREQUEL TRILOGY was epic (in comparison). Get past the first film, and the struggle against the robot armies and the loss of freedom for the galaxy had moments of epicness. Star Wars is supposed to be epic.

The Last Jedi is not epic.

The very first scene is Poe pranking General Hux (primary combat leader of the First Order), just like Bart Simpson used to prank Moe the Bartender. No, Hux didn’t ask around for an “I. C. Weiner? Is there an I. C. Weiner on the bridge?” but he did say, over and over, “Can he hear me now?” after Poe placed him on hold.

That’s right. The head of the main bad guys—who MUST be competent and terrifying for the film to feel epic—is reduced to a stammering doof parodying a VERIZON WIRELESS AD.

(You know, I didn’t think you could HAVE product placement in a Star Wars film. Well played, Disney. Well played, indeed.)

The inapt and distracting humor (Content Warning: actual humor not included) continued throughout the movie. The film never had the chance to feel epic because every moment of sincerity was spoiled by a joke. It was so bad, I kept expecting Vice Admiral Tumblr Hair to stroll onto the bridge shouting “Wassup bitches!” It would not have been out of place.

“Epic” is a matter of artistic execution, not in-world scale. You can threaten to blow up two ferries with a couple of hundred people aboard or actually blow up five planets with billions of inhabitants, and the first scene might very well feel more epic than the second, if the director makes it so.

Epic and moving stories—epic in spirit, not epic in length, stories of great deeds being done by great men—require a sense of grandeur, of majesty, of awe. That is, the writer must have, within their breast, an understanding of the might and power of great men and great deeds. They must FEEL it.

A small man cannot.

Small men—not short men, but men with shriveled souls—have no notion of greatness nor daring. They cannot comprehend nor depict a struggle against insuperable odds, self-sacrifice in the face of near-certain doom. Their own paucity of courage and manliness dooms their every effort. Art reveals the artist, inevitably.

Even if they depict events that might, in other hands, feel epic, in their hands such events appear quotidian and even boring. Explosions, practical effects, and sound design can give the appearance of an epic struggle, and can distract the audience from a work’s fundamental flaws, but if at its center there is naught but a hollow emptiness, a nihilistic meaningless, this will render all the struggles pointless, no matter how many people are supposedly fighting or supposedly dying.

Epic stories like Star Wars do not have weak and incompetent enemies, nor do they mock heroism and heroes. The Last Jedi never does anything but.

Epic deeds are never pointless. They ALWAYS impact the world. They matter. No deed in TLJ matters. In the end, the good guys are utterly defeated. The Rebellion is destroyed, reduced to the paltry few who can ride aboard the Millennium Falcon, and the entire Galaxy has abandoned them, choosing despotism over the animating struggle for freedom. The movie is a Shoot the Shaggy Dog story, made up of many smaller Shoot the Shaggy Dog stories. It’s a fractal diagram of suck, and the closer you look, the more abhorrent elements you discover. TLJ is suck all the way down.

The Prequels were bad Star Wars movies. The Last Jedi is a bad not-a-Star–Wars movie. TLJ is the anti-Star Wars, the un-Star Wars, a cheap and hollow counterfeit of a far greater work, identical in appearance, but lacking any substance.

I’ve noticed that the more exposure people have to Pulp stories—you know, the GOOD stuff—the more they dislike The Last Jedi. People who read Pulp regularly have become attuned to the flaws of modern F&SF, so the deficiencies in TLJ are readily apparent to them. To fans of the more modern stuff, this probably seems like more of the same entertainment they get every day. Which is most of the problem, and not just with this movie, but post-modern culture as a whole.

Audiences WANT stories of heroism and heroics. They meet a deep need in us to admire the brave and self-sacrificing, and to be inspired by them.

The Last Jedi is not such a tale. It is entertaining, because of spectacle, but that spectacle hides the movie’s poisonous core of nihilism. Time will not be kind.

After all, a movie that includes this scene will never attain the status of an intergenerationally beloved classic:

http://ift.tt/2BbFzeU

I rest my case.

Jasyn Jones, better known as Daddy Warpig, is a host on the Geek Gab podcast, a regular on the Superversive SF livestreams, and blogs at Daddy Warpig’s House of Geekery. Check him out on Twitter.

The Last Jedi Is Star Wars for People Who HATE Star Wars published first on http://ift.tt/2zdiasi