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calcifiedunderland · 2 months ago

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Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

A Beautiful Tyrant: V. Schoenheit

Introduction, or Pick another route!

Vil x GN! Reader

Warnings: P&P-level angst and miscommunication, Vil tendencies, talks of stress, the Power of Meddling Friends (ft. Jack and Epel)

Notes: I thoroughly enjoyed writing this part. It took several hours of overthinking, but this is probs my favorite. And I twst-ed Lizzy and Darcy. Hope you enjoy, this has been my contribution to the twst community, thx everyone <3

You smelled Vil before you saw him.

A musky, regal scent wafted into your nostrils and you felt your body tense automatically. Here comes the Queen, you sighed, shifting the stack of script papers in your arms.

Earlier that week, Vil sought you out. When he and Rook finally cornered you in Alchemy lab, he asked (demanded) you help him out with the Film Research Club’s latest production. You weren’t exactly at liberty to say no, because you knew you wouldn’t have a moments peace from Rook, Vil, and any one of Vil’s mob of fans at NRC if you did.

This all wouldn’t have started if Vil hadn’t walked by when you were reading Prejudice and Pride. It was after-hours, and you were reading under the Fairest Queen’s statue on Main Street for a change of scenery from Ramshackle’s dusty sitting room.

As luck (or misfortune) had it, you two started chatting. After you showed him what you were reading, Vil mentioned thoughtfully that he’d been looking for inspiration for a new Film Research Club production. Apparently, Prejudice and Pride was a classic on Sage’s Island, as it was in your world - a classic that Vil thought was just perfect to perform. And wanted you to help with, since you were now reading it.

So, here you were - up at 5am, yawning as the sunrise came up, waiting for Vil who somehow looked very put together (complete with perfume and a full face of makeup and a chic outfit, on a Saturday). It was just you, him, Ortho, and a handful of other club students at the moment.

“Set that over there, Jack,” Vil nodded, and the two of them walked to you. You smiled at Jack, a bit surprised. “Hey, what brings you here?” Your fellow first year smiled back at you, surprisingly energetic despite the early hour. “Vil and I usually run together around this time, he said he needed a hand with the set. I thought I’d help him out.”

You were about to respond when you yawned, stretching a bit. Vil set down a box, side eyeing you, “keep your eyes open, Prefect. I want all your attention.” You sighed, picking up your clipboard, “on it, Vil.”

—•—💜👑💜—•—

You were exhausted.

It was safe to say that, after working for a month with the Film Club, it was tough to get out of bed at 5 in the morning, deal with Vil’s weird iciness, and then trudge through the rest of the day.

Somehow, a conversation about the character dynamics of the two main leads snowballed into Vil thrusting the movie script into your ‘capable’ hands. Apparently, no one else in this world could fully understand the complex relationship that the main characters, Ellis Benner and Mr. Darby, had except you and Vil. When you began protesting, Vil’s sharp gaze locked onto you.

“Enough of this. I will not have this production fail before it even begins, and if it means learning on the job, then so be it. I do pride myself on seeing potential, (Name).” Gingerly, he put a finger under your chin. Maybe the light played tricks on your eyes, but you thought his gaze softened fondly at you, “I wouldn’t give you this if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

And that was how Vil Schoenheit schmoozed you into writing the next blockbuster hit. No pressure, or anything.

So far, the production had gone off without a hitch. You’d been at it for a couple weeks, and had gotten into full swing of things. Vil took the helm as director, while you were doubling as production manager and script writer. You’d lamented to Jack that you were more like Vil’s second-hand when it came to the production. You were glad Jack was popping by a little more often, since some of the work had to be done done before classes began at 8am.

Currently you were going over the script with Rook. A few times, Rook’s flamboyant gestures and over-the-top comments made you laugh, causing a few students to look over. After a while, you noticed that every time you laughed, Vil seemed to look at you with a frown - as if he was mildly annoyed with your amusement. Even when you weren’t laughing, you saw him glance at you out of the corner of his eye. After a while, you had enough.

You leaned closer to Rook quietly. “Rook, be honest. Did I offend Vil?” Rook looked at you, eyes wide. “Pourquoi? Le Roi du Poison doesn’t seem offended by you at all.” You glanced over at Vil. Yep, he was still staring at you, but now his brows were pinched in a deep frown, violet eyes stormy. Rook looked over aghast, “Mais non! He will get wrinkles!”

Vil abruptly rose from his seat and all but stomped over to you and Rook. Stray students jumped away from his path, as if his mere aura made them skittish. You tensed, staring him down.

“Prefect,” he said icily. “Vil,” you responded evenly, looking him in the eye.

“I seem to recall that I put you in charge to look over the script. You don’t seem to be doing that.” You drew yourself up, head raised to look up at Vil, “I found some errors. Rook was helping me.” Vil’s eyes darted to Rook, who smiled pleasantly. “The tricksteur has a keen eye! The production will shine with both your beauties when it is done!” This seemed to calm Vil down.

“Yes, it will…” he murmured to himself, then his eyes snapped to you. “I’ll see you back at the dorm, Rook. Prefect, I expect a full report by tomorrow. We’ll go over the changes together.” Vil marched off, and you sighed heavily. Rook patted your arm affectionately, before giving you a cryptic smile.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

“Cut! Absolutely not!”

You watched Vil with a frown, shifting in your chair, “I didn’t think that one was bad.” For the past few days, Vil wanted the contenders for the main lead and love interest to act out a scene together - a ‘chemistry test’ between actors to see if they’d work well together. Earlier, you’d offhandedly mentioned how you wanted the ballroom dance scene in the script to have a good balance of tension and romance. At that, Vil looked thoughtful, “perhaps we should make sure our leads work well together.”

You were dragged out of your thoughts as the two students acting on the stage muttered to themselves as they stalked off. You hummed, leaning back in your chair, “let’s end it for today. Everyone’s already tired as it is.” As everyone cleared out, you looked at Vil carefully, “we can start again tomorrow. But I really thought those students were fine.”

You couldn’t understand why Vil looked so annoyed. “Prefect, playing the roles of Ellis Benner and Mr. Darby goes deeper than just acting well for a scene. It has to be believable. And I’d like it to be faithful to the book.” You sighed, “is this all because one of them stumbled during the dance? It’s harder than it looks, y’know.”

Vil gave you a pointed look, “no, but both of them should dance better.” He sniffed, “Although I disagree. I’ve made the dance quite simple.” Vil looked over at you, something swirling in his eyes, “even you could grasp it.”

You bristled at his words. “Oh? Even me?” you echoed, frowning at him. Vil nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’ll show you.” Suddenly you were swept to your feet, Vil’s hand in yours, leading you to the stage. His expression was unreadable as he faced you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, “now, (Name), follow my lead.”

The beginning of the dance’s violin music wafted in the air delicately as you and Vil stepped together. “Focus, Prefect.”

You were definitely focused, if only to make sure you didn’t show how flustered you were. All you could see were Vil’s deep violet eyes, and you were hyper aware of his perfume. You weren’t sure how long you were clasped together, panting, until-

“Hey Vil, I brought the boxes you wanted, where should-?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as you parted from Vil, face feeling hotter than lava. Poor Jack looked baffled, muscling a heavy-looking box with props. You hurriedly straightened your shirt, glancing to Vil. Even he didn’t look fully composed, swallowing thickly.

“Yes, just-“ Vil cleared his throat, “just set them over there. Thank you, Jack. We’ll see you in the morning.” Jack ran a hand in his hair, confused, but nodded and left. You were suddenly aware you were still holding hands with Vil. You quickly let go, abruptly saying “well, we should go too. I- well, good night!” And you ran as fast as you could out of the set, not seeing the forlorn look on Vil’s face.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

“What?!”

You gaped at Rook, eyes wide. He looked equally distressed at the news. Apparently, during Spelldrive practice, Epel had fallen off his broom and gotten injured. “Is Epel okay?!”

“Oui, mon cher, he is alright. I just came from the dorm, the nurse gave him a healing potion. He will be fine, but alas! He will not be able to attend the practice dinner Vil is hosting!” Rook sighed dramatically, hands open wide next to him as he shook his head.

You bit your lip, “do you know if it’d be ok if I went to see him later? I’m sure he’d at least like the company…” Rook’s gaze warmed, “Oui! The company of a friend is always welcome,” he looked outside. “Although, it will likely rain later.”

You glanced out, snorting. “It’s bright and sunny out, Rook. I doubt it’ll rain.” Rook looked at you, mischief in his eyes, “bah oui, tricksteur. A hunter knows.”

—•—💜👑💜—•—

Needless to say, you will never doubt Rook again. Ever.

He said it’d rain, and rain it did. As soon as you got out of the botanical gardens after Herbology, a mini flood rushed your way down the dirt path. You hunched your shoulders and ran up the path to the Hall of Mirrors to get to Pomefiore.

Once you made it to the elegant halls of the Fairest Queen’s dorm, you trudged to the common room. You were about to make a beeline to the dorms, when-

“Great Sevens, Prefect, did you walk through the rain?!” Vil’s voice made your limbs freeze. Your eyes widened. Vil’s eyebrows knit together as he stood up, looking at you. He was oddly quiet, any other criticism halting on his lips. The two of you stared at each other strangely, until a student on the couch cleared their throat, wanting to talk to Vil.

You suddenly found your voice. “I’m so sorry,” you realized you were dripping dirt onto the nice carpet floors, “uh, is Epel in his room?” “Yes” Vil’s eyes bored into yours. You opened your mouth silently, then said “thanks.” You glanced at the other student, before nodding to yourself and leaving.

Silence passed, while Vil stared at your leaving figure after you disappeared down the hall. “By the Sevens, Housewarden did you see their clothes? Dripping water all over the floor,” the student said snobbishly, looking at the trail you’d left. “And their shoes and pants hem just caked six inches deep in mud.” He looked at Vil, thinking his upperclassmen would agree, but a chill went through him as Vil’s violet eyes bored coldly into his. “That’s enough. Now, did you want something or are you wasting both of our times?” The student shut up.

Meanwhile in Epel’s dorm, you were relieved to see him on the mend. He was just glad he could avoid Vil for a bit. In any case, you could tell he was fine because he had no problem complaining with you, which warmed your heart.

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “He just-! Sometimes we’re completely fine with each other, and sometimes he just hates me, Epel!” Your friend just sighed, “look, Vil doesn’t hate you. It’s the opposite really-“ “He’s weird around me!” That got Epel’s attention. He angled himself and listened intently.

You balled up your fists, gritting your teeth. “He just stares at me!” You threw your arms open, “MENACINGLY!”

Epel watched you, unimpressed, piecing together what you said, and Rook’s cryptic words and Vil’s strange fascination with working with you. He hummed, “Maybe he likes the challenge?” You stopped your rant, looking up at him, “huh?” Epel shrugged, “no one else can speak to him like that.” “Not even you?” You teased, nudging him. Epel gave you a look before throwing his now-empty apple juice at you. You dodged it, laughing loudly.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

“Ah, there you are.”

You looked up from your lunch. Across the table from you stood Vil, arms crossed. You felt Epel tense, and you mentally prepared yourself to listen to a long speech.

A chill went down your spine when Vil stated “You can stop looking so tense, Epel. I’m here for (Name).” What could he want? You’d already given him the final script, and castings for the production. This could’ve waited till club time.

Vil began, “I’ve looked over the script, Prefect, and I think it’s good.” Wonderful. “But, I’m going to change one thing,” he inhaled, and looked you in the eye firmly, “You will play the role of Ellis Benner.”

Epel’s fork clattered down onto the plate, and his jaw dropped. You stared back at Vil, stomach churning anxiously. “Vil, I can’t play Ellis, I have no time. Besides, you didn’t have me do any readings-” Vil cut you off, “We’ll discuss this later. For now, go over what you can, and we’ll rehearse together.” As he walked off, you frowned. A single word he said echoed in your mind - ‘together’?

—•—💜👑💜—•—

You rubbed your eyes as you trudged to the set. You held your script in-hand, filled with highlights and written notes in the margins. There was no way today was going to go smoothly. After your mini-scare with Vil in the cafeteria, you didn’t think you sufficiently went over your lines. Sure, Vil was a little overbearing, but hopefully he’d be understanding.

You were surprised to see no one at the set. “Uh, hello?” You said hollowly, peering at the empty set. You were spooked when Vil stepped out into a spotlight. “Prefect, you’re here.”

You put your things down, and walked to him. “Look, Vil, I didn’t get a lot of time to prepare,” you looked around again for good measure, “and I guess the actor for the Darby isn’t here, so we’ll have to postpone it for today.” You couldn’t hide your relief.

Your heart dropped when Vil responded, “There is no need to cancel. I’ve decided on an appropriate actor for Darby.”

“Who?” You asked. Vil looked over at you, something swirling in his eyes, “Myself.” Your eyes widened as Vil took your hands and swept you towards the stage. “We will be going over the confession scene, the one in the rain.”

You blinked, trying to flip to the scene in your script. You hadn’t gone over this part. Still, you guessed you could improvise some lines with Vil, maybe?

“Vil, why do you want to play Darby? I thought the other actors were good. And the ones for Ellis were good, too.” Sure, you knew he always wanted to play the hero, but this seemed sudden. Vil turned to you, a hand on his hip, “I only want the best for this story. Such a classic needs two main leads who do it justice, and who better than you and me?” he sounded haughty, eyes daring you to challenge him.

You sighed through your nose, and launched into the scene without delay. “Fine.” If Vil wanted a good Ellis, you’ll give him a good Ellis. You steeled yourself.

“‘Mr. Darby? What are you doing here? In the rain?’” You asked, chin lifted in defiance.

Vil switched seamlessly, standing across from you. “Ellis, finally. I’ve struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer.” It was like the air shifted as he got into character. “These past few months have been torment. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and l-love you.” Vil took a deep breath, and you couldn’t quite describe it, but you felt his demeanor slip.

“I’ve fought against the inferiority of your status, rank, magical ability-” what? You thought, magical ability? That didn’t come from the book, “- and circumstance, but I’m willing to put them aside.” Vil held your gaze firmly, and you felt your heart in your throat.

He continued, taking a step closer to you, voice becoming thick, “I’m asking you to end my agony, (name). I beg you-” you didn’t realize he’d taken your hands, and your script fell to the ground, “please do me the honor of courting you. Please accept my hand.” You held his gaze, your next line falling silent. Something felt strangely… intimate about this rehearsal.

You were taking too long to deliver your line. Vil frowned impatiently, “(Name), your line please?” You sucked in a breath and took a step back, letting go of his hands. “What?” Vil asked, and briefly, hurt flashed in his eyes. “Vil,” your voice wavered, throat thick, eyes wide, “You said my name. During the line, y-you were supposed to say Ellis, but you said mine.”

You saw Vil slowly realize what just happened. He cleared his throat, and you saw the tips of his ears turn red. Was The Vil Schoenheit flustered? He spoke, “Yes well, I did have an… ulterior motive to casting you as Ellis, and myself as Darby.”

He took a deep breath, holding your gaze, “I didn’t exactly want to tell you like this, but I do indeed…” he ground his teeth, and forced out the words, “have feelings for you. I have tried to stop them, but…” He shook his head, and continued, “Well, I do understand that it may be shocking to you, what with you having no magic or connections in this world aside from Grim, and living in Ramshackle of all places, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded, as he continued in a matter-of-fact way, “But I can overlook that. You could switch dorms, and come to Pomefiore.” He stopped, waiting for your response. As if it were no other thing you would possibly do. You felt yourself grow angry under Vil’s gaze.

“So, that’s it then?” You looked at him, and he seemed shocked at the anger in your eyes, “you wanted to tell me that despite all of these things you’re willing to associate with me? That I’m not good enough for you but you’ll like me anyway?” Vil’s eyes widened, but your voice grew louder. “Is that what this production is about? You trying to confess in some twisted, insulting way?” Vil frowned, eyes becoming stormy, “You have some nerve speaking like that to me, Prefect-”

“You are so arrogant.” Your eyes stung, “You expect me to date you, even after you said all of that to me? After making me work tirelessly for this stupid production and stressing me out? You don’t even like that you like me.” You laughed humorlessly, “Forget it, Vil. I’m never going to date you.”

You turned on your heel, feeling your eyes well up. You went straight back to Ramshackle and flung yourself onto your bed, ignoring Grim’s yelp and pats on your back, trying to ask you what’sa matter henchhuman?

Back on the set, Vil stared at you as you left, feeling the same way he did after he overblotted. He slowly gathered his things and began trekking back to Pomefiore in silence, replaying every word, action, and emotion as if he were rewatching takes from his movies, wondering if he was acting or if he really was diabolical. He didn’t notice the water dripping from above until he stepped into a puddle, the water soaking his socks. Ah, he thought, looking up to see the grey sky, it’s raining.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

You didn’t return to set for a week. You weren’t quite sure how to feel when Vil didn’t reach out.

After that day, you were sure that consequences known as Rook Hunt would be… well, hunting you. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched, and whenever you turned around to look, you noticed Rook looking at you with a somber expression. Still, he didn’t approach you. Some part of you sort of wished he did.

You couldn’t deny that your days were much shorter and less stressful now that you didn’t have Film Club, and since its members weren’t reaching out to you. Still, sometimes you found yourself a little too idle. Even your friends had noticed your moodiness, but thankfully didn’t tease you much whenever you’d pull out Prejudice and Pride to read. At first, Ace started to tease you that maybe you oughta switch dorms to Pomefiore if you were gonna read the stuffy classics! but when he saw you upset, he laid off.

You still did see Vil, but he simply went about his day normally, never glancing in your direction. Hurt pooled in your stomach whenever you saw him, and even when you scrolled through MagiCam, it felt like you only saw Vil. Advertising a movie. Old clips of his past films. Product promotions. His MagiCam account.

“I heard you quit the Film Club, Prefect. You okay?” Jack asked, setting his lunch tray down. You shrugged, pushing around the food on your plate. Epel nodded, “I overheard from Rook that ya quit, too.” Epel didn’t mention that what he’d heard was Rook waxing poetry to Vil to try and get him to go after you to explain himself, but he didn’t think you needed to know that. Especially when you looks clammy as soon as you heard Film Club.

“The work got a little… much,” you responded after a bit, “that’s all.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, “Vil’s been looking stressed without you. He’s been trying to find actors fast. He said the original ones he had in mind didn’t work out, he looked pretty bummed out about it.” You tensed, and it didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. Finally, the bell rang, and you all but sprang up to leave, “bye guys, see you after class!”

Epel frowned as you escaped, “they have potions with me after lunch. I’m literally their lab partner.”

Jack’s frown matched Epels. “Something’s going on with them, and it’s been happening before this.” Epel agreed, “I overheard Rook talking to Vil. I’m thinkin’ something went down when the Prefect left Film Club. Not to mention, Vil’s been a real pain in the behind,” he said disdainfully, “He’s been real snappy lately.” Jack shook his head, “I don’t know, I think something else happened. Before (Name) left, I was delivering boxes to the set, and I think I interrupted ‘em or something.” Mentally, he cringed when he remembered that. Talk about being a third wheel, damn.

The warning bell sounded, and the stragglers in the cafeteria stood to get to class on time. Jack crossed his arms, ears twitching. “I have to stop by Film Club later, Vil wanted my help.”

Epel nodded, and as they went their separate ways, Jack thought back to last week.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

A week ago Jack was walking with Vil to the Film Club set. “So, I guess Prefect is gone for good?” Vil’s step faltered, barely noticeable, “I haven’t seen them since,” Vil said in a clipped tone.

“Did they get busy or something? It’s not like them to just leave like that,” Jack commented. Vil frowned, looking frustrated, “I agree. I’ve had to take care of many things for the production. Not to mention, I have to find new actors…”

Jack crossed his arms, “Y’know, I heard a few people were real interested in playing a part. Why not just ask them?” Vil pinched the bridge of his nose, “No one seems to understand. I had a very specific image for this film, and I needed Prefect to-!”

Abruptly Vil sighed, seemingly exasperated. “I’m sorry Jack, I’m not sure what came over me. I just…” Jack noted that Vil didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m just…” Vil seemed to struggle for a word, “frustrated that the Prefect and I didn’t see eye to eye.” Jack rubbed his name, “They were pretty busy when they were doing the production. It was a lot, not to mention all the other stuff they have to do. It’s not easy being Ramshackle Prefect.”

Vil bit his lip, “Well, I suppose it was only natural for them to disagree…” Vil swept his hair over his shoulder, muttering “...even if they were wrong. And I would speak to them, but I don’t think they’d want to see me.”

That was odd, what did he mean by that? Jack was about to question Vil, when the third year nodded to Jack, “I appreciate your help. I should be alright, will you be coming later on?” Jack nodded, deciding leave it at that. “See you later, Vil.”

—•—💜👑💜—•—

Ah, you thought as you shut your book. It’s raining again.

You really didn’t have a reason to continue reading Prejudice and Pride, but you told yourself there wasn’t anything else to do. Even though you did have other books, and finally got a movie player, and a stack of old movies that Sam had given you. You pinched the bridge of your nose. You’d gotten to the part where Darby confessed to Ellis, but you couldn’t stop thinking back to that day. Vil rehearsing lines to you. Telling how much he loved you. Holding your hands, as if he really meant it.

Maybe you wished he meant it. Wait, what?

You quickly shook your head, getting up. Maybe you could watch some movie to clear your head. You glanced over at a box full of books from the attic and the empty bookshelf, and do some cleaning.

Without a second thought, you slid a movie into the player and got to work. You didn’t really bother listening to the movie since you just wanted ambience. You were halfway to stocking the bookshelf when a voice made you drop a book.

“ ‘My my, what have we here?~’ ”

You spun around, squeaking “Vil?!” You were alone. But how…?

“ ‘I was sure you’re little troupe of friends wouldn’t come back. And yet, here you are~’ ”

Your attention snapped to the TV. Vil was in the movie you’d put on? Vaguely, you remembered that Vil once mentioned he’d been in a spy movie. Though you could, sadly, see that he was playing the villain. Still, you could tell that even at a young(er) age, he stood out from his protagonist costars. Vil had always had a way of commanding a room, even back then. Even if the room was a movie set, and you were viewing it through a crappy TV set.

You watched as a grainy, but recognizable, Vil moved across the screen. The cameras seemed to love doing close-ups on him, and you could see the technique he put into his acting. It wasn’t just his body movements, you realized in awe. It was his little facial movements, the way his eyes flickered in smugness. The way his mouth quirked up in that attractive smirk.

The movie protagonist shouted at Vil’s character, “How could you do this?! You’re so cruel! You’re a tyrant who doesn’t care about anyone!”

That’s not true. You snorted to yourself and picked the fallen book up. You mused to yourself as you shelved the book, Vil was strict, sure, but it wasn’t like he did things because he didn’t care. You found your eyes wandering back to the TV screen, some emotion blossoming in your chest. Rather, he did things because he cared too much.

You thought back to when you were filming with Vil a few weeks ago. Sure, you didn’t exactly like being stressed out with the production, but some part of you did miss it. You couldn’t exactly put your finger on it though. Or why it hurt when you saw Vil or Rook. You chalked it up to feeling bad about ditching him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to even talk to him, let alone apologize. You tried reading P&P to get your mind off it, but every time you sat down, you thought about Vil being Darby. And then you couldn’t focus.

As you were lost in you thoughts, the movie did a closeup on Vil. Maybe it was because you just hadn’t seen him a while, but you were mesmerized watching him in his element. Or maybe… You sat down on the couch, rubbing your arms, maybe you missed him.

When you first arrived to Night Raven College, you didn’t know anything about this world, much less its celebrities. When the VDC (SDC) rolled around and you became acquainted with Vil, you didn’t know who he was. Maybe that was why you eventually came to respect him, even if you didn’t always agree with him. You weren’t fully blinded by the stardom, but somehow you could understand why his fans liked him, without having to watch all his movies and interviews. You hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but eventually, you started to like him, definitely not in a fan way. And it freaked you out, but you tried to keep your crush-crush in check. After all, it wasn’t weird to have a celebrity crush. Even if you had a micro crush on your friend, who happened to be a celebrity.

You kept it under wraps, to the point where you didn’t really flinch when he interacted with you. So when he asked you to help with Film Club, you thought you would be just fine. Your crush had faded, and that was that. Or so you thought. And then that day happened, and you were back to being confused again.

You took a shaky breath, realization filling your core as you watched Vil move across the TV screen, laughing at the protagonist. Oh, great sevens. You still liked Vil. And you brutally told him off. You didn’t even hear him out. You bit your lip as Vil’s character was kicked down by the protagonist, a villain defeated. What have you done?

—•—💜👑💜—•—

Epel didn’t always like Vil’s lessons, but now he was sorta glad he had them.

It wasn’t always easy dealing with the endless etiquette lessons, but the physical lessons were alright. Especially when the endurance and grace lessons came in handy to sneak around. Epel may not have been Rook, but he could sneak easily around the dorm when he wanted to. Especially now.

It was starting to get late, and Epel was tiptoeing to the Pomefiore kitchens to sneak in a little snack. Vil usually went to bed earlier for “his beauty rest,” and usually Rook wouldn’t trouble him. As Epel closed the fridge door, triumphantly holding his contraband goodies (some beef jerky and a bottle of Harveston’s finest apple juice), he was startled to hear voices from the dorm laboratories.

“-so utterly ridiculous. The nerve! After I put together the whole production!”

Vil was still awake? Epel ducked behind a large plant and peeked through the foliage. Vil was in his dorm uniform (improperly dressed for lab, Epel noted), goggles on his face, dorm crown crooked, and hunched over the workbench as he mashed something angrily with a mortar and pestle looking frazzled. Rook, meanwhile, was properly dressed for lab, in his lab coat and goggles, shaking his head. “I see, Roi du Poison. Such a shame they quit, the film would have been magnifique with your combined beauties!~”

Vil huffed, tossing his bangs over his head. “The Prefect worked just as hard as I did for this film! Surely they cared about it? And after all that time working together with me, I thought- I thought they’d at least see it through!” Vil gave the pestle one last smash! and promptly dumped the contents into the bubbling caldron. Whatever was inside it hissed loudly and began spewing green fumes, and Rook took off his hat to fan it away from their faces. Vil turned back to his workbench, frowning at his potions book.

“I don’t understand.” Vil angrily stirred the cauldron, his gaze so burning it could boil the mixture. “Couldn’t the Prefect see that I only had their best intentions with this production?! And I was willing to work with them, despite them having no experience with film!”

Epel suddenly wondered if Vil was talking about the film, or himself. Rook was quiet for a moment, and quietly said, “Mon Roi, I believe you’ve pushed them too much.” Vil stopped stirring, but didn’t turn to Rook. He continued, “the Tricksteur’s beauty is not rooted in what they could be, but what they are. After all, that is what drew you to them, was it not?”

Epel’s eyes widened, and he stumbled a bit after being hunched down. The leaves on the plant rustled, but it seemed that Vil didn’t notice, lost in thought. Rook’s eyes darted in Epel’s direction, and he stiffened. Vil stammered out distractedly, “Yes, well, I- hmm…” He looked troubled at Rook’s words.

Rook took the stirring stick from Vil gingerly, “Vil, you should go to bed. You will need your beauty rest for the day ahead!” Vil sighed, shucking off his goggles and taking the dorm crown off his head, “You’re right, Rook. Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Epel scrambled back towards the wall as Vil passed him, purple dorm sleeves brushing the plant. He heard Vil mumbling to himself, “the Prefect… maybe I should…?... No…”

Epel sighed in relief, and was about to sneak off when Rook’s shadow loomed over him. “Monsieur Pommette, how lovely to see you.”

Epel yelped, hiding his snacks behind his back even though it didn’t matter now. Rook towered over him. “I presume you overheard us, oui?” Epel scrambled up, trying to compose himself. “Y-yes, Vice Housewarden.” Epel sighed, here comes the punishment- “Then perhaps you could speak to the Prefect?” Rook asked, a hand on his hip.

Epel’s eyes widened as Rook continued, “I believe there has been some misunderstandings between our Roi du Poison and our dear Tricksteur. Perhaps you’d be willing to investigate?” Epel already was interested in this, (if only to cheer you up), but Rook sweetened the deal. “I can get you out of that etiquette dinner you’ve been so dreading?” Epel grinned and nodded, “Deal!”

Rook sighed, but looked pleased. “Ah, to choose missing a meal of beauté… but such is what we give up for friendship.”

—•—💜👑💜—•—

“Alright Prefect, see ya later,” Epel waved as you left the cafeteria early with Grim. You wanted to catch Professor Crewel before homeroom to ask him about an Alchemy assignment, and Jack and Epel were only too happy to see you off. Once Ace and Deuce headed off too, the two of them got to work debriefing (gossiping).

After a few minutes, they were done. “... so that’s what I heard from Rook,” Epel finished. Jack’s brow furrowed, “Sounds kinda like the Prefect and Vil don’t really know how to deal with each other.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in thought. His ears twitched, “Y’know, Vil wants my help with fixing one of the light beams on set tomorrow morning. It’ll just be me and him…” Epel’s eyes widened, and a small grin grew on his face, “an’ Prefect said they’d be waking up early anyway to finish an Alchemy assignment.”

Understanding passed between the two of them, smirking.

—•—💜👑💜—•—

Turns out, it’s actually pretty hard to get you out of Ramshackle when you’ve already locked in for Alchemy.

“Epel, I’m almost done. What could you possibly want?!” Your friend was already dragging you by the wrists out the door, spewing a few Harveston-flavored phrases you couldn’t quite make out. “Y’aint gonna stop m’fr nothin!”

“I promise, Prefect, just follow me-” Epel grabbed your wrist and began pulling you. For a small guy, he had a lot of strength. “Dude, calm down. I’m coming- wait, Epel-!”

Instead of taking you to the library, Epel dragged you to towards Main Street, where Vil had the production set up. “Epel, where are we going?! I’m not done with Alchemy!” Epel grunted, “Yer jus’ gonna have ta trust me!” Dammit Prefect, he was halfway to tossing you over his shoulder and hauling you to the set like a sack of potatoes.

You soon relented though, feeling as if Epel would tear your arm out of its socket if you struggled any more. “Fine…”

Meanwhile, Jack was running out of things to stall Vil with. Vil tapped his foot, arms crossed and frowning slightly, “Well? I believe that takes care of everything, Jack. I’d like to get back to the dorms.” Jack flinched, “Ah…”

Jack’s ears twitched as he heard you and Epel squabbling in the distance. “So Vil!” Jack moved, keeping Vil’s attention on him so Vil’s back was to the path. He rubbed the back of his neck, “You remember when you said you wanted to talk to Prefect about what happened?” Vil rose an eyebrow, immediately suspicious, “Yes…?”

“Uh- well…” Jack cleared his throat, looking over Vil’s shoulder. “Looks like you’re gonna have to face it sooner and not later.”

“What?” Vil’s eyes widened. You struggled against Epel’s hold, his hand still tight on your wrist. You narrowed your eyes at Vil’s back. “Epel, why…?” At your voice, Vil spun around, and panic flashed on his face. There you were, the rosy dawn light washing over you, better than any stage lighting could ever hope for. “Vil,” you said, swallowing thickly.

“We oughta leave you two,” Jack said abruptly, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Epel nodded, “R-right!” Soon, it was just you and Vil.

You looked away, feeling too nervous to look at him. “Vil, I…” He quietly cut you off, tone gentle. “Prefect, would you walk with me?” You looked up at him quizzically, and nodded. He lead you out of the set, to a nearby bench outside. You gazed out at the rising sun, breathing in the chilly air. You tried again, guilt eating at you, “I’m sorry for what happened that day.” You bit your lip, looking at the ground and away from Vil, “I said a lot of hurtful things to you. I know you didn’t mean it like that but…”

“No, (Name). You were right to be upset.” Your breath hitched, and you turned to Vil. He was looking at you with a soft, almost… mournful look. “I… also said some things I shouldn’t have. And I…” he took a deep breath, “I didn’t realize at the time how overworked you were. I never meant to put that kind of stress on you, I just… I wanted to push you to be the best. But I never wanted to change you.”

Your eyes widened. You never thought you’d get a genuine apology, let alone from Vil, but you could see that he meant it. You were stunned, but Vil took your silence to mean that you were angry at him still. He rushed out, “N-not that it’s an excuse. How I behaved was…” Vil trailed off, and you could feel the tension leave you.

“And,” Vil said softly, “I suppose I wanted to play a role that wasn’t the villain. And this role… was the best way to do that.” He laughed humorlessly, “I guess, in trying to not be the villain, I became just that to you. For that, I…” Vil took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, Prefect. Truly. And I understand if you… don’t wish to see me again.”

Your eyes widened, and Vil looked away. You gently touched his hand, “Vil, at first I was kind of mad about how much work I had to do…” You saw him purse his lips, but you continued, “But I’m not mad at you, Vil. And I’d be really hurt if I didn’t see you again.”

Vil’s eyes seemed to shine at your words, “I also confess that I’ve tried to separate myself from the thought of you, but I’m afraid it’s done quite the opposite. Prefect, I truly meant everything I said that day.” His gaze was soft but nervous, “You truly have bewitched me body and soul. And I suppose I’m asking for your heart,” he said, looking away.

You breathed out a laugh, inching closer to him. You gently put your fingertips to his jaw, turning his face towards yours, “Don’t worry,” you smiled, eyes shining, “it’s already yours.” Vil’s smile mirrored yours, and slowly he closed the gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and the two of you shifted around on the bench. Vil’s arm went around your waist, and his hand rested beneath your jaw holding you in place. One of your hands drifted down towards his collarbone, over Vil’s heart. After what felt like forever, you pulled away, smiling so widely it felt like you’d never stop. You and Vil locked eyes, and you both chuckled breathlessly.

Epel fist pumped quietly behind the tress, “Finally! Took ‘em long enough.” Jack beamed, tail wagging wildly. “Glad to see they’re back to normal.” Epel grinned, “maybe now, Vil’s gonna be distracted n’ I can-”

Jack suddenly straighted up, feeling a chill down his back. “Uh, Epel-”

At that moment, Rook landed from the trees behind them, clapping his hands on their shoulders. “Ah, what a miracle love is~!” Jack jumped, ears and tail standing straight up. Epel let out a small shriek, heart beating wildly. Rook smiled obliviously, “You should be proud of the part you’ve played!” He sighed happily, watching the two of you like you were a stage opera, “Truly magnifique~”

You giggled into Vil’s shoulder, “do they know that we know they’re there?” Vil hummed, nuzzling his cheek against your head, “Rook will deal with them.” You sighed blissfully, deciding not to deal with that and instead bask with Vil in the setting sunlight, your head on his shoulder. In that moment, his perfume had never smelled sweeter.

~END

*smacks fic* this oneshot can fit so much overthinking in it

But seriously, thank you all so much for your support and patience!! I’m glad people still like this series lmao. Hope you liked the fic 😄 take care shrimpies~

Taglist: @cerisescherries , @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @sad-sie, @moyo5653

(If your user is bolded, I wasn’t able to properly tag you 😅)

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 2 years ago

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Our Flag Means Death season 2 shot a crucial scene in the Avatar 2 tank

A behind-the-scenes look at how Taika Waititi and Rhys Darby shot their big merman moment

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death, Season 2, Episodes 3]

Season 2 of David Jenkins’ pirate comedy-romance-drama Our Flag Means Death has finally premiered on Max, with an opening three-episode arc that’s guaranteed to get the series’ fandom buzzing. The third episode in particular ends with a sequence that feels like it was intentionally crafted to inspire the crowds of fan artists who have turned the series into an obsession. Polygon talked to the series’ VFX supervisor, David Van Dyke, about what went into shooting that sequence — and how James Cameron’s Avatar: The Way of Water helped out.

At the end of episode 3, Ed “Blackbeard” Teach (Taika Waititi) is in limbo after being assaulted and nearly killed by his crew. There, he meets his former captain Benjamin Hornigold (another of the series’ historical pirate characters, played by Mark Mitchinson), who tries to help him through his emotional crisis over being abandoned by Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby). Except Hornigold mostly helps by pointing out Blackbeard’s failings, then tying a stone to his waist and throwing him off a cliff into the sea — where he sees a vision of Stede as a fish-tailed merman, coming to save him.

“Just so you know, Rhys and Taika did very well underwater,” Van Dyke told Polygon about shooting the scene. “Rhys is not an Olympic synchronized swimmer, but he’s a strong swimmer. They were both very comfortable underwater. They both did a really good job of being mermen.”

Van Dyke says he was originally asked whether he could do the scene with CG versions of the two men, for safety reasons. He explained that it was possible, “but that’ll cost millions and millions of dollars, and we don’t really have that.”

Instead, he ended up shooting the scene practically. Season 1 of Our Flag Means Death was shot on a soundstage in Los Angeles, but for season 2, production moved to New Zealand. That gave Van Dyke a lot of advantages in terms of shooting natural backdrops to use on the production’s giant virtual environment screen, and in using experienced crews from past special-effects-heavy productions, from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies to James Cameron’s Avatar movies.

“There were definitely a few pieces that were serendipitously to our advantage,” Van Dyke says. “New Zealand was where they shot a lot of Avatar stuff, and there just so happens to be an enormous tank on the lot. There are a bunch of Avatar crew who are SCUBA certified, because they’ve been shooting in that tank forever. This was not something we had to figure out — we didn’t have to send a bunch of grips and lighting technicians off to SCUBA school. So they were there, they had really amazing underwater photography teams, and obviously a really good stunt team that was able to train up Taika and Rhys to make sure the scene was working.”

Van Dyke points to New Zealand’s thriving mermaid freediving community as a boon when it came to designing Darby’s merman outfit. “There are a lot of incredible mer-tails out there,” he said. “We were able to take those, and [costume designer Gypsy Taylor] and her team brought them together to make these beautiful physical pieces, so Rhys was able to actually sell it and do the performance underwater.”

For Van Dyke, the sequence really started with the cliff-jump sequence, which actually used considerably more CG than the underwater shots. “That cliff sequence was a great culmination of effects, merging physical photography and our LED wall, because you can’t really put those two guys on a thousand-foot cliff,” he said. “The insurance alone would be out of control. Also, we’re not really in the business of having people fall to their deaths.”

The cliff sequence began with sequences shot off New Zealand’s Bethells Beach, using drones to capture images looking inward from the ocean and photogrammetry of a specific ledge for production designer Ra Vincent and the art department to reproduce in the studio.

“The wide shots use production plates of those cliffs, and the tighter shots use photography we shot specifically to build out the stitching of the cliff sequence,” Van Dyke said. “Hornigold and Blackbeard are standing on a cliff set. We tied in drone plates of the actual cliffs so we can see the ocean and really set up how terrifying [the drop would be]. Then he falls into the ocean, falls into our tank.”

Once Waititi was in the tank, the next step was the shot where the stone tied to a rope around his waist pulls him deep underwater. That part of the scene required more conventional, practical production trickery than the rest of the sequence.

“The tank is massive, but it’s not 300 feet deep. It’s pretty darn big, but it’s never big enough, as they say,” Van Dyke says. “So when Taika is being tugged by the rock, we actually shot that sideways. By turning the camera sideways, you get more length to the shot. The problem is the bubbles — they should be streaming off him and then rising to the surface, but if you’re going sideways, they’re going to come off him and then go up, perpendicular to him. So we took over with CG to make sure our bubbles were traveling toward where the surface was supposed to be.”

The CG in the underwater sequence was mostly used to hide the lighting and rigging necessary to shoot it, Van Dyke says. “Anytime you’re shooting anything underwater, there’s gonna be a lot of gear. There’s no way you can get around that. So we’re making sure we have [convincing deep-sea] lighting and the bubbles. And then there’s his performance — that’s a real performance.”

For Van Dyke, the real complication was the costuming and makeup for both Darby and Waititi. “Taika’s wig — I was amazed that thing stayed on so long. It’s a long shoot. He was shooting all day, all weekend. But things stayed on. It’s a heavy weight. And Rhys is really working underwater, so his tail has to be working, so it all feels seamless.”

The shot in the underwater sequence that seems most likely to be a CG creation has both men just floating deep in the sea, facing each other above a seemingly endless abyss. Again, Van Dyke says, he used very little CG for that shot, and it was mostly to hide the tank walls.

“In that case, we were not shooting sideways,” he said. “It’s essentially a locked shot. It was about getting them at the right depth underwater, and making sure the shafts of light above them were working properly. We don’t have to track as much, we don’t have all these moving elements, we don’t have to worry about where the bubbles are going. That one was really just about cleaning up the tank, doctoring out the sides of the shot, where we can see the water receding into blackness, then giving the base of the tank true depth, so it really feels like they’re suspended a hundred feet below the surface.

“Obviously, a fair amount of CGI and visual effects had to go into it. But at the same time, it was a moment where we really needed to let the story take over, and have the visual effects just get out of the way, man.”

The first three episodes of Our Flag Means Death season 2 are now streaming on Max.

Source: Polygon

#rhys darby #taika waititi #behind the scenes #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd bts

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writers-hes · 2 years ago

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Borrowed Time

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)

Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.

AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

LONDON, 1921

Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?

“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was.

“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”

“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”

“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”

“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists.

Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you?

“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”

You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him.

“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,”

“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”

“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”

“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”

“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”

“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.

“Tommy…”

“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”

“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.

“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“

“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,”

“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“

“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”

“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids.

“Sorry,”

“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”

“Tommy—“

“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”

He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.

“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he.

“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”

“I do,” he replied.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

He hums.

“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”

Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours.

The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe.

“Where did you go?”

“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue.

“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”

You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.

“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”

“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”

“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”

“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life.

“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”

“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”

“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”

“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”

“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Poll—“

“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”

“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”

“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”

Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you.

“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”

“Alright,”

“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”

“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—

“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”

“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright.

“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched.

“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”

“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”

“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,”

“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”

“But miss—“

“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched.

“Miss—“

“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”

“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.

“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”

“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”

You shuddered, pushing him away.

“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”

“I’m just taking back what I gave you,”

“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”

A slap echoes in the halls.

“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”

He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him.

What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again?

Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”

Right.

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”

You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband.

“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?

“I—I…”

“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it.

Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun.

When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking.

Maybe you'll be free another time.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,”

“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”

“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”

“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,”

“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”

“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,”

“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”

Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits.

“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.

“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”

“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”

“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”

You stand up to leave but he pushes you down.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.” He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side.

“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”

You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.

“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?

Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you.

“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”

David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him.

“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“

“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods.

“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”

“What about the driver that brought her to me?”

“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand. “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”

“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.

“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”

“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits.

“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”

“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary.

“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,”

Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference?

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly.

“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”

Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.

“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”

“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”

Simon pinches his nose.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”

“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?”

“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you.

“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right.

You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all.

Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.

“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.”

“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way.

“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him.

“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”

“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”

“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.

“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.

“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”

You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you.

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.

“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands.

“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”

“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved.

“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”

“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“

The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.

A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection?

You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you.

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”

“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”

“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”

“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”

“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.

“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed.

“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”

Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place.

The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free.

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you.

You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself.

You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?

You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free.

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme @liter4ti @quixscentsposts @homosexualjohnwayne @charli123456789 @Maria_elizabeth21

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #hurt/comfort #thomas shelby ansgt

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meddling-in-horror · 2 years ago

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Giving Them the Moment: How Our Flag Means Death and it's Portrayal of Black Men is the Most Important Thing on Television Right Now

Note: written April 20, 2022

Media is an incredibly distinct way of communicating. It has a wide reach, and each person has their own interpretation of what they see. That’s the beauty of the medium as a whole. However, there are often downsides, especially when it pertains to the West. In the US in particular, there is a trend within popular media to lean towards propagandization. Whether it’s the idea that communism and socialism are products of the ‘Evil East’ or the lingering effects of the Motion Picture Production Code - also known as the Hays Code, the media monopolies have a firm grasp on what we as a society watch and enjoy.

When you begin to play close attention to how the media portrays Black men, this becomes abundantly clear.

It is a rare thing when we see Black men whose characters aren’t portrayed as being the object nor the perpetrators of violence. In fact, only one mainstream popular show comes to mind: The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. But even then, the given circumstances of Fresh Prince revolve around Will’s escape from the violence of the ‘urban’ inner city. This vilification of Black men dates back to the 1910s with D. W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation, and continued into the 1930s, where Black people were often personified as the monsters, representing the ‘exciticism’ of the world beyond the West. It is the ‘exoticism’ that has played a huge part in the dehumanization of Black men as a whole. But as a Black Queer person watching Our Flag Means Death, it is breaking that mold in an incredibly important way.

The Black men in the show are allowed to have fun.

This show is breaking barriers left and right. Of the major recurring cast of 15, over half of them are people of color. It’s overt and unflinching portrayal of Queerness when so many of its older viewers - myself included - have lived through the Bury Your Gays and Dead Lesbians tropes time and time again is overwhelmingly refreshing. Nearly all characters are Queer until proven straight and represent all parts under the umbrella, including Leslie Jones’ polyamorous pirate queen and Vico Ortiz - a non-binary actor - playing a non-binary character.

But in a world where the narratives of Black men are so often framed around violence and brutality, the Black crewmates of the Queen Anne’s Revenge - Frenchie, Oluwande, and Roach - are allowed to be funny and vulnerable. Each one of them is starkly different from the other with identifiable characteristics that allow the audience to humanize them. The trio quickly became my favorites among the crew, with Roach being the stand-out amongst them. Samba Schutte’s often deadpan delivery never fails to draw a laugh from me, in particular the assertion that “meat is meat”. Frenchie, played by Joel Fry, is the quickest on the draw where his intellect is concerned, being posited in the show’s fifth episode as having had a hand in inventing the pyramid scheme while spouting the wildest of conspiracy theories and being afraid of cats (they’re witches, they steal your breath, and have knives in their feet, you know). The softness and constant vulnerability of Samson Kayo’s Oluwande may be one of the most important aspects of the show, as it establishes him as a reliable and trustworthy confidante to not just Jim, but to Rhys Darby’s Stede Bonnet as well.

They exist in their own separate spheres on the ship, going about their own separate business completely unbothered. While it is implied they lead violent lives as pirates, this violence isn’t used to define them as characters. In fact, Oluwande stated that both he and Jim engaged in piracy because they “had no choice”. The brief mention we get of Frenchie’s backstory implies that he lives a life of servitude, though whether that was as an enslaved person or a freed Black domestic worker is not mentioned. While there is little known about Roach so far, it is implied that his culinary skills are far beyond the levels of what is needed aboard a pirate ship.

The friendships and relationships they form within the crew aren’t built on violence either, but on open and honest communication. Most notably, the friendship of Frenchie and Wee John Feeny, played by Kristian Nairn. Fry and Nairn are an impeccable comic duo when their characters become ‘room people’, and the scene where they begin to design their new space is a personal highlight of the episode. Oluwande and Jim’s romance - played to perfection by Kayo and Ortiz - is one that revolves around both characters being almost devastatingly open with each other. Both actors play the emotional vulnerability of the characters well, and it is important to emphasize that it is Kayo’s Oluwande that moves to meet Jim where they are.

While the show allows all its men to show varying levels of emotional vulnerability - an exception being offered to the emotionally constipated Izzy Hands, played by Con O’Neill - there is something so special about seeing that luxury afforded to Black men. This show has, in just ten episodes, has become a game changer for the television industry. It has proved that a show with explicitly Queer characters can become a massive sleeper hit, and that sometimes the best kind of historical show is one that is historical fiction. But it has also proved that you can create a narrative with Black men that doesn’t include their stories being framed in violence or brutality, that they can be funny, charming, witty, vulnerable, intelligent, complex characters with their own narratives that serve a purpose outside of a device of exoticism. It is this rare thing that makes these characters, and indeed the show as a whole, so important to its viewers.

We deserve more vulnerability, more humor, and more humanizing content from these three men, and this show is one that is truly deserving of a glorious second season.

Sources:

Donaldson, Leigh. “When the media misrepresents Black men, the effects are felt in the real world.”

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/aug/12/media-misrepresents-black-men-effects-felt-real-world.

Kumah-Abiwu, Felix. “Media Gatekeeping and Portrayal of Black Men in America.”

Opportunity Agenda. “Media Portrayals and Black Male Outcomes.”

https://www.opportunityagenda.org/explore/resources-publications/media-representation-impact-black-men/media-portrayals.

Our Flag Means Death, (2022-). HBO Max.

#not horror but its relevant #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #roach #frenchie #oluwande boodhari #david jenkins #black men in media #let black men be silly in things!!!!!!#our flag means death season 2

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delilahcalicocat · 1 year ago

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Can i request an AEW Hook x reader fic where reader got pregnant with his baby and she broke up with him without telling him that she was pregnant. Reader returns to AEW 1 year later for Taz's birthday and she brings the baby with her but she tries to hide the baby from Hook. Hook finds out the truth somehow

A/N: Ofc!!! Honestly I made it half-angst half-fluff :) and reader had twins in this I guess-

♡~Wha- How...~☆

{Ratin: Fluff and Angst}

{Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Pregnancy/Birth.}

{Pairing: HOOK/Tyler x Fem!Reader}

You and Hook had dated for sometime, until the night you'd caught him with your own friend in your bed..

A little while after that, you two made up. Until Hook splashed the cold water and said he wanted to break up with you..

You were a mess after that day, watching him move out of your house... the tears mixed with your eyeliner.. the stains on your cheeks for the rest of the day.

You both wrestled for AEW, so what was wrong.. Did He move on?

You didn't know. But you couldn't care because you never told Hook about the secret, you wanted to tell him. But then he broke up with you-

Next thing you know. It's been a few months and you wish you could wrestle, but you had two little Demon spawns crawl into the world a month ago. So you were on the shelf.

But while said spawns were asleep, you flicked through channels on the TV. Knowing if you even wink. Those demons would cry.

So you tried your best to stay awake, but failed majorly. You ended up asleep in 30 minutes probably for not sleeping for almost 2 weeks straight because of your kids.

You eventually recovered, and you were ready to wrestle again. But- you had to travel with your son, since your mom had forgotten to get him out of the car seat from your trip to the shop, so while your daughter Arianna slept soundly in her cradle. You had to deal with Jayson, who was a feisty little mess.

Your jaw dropped when you saw.. Him.

"Fuck- Tyler's coming..." You spoke, hiding your son in your locker room

You heard Hook chatting with Taz, about the birthday plans after the show.. you tried to be as silent as ever so they wouldn't know you and your son were in the locker room

"Alright Dad, I'll see you later- have fun on commentary" Hook spoke as his dad walked off

You on the other hand were still silent, until you left your locker room to go towards the ring.

"Oh! Hey Y/N!" You heard Danhausen say at the worst possible time

"Hi Danhausen!" You said back, trying to act like everything was peaches & cream.

"Hey Y/N-" You froze like a Mouse that was seen by a cat

('FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck') you thought, you were panicked.

"Why do you seem so nervous? Is there something up? Y/N?" He asked

"Oh, I'm just nervous to be back y'know?"

"You sure? Because it seems like your-"

"YES! Fuck! I'm sorry I'm just nervous for my match- I gotta go warm-up." You spat

Quickly you ran off, and handed your son off to your good friend Darby. Since Willow was busy.

"Oh. Hey Darby, what're you doin'?" Hook asked

"Just Watching Y/N's Son-" Darby Said

"Y/N has a son? Wow... I thought she wouldn't have moved on that fast" Hook said

"Dumbass- it's your fucking son. You knocked her up before you left her. So she is a single mother of two." Kenny Omega spoke

"Wha- How-..." Hook looked shocked

After that revelation, he went off to find you. You'd just come back from your match and wanted to go get your son until Hook stopped you.

"Hey Y/N, I found out about Jayson and Arianna" He sighed

"How the fuck did you- why do you- The fuck?!" You spoke quickly.

"Kenny and Darby Told me what happened after our break up." He said

"So? What's the fucking point Tyler? You've probably got some girl waiting for you." You spat

"Actually no. I've stopped my whole streak of cheating, I feel awful that I left you before you could tell me..." He admitted

"Can I actually trust you..?" You asked

"Yes, Y/N I'm sorry.." He said

You both hugged and Hook gave you some time before the big dinner to think...

#aew #aew fanfiction #aew hook fic #hook aew #aew hook x reader #730 hook

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beyo-archives-and-shtuff · 5 months ago

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Things You Don't Say pt 2

Ratchet didn't know what to expect when he stepped though that ground bridge back to Earth. His questions were soon answered though, eyebrows furrowed as his optics looked around the vicinity of what's in front of him. Jack and Miko unsurprisingly were the ones to greet him, which to be fair he had expected, but his worries were still present.

There near the center of Hangar E was a makeshift human sized medical bed where June Darby was standing. Ratchet could've sworn his spark had sunk down to his tank when he saw the young boy he had grown fond of on that very bed, skin as white as snow, eyes dark and sunken in all the wrong ways. Primus, was he still breathing?

He could hear Miko rambling, but he could not bother to comprehend any of it as he rushed forth to the patient. "By the AllSpark what happened?" Ratchet managed to croak out.

June didn't look at him, only stroking the boy's head with one hand while the other held her clipboard. "We've seen this before, haven't we, Doctor?" Ratchet continued to stare at the young boy, he was having difficulty breathing. Ratchet can feel the discomfort Raf was experiencing. "Dark energon" He said, almost wanting himself to be wrong, let it be a human ailment not a Cybertronian one. What went wrong? He had sent Raf away with a clear bill of health! Why now? "I was afraid you'd say that." June said, finally looking at him. "I came to the conclusion that it's like cancer," June paused, thinking of the weight of what she had said, furthermore wondering if Ratchet had any idea what that even is. "There's a chance it can come back, and most o the time, is uncurable." Ratchet closed his optics, helm hung low in thought. He's done this once, he'll do it again, no matter how many times Raf gets sick. He can't lose arguably one of his favorite humans, his friend. Let it be human's delicate mortality, not something foreign that he failed to fully get rid of. Ratchet turned around, going to his old spot in the base, still primed with his medical tools. Dusty, but nothing wiping won't fix. He held a syringe on his servo, looking at it and pausing. Would it work again? "We can try the method that has worked before," he said, gripping the syringe and raising his other arm, preparing to extract his own energon. It is the only logical explanation; dark energon must be expelled by its polar opposite. The lifeblood of Primus, sourced from a Cybertronian. Ratchet began extracting his own energon as he asked June to move Raf to a sealed chamber as he himself prepared to begin infusing it with Raf's. Ratchet gripped the lever, his frame tense. It must work. He thinks as he finally pulled down the lever, the chamber filling with a near blinding illuminating light. Time felt still, as if the gods themselves wanted to taunt them as they watched helplessly, waiting and hoping.

As the light dies down, everyone rushed forward, June and Ratchet taking the lead. "Did it work?" Miko asked, looking over Junes shoulder. Raf is like a little brother to her, seeing him like this would make even her on edge. "It's too early to tell Miko," Jack said, assisting his mother with the examination. "Well, it has to!" was the impatient reply. Raf was stirring, weakly the little boy opened his eyes. He looked tired, like the light had been taken away from his sweet eyes. "Mrs. June?" the little boy said weakly, voice dry. He was still pale, but he was awake. Something the humans were celebrating, a celebration Ratchet didn't partake in. As medical professionals, him and June know this is not the end, as much as he wants to breathe a sigh of relief that raf is safe, alive even, he has to do another examination.

Meanwhile, Raf was trying to look around, but he feels so tired, his head is hurting, and he can feel his temperatures hot as it touched the clothes and sheets wrapped around his body. He wanted to cry, but his fatigue wouldn't let him. He was getting uncomfortable from all the surrounding voices. They were his friends, yes, but right now he just wants for the world to go quiet. He wanted to rest, to stop hurting. His attention moved to the bracelet on his wrist, he misses his guardian. It's only been a few months, but he hasn't seen him since he left. "I miss Bee," he said, holding his wrist where the bracelet was placed. He was scared. What if he doesn't see Bee again? "We know Raf, we miss the others too." a voice said, but Raf couldn't recognize it. "I'm sure you will once you get better though, right, Ratchet?" Raf felt dizzier, his world spinning around, as he felt the growing need to vomit. He could hear something beeping, it annoyed him. He could feel the others moving around him, and he wanted them to stop, he whimpered, feeling sick again.

"Raf?" "Raf?!" "Ratchet?!" This time the voice was louder, Junes. The Cybertronian medic was frozen in place, his monitor blinking, his expression dark. He failed. He failed and he doesn't know why.

"It's not working..." Prev // Next As promised, @psychodelicvv tagging you for pt 2! Sorry if it's in text, I thought it would fit better for this one, albeit my writing skill isn't that good

lmk what you guys think though,,

#tfp #rafael esquivel #ratchet #miko nakadai #june darby #jack darby #things you dont say series #ahahaasfha i am so sorry to everyone who reads this #my writings #archive #personal

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jacethebeltsculptor · 4 months ago

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Outer Wilds Expedition Log #3

Since I've discovered people find these tremendously entertaining, I figured I'd continue journaling my expedition into the Outer Wilds here on Tumblr. Where we last left off, I'd just made my first few runs to Space Florida (Giant's Deep), gave Frog NASA's resident slacker a scathing peer review, found some hints on how quantum objects work and how I might go about locating that ghost moon that allegedly exists. I also had some theories about what happened to the Nomai which didn't pan out that I'll get into in a moment. After my first few runs to Giant's Deep, I discovered that both my spaceship and space suit function as a submersible and diving suit as well. I'm not well-educated enough to know if the physics of that check out or not, but either way, I think I might've not given Outer Wilds engineering team enough credit. This was a game-changer to me, since basically the first thing I did when I booted up the tutorial was throw myself down a geyser in the name of scientific interest. Despite allegedly being aquatic, I drowned pretty quickly, but I noticed evidence of a camp being down there. This, combined with the dude on the moon mentioning that Feldspar's signal was broadcasting from Timber Heath, really piqued my interest. I spent a loop just exploring the geysers as best I could, but the caves didn't seem to lead down to the core of the planet or anything, and once I was down there, I realized Feldspar's signal was coming from somewhere on the surface. I did, however, find old Nomai writing which remarks on observing a nascent aquatic species, which dashes my theories that the Forerunners Nomai evolved into the player's species over millions of years, explaining their disappearance. I managed to do this without drowning, which is a rare show of competence from me. After that, I made me way up to the surface to look into that seed from DARBIS (Darkness and Relative Bramble In Space) that coincidentally seemed to have Feldspar's signal coming from it. Shockingly, it's bigger on the inside. So, gonna have to visit Dark Bramble at some point to figure that one out. Then, I took a nice cozy position on the observation deck to watch the supernova in peace- a lovely, sentimental gesture that I utterly screwed the pooch on due to the planet turning to face the other way. Despite having active investigations going on 2.5 different planets, I decided that I was done being afraid of the sun and decided to check out those two paired planets orbiting it. Once I was there, I noticed something closely orbiting the sun itself, so I decided to be a badass and land on that instead. I failed and got burned to a crisp. On my next loop, I went to visit the Twins. I originally landed on Ash Twin, but after finding nothing of note, I- in my endless foresight and wisdom- decided to just jump to Ember Twin. This led to me to breaking both of my shins and storing my femurs in my lungs, but did not kill me. Immediately, anyway. I started by finding the crashed escape pod below and working my way through the caves, before dying at the entrance to the safe zone by jetpacking my way straight into a cactus and losing the last of my blood. Now, I'm only about halfway through my last play session- you know, the part where nothing gets accomplished- but I'm apparently reaching Tumblr's character limit, so I'm going to have to split this into a whole separate post. Which is probably good, because there should and ought to be a legal limit to how much stupidity should be allowed in one post. Until next time, Tumblrites!

#outer wilds #Outer wilds spoilers #spoilers #the outer wilds

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dilf-in-peril · 1 year ago

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I think Punk's pretty openly saying "yeah, I'm an old man, I can't do all the shit I used to but I'm still fighting." Like he straight up said he doesn't want to go first in the Rumble, because he's too old for that (and he didn't), but you have a lot of people just jump on any chance to put him down as washed and no longer good for anything, as if older men wrestling is perfectly normal and fine in the business. I understand this of course, if you hate someone you're happy to see him fail and suffer and disappear. People give Jericho a lot of shit for moving slower and the weight he put on, while Sting is wrestling in slow motion in a t-shirt but people pop for it because they love him. I laughed at The Rock coming back from Hollywood being out of breath after one move because I didn't want him to be there, so I'm a huge hypocrite, naturally. But sometimes it just makes me sad. We all get older, those performers too, and they can still tell stories despite it or because of it. It's like when Punk came back to AEW and wrestled Darby the whole point of the match was old man experience versus young idiot stamina, but if you're just looking to shit on someone for the crime of growing older, you're not going to be able to enjoy that. Honestly, I don't want to hear "you still got it chants" because some old guy did an awful backflip onto a table and nearly broke all of his bones, I want a match where he's dragging himself back into the ring half dead, because his body is giving up on him but he's still fighting, and I want people to cheer for him when he gets his victory over the guy who can do all the moonsaults, because his spirit is unbroken.

#wrestling

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kayfabe-is-king · 1 month ago

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Honestly, no matter what they did, the main event was going to be a let down. Most of the other matches had deeply emotional undertones to them. Betrayal, hatred, feelings of inadequacy (“why them and not me”), watching someone being exploited by the very same person who stabbed you in the back, brotherhoods turning into bitter enemies and righting the wrong of a person who disrespected a cherished legacy. These are such human and very complex components that had the audience in a chokehold.

There was none of that in the main event. Sure, they tried to inject the Mox/Cope angle with personal undertones. But it fell flat. Going in, I knew Moxley was going to retain. If we’ve learned nothing else from AEW’s short past, it’s that they can drag the fuck out of an angle (almost to the point audiences stop caring). So no matter how much they’ve sucked out any interest from the death riders for me (and yeah I’m gonna stay side eyeing that because the potential for it to be great was literally right there), I knew it wasn’t going to end last night.

And we all know they’re sacrificing quality at this point to the god of All In. That’s when we’ll have the big returns, maybe even character changes (Wheeler finally seeing the light, for instance). They are focused on turning All In into their premiere PPV. I get that, I’ve read and understood the class syllabus.

But the way they chose to keep the belt on Mox was so uninteresting. They could have kept sprinkling breadcrumbs of Wheeler finally opening his eyes by having someone else aid Moxley (*cough* Jack Perry *cough*). They could have used Jay better (sure him causing friendly fire is probably laying the foundation for a shift in his persona but still…). Hell let’s go nuts and have Bryce turn heel. Fuck it, just about anything would have been a better possibility.

And do not even get me started on the Christian of it all. They’ve been building up Moxley as this all encompassing big bad. Do they really expect us to believe the Steve Jobs cosplayer who’s been carrying that beat up contract around like Linus and his security blanket is a serious threat to Moxley’s agenda (and title)? Really?

The only thing that rang true was Swerve. He is just as (if not more dare I say) dangerous and calculating as this version of Moxley they’re hocking. He has the audience in the palm of his hand. He’s the one that can turn a quilting bee into a bloodbath. That man could sit for an hour doing nothing but read a phone book and I’d be on the edge of my seat. If anyone can breathe new life into this storyline, it’s him.

And can you imagine the possibility of this somehow uniting him and Hangman in the cause of dismantling the death riders? Sprinkled in with Darby and Will? Or you know, the EVPs whose company Moxley is “ruining”? So yeah, the only thing that ended up being compelling didn’t even happen during the match.

Look. I love Adam Copeland. I remember his debut in WWE (yeah I just aged myself, shut up) fondly. He still has that charm and overall can believably carry a brutal match. But to shoe horn him into the death riders just to drag the angle into All In? Especially when there was such a build up for Orange Cassidy to lead the charge initially? That’s just a bridge even my lifelong crush Keanu Reeves couldn’t sell me.

I call bullshit on those who say AEW can’t do storytelling well. They have provided us with incredibly complex and nuanced stories over and over again (last night was the brilliant ending to one of them). But sometimes they have a blinding, singular focus on getting an angle to a specific point. No matter how bad the pit stops along the way turn out to be. Revolution was an amazing night of wrestling. It’s just disappointing how much they failed to stick the landing.

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew spoilers #all elite wrestling spoilers #aew revolution #aew revolution spoilers

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in1-nutshell · 11 months ago

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Hi, could you please write in nutshell the reaction of the Autobots and humans to how the Red Cross is trying to be a matchmaker for Agent Fowler and Miss Darby. They remind her so much of Mr. and Mrs. Fowler and in general she thinks they are very suitable for each other.

I have the best idea for this!

In a nutshell...

This is going to go two ways.

1. Red is going to casually mention Fowler's strengths to June casually and vice versa with Fowler.

Maybe dropping some stories about Mr. And Mrs. The Fowler.

Make little cliche dates she saw back in the olden days. And just try and be each other's wing bot.

Or...

2. Red wastes no time and will straight up tell Fowler and June, both privately, to confess already.

Time is too precious to be wasting it away in the what ifs when you know the other feels the same.

If all else fails she will accidentally toss them in a room until they fess up.

Not the most popular idea, but hey it worked out fine when she and Deadloop played matchmaker with some of the nurses and soldiers.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #nutshell summary #red cross

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notgonnaedit · 3 months ago

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Given to Fly

One Shall Rise, Part 1

Summary: Martha "Marty" Thorne was a basic teenager, a little antisocial maybe. But her life changed the day she met the Autobots and joined them in their fight.

Pairing: Optimius x Teen!OFC (Platonic)

Chapter summary: A discovery rattles the team.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Marty's worried, Mama June, (If I miss a tag LMK)

Updates are sporadic. If you want to be tagged LMK

@dreamsight73

Master list

"What's going on?"

Marty barely registered June's question. She was too busy focusing on the fact that Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Arcee just ran through the ground bridge, panicking and with Optimus leaning on them.

"Easy, Optimus," Ratchet instructed. "From the looks of things, you've been exposed to a massive amount of Dark Energon."

The Prime's gaze found Raf sitting on the cot. "I am not the only one."

Marty watched with worried eyes, following them as Optimus sat on the medical berth. He looked down at the injured boy, offering a small smile.

Raf returned it. "Hey."

June glared up at the Prime. "He's lucky to be alive."

Optimus smile changed to an ashamed frown. Marty looked up at her guardian, searching for any injuries. When she didn't find anything, the brunette sighed and slumped against his foot. "Megatron found more of the dark stuff?"

"A volcano full," Arcee answered.

Bulkhead nodded. "The question is, ‘how’?"

"No," Ratchet corrected. "The question is, ‘what?’ As in, ‘what in the world is the blood of Unicron doing here on Earth’?"

"The 'Cons killed a Unicorn?" Miko asked innocently.

This earned her blank stares from the Autobots and a facepalm from Marty.

"White horse with a horn on its head?" The rocker asked. "Prances around all sparkly?"

"Unicron–" Ratchet pronounced, "an ancient evil whose fossilized blood comprises the matter which we call Dark Energon, as legend would have it."

June held her elbow in one hand. "So, you're saying this Unicron is some kind of boogeyman?"

"Boogeyman?" The medic repeated.

"Make-believe creepy guy who hides in your closet," Miko offered.

Ratchet shook his head. "No, Nurse Darby. Unicron is very real – was," he corrected. "That is, well, I do believe he once existed. I just don't subscribe to the theory that his primordial life force is the substance which harmed Raf."

June raised her hands in a no good signal. "I've heard enough." She grabbed the rail on the cot and started to wheel it away. "Jack, please, help me get Raf into the car."

Jack blinked in surprise. "Mom, I thought he was doing better."

Bee buzzed anxiously and confused.

"Raf needs to be examined by real doctors, and Raf's family needs to know what's happened," June stated. "His real family."

"Mom, Raf's family can't protect him, not like they can," Jack told her.

"June–" Optimus stood up shakily, prompting Marty to move, but linger as if she could help him."–it deeply grieves me that I have failed. But I will do everything in my power to ensure that no harm comes to our human friends or any human ever again."

June's shoulders slumped. "Optimus, they're children. They do not belong in your world. They should be worrying about grades, prom dates, pimples. Not their own survival!"

"Miss Darby," Marty started, "Dark Energon is pouring out of the earth. It doesn't do that. This could be about everyone's survival, not just ours."

But she didn't waiver. "You're coming with me, all four of you, and they will not be coming back."

Instead of protesting or evening trying to meet a middle ground, Optimus merely said, "I understand."

"That's it??" Marty ran up to her guardian, craning her neck to look up at him. "After all we've been through together? ‘See ya’? What about our freedom to choose?"

"That may fly on their planet but not here on Earth," June said as she helped Raf get into her car. She looked at the teens, her mother's glare showing. "Get in."

"Do you really expect me to ride in a non-transforming vehicle?" Miko scoffed.

"Miko, I'm serious."

"You're not my mother."

"Miko," Bulkhead urged.

His ward glared up at him. "Neither are you!"

June looked at Marty, then sighed, "I'm not even gonna try with you." She turned to her son. "Well, I am your mother. Let's go, Jack."

The raven haired boy glanced back at Arcee. She had her arms folded loosely. "She is your mom."

Jack turned back to his mother, blue eyes determined. "I'm staying. I'm sorry."

Surprise over took June's expression, but she quickly replaced it with sternmes. She closed Raf's door and got in the driver's side, starting her car.

"Ratchet, activate the ground bridge," Optimus said.

"No, thank you," June snapped before pulling out.

From the rear window, Raf could be seen watching them as they drove away. Bumblebee followed for a few steps, his door wings sagging.

But there was no time to feel the weight of what just happened, as Fowler's voice broke through the silence. "Prime, do you copy?"

"I hear you, Agent Fowler," Optimus answered.

"Been watching the news? Mother nature's got a twitch in her britches."

"We know about the volcano," the Prime told him.

Marty ran up the stairs and turned on the TV to see what he was talking about.

"And the quakes? Seven major tumblers of the exact same magnitude at the exact same time as a volcanic eruption All over the globe on different tectonic plates, In theory, unrelated, if they hadn't happened–"

"–at the exact same time," Ratchet finished.

"Check it out," Marty said, remote in hand. "More good news."

The TV portrayed images of natural disasters all over the world as a newscaster's voice carried over it. "Freak storms unlike any the region has seen. Tsunamis threaten the Canadian coast while lightning storms pummel the Gobi desert. Meanwhile, electromagnetic anomalies plague urban power grids. These abnormal global phenomena are leaving most to wonder why now and what next."

"Don't tell me your 'Cons have built a weather machine," Fowler huffed.

"One that powerful?" Ratchet asked. "Highly unlikely."

Optimus furrowed his brow. "I do not believe the appearance of Dark Energon at this point in time to be coincidental."

Bee buzzed aggressively before transforming and driving out.

"Uh, what was that?" Jack asked.

"Bee said he's going to get Raf," Arcee translated.

)()()()()(

It wasn't long before Bee rolled back into base, Raf and June in tow. The boy stepped out and gave a half smile. "Uh, we're back."

"And we are glad," Ratchet told him.

Jack ran up to his mother as Bee transformed. "Are you all right?"

"I will be." June frowned. "Jack–"

"Mom, I–"

"I know. Me too." She pulled him into a hug. "But you're grounded till you're 30."

Jack looked at her in disbelief when he pulled away.

"25," the nurse conceded.

Marty would have been amused at the scene, but the impending doom playing on the TV took her attention.

"World leaders are classifying these bizarre weather patterns as a global emergency," the newscaster said.

"Global?" June asked as she ran up the stairs.

"And scientists believe the phenomena to be somehow related to the current planetary alignment."

The lift door opened and out walked Agent Fowler. "What have you learned, Prime? And you better not blow smoke up my oven." He froze when he saw a certain nurse, probably regretting his choice of words. "Ms. Darby. What a nice surprise."

June smirked. "Special Agent Fowler."

Marty found herself smirking as well.

"We have learned this–" Ratchet started, eyes on the screen. "–as with the so-called magma from the volcano, these earthquakes originated far below the Earth's crust, from the very center of the Earth's core, in fact."

"Quakes don't start there. Do they?" Fowler asked.

"Tiny tremors rising and failing in a consistent pattern, almost like..." Ratchet trailed off as he looked at the data points. His eyes widened. "By the Allspark! If I convert these data points to audio files...'

"What? What is it?" Fowler demanded.

"Well, listen." Ratchet's voice was soft.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

The worry crease in Marty's brow became deeper. "A Cybertronian heartbeat?"

"How is that possible?" June asked, rubbing her arms. "A heart pumps blood. There's nothing inside the earth to pump except–"

Raf sat up. "–Blood of Unicron."

"Okay, hold on." Miko held her hands on in a time out motion. "You mean something's living down there inside our planet??"

"I fear that the Earth's very core is not comprised of magma as your science has suggested, but of Dark Energon," Optimus said.

"And if we're hearing a spark," Ratchet added, "then Unicron is the rising darkness that the prophecy foretold."

"So, how do we stop this thing from rising?" Fowler asked.

Optimus shook his head. "That, I am afraid, was not foretold."

"How can something be in our Earth's core and be alive?" June questioned.

The Prime hummed. "Such a thing is not unprecedented. Before the beginning, there was Primus, and there was Unicron. One, the incarnation of creation the other of destruction. For aeons, Primus and Unicron battled the balance of power shifting between them more times than could be counted. Only by creating the 13 – the original Primes who preceded me – was Primus finally able to defeat Unicron and cast him out. Primus became one with the very core of our planet, creating life through the Well of Allsparks, while Unicron was never to be heard from again until now."

Marty furrowed her brow, her mind whirring with how Unicron could be in the Earth.

"Maybe we can find the hole this Uber-'Con left when he dug himself all the way down there and fill it full of explosives," Fowler suggested aggressively.

"First of all: that would cause massive problems," Marty said, speaking up for the first time in a while. "And second: I don't think Unicron came to Earth. With his mass, he could probably create his own gravitational field. Random asteroids probably got caught in his field and formed Earth around him."

Marty stopped once she realized what this meant. "That means Unicron is Earth's core. And he's only awakening now due to the magnetic pull created by the planetary alignment."

Miko elbowed her lightly, whispering, "You gotta let me copy off you for physics class."

"Okay, well, what happens now when Unicron wakes up from his billion-year nap?" Jack asked.

Miko nodded. "Yeah, does he stretch and kapow! Earth poufs to dust?"

Marty looked at Optimus, searching for an answer in his expression. But all she found was uncertainty.

"You don't know, do you?" She asked.

The Prime looked away, seemingly ashamed that his ward was correct. "My guess is that Unicron has transcended physical form as we know it," he said. "Nonetheless, we must find a way to ensure that this force of nature never fully awakens. The fate of your planet depends upon it."

"Optimus, what are we going to do?" Ratchet asked.

The Prime's expression changed to when he was going to say something serious –more serious than usual.

"With Unicron's awakening immenint, the only logical course of action would be for me to scout an area with heavy quakes."

Marty stared up at him. "Optimus, you can't be serious. Going in alone to fight a god?? At least take Arcee or Bulkhead!" Her voice held more emotion than she anticipated.

Optimus looked at her and his expression softened. "I am the last of the Primes, therefore the only one who can stand a chance against Unicron." His tone said there was no arguing with him, but that he understood her worry.

"Your concern is warranted, Little One," he continued, "But trust that I will return unharmed."

)()()()()(

"Ratchet, this epicenter is consistent with the findings of the others," Optimus said through the comms. "Its terrain is rich in ore."

"So, what does that tell us?" Fowler asked.

"It follows that the natural metals in your Earth would be extensions of Unicron," Ratchet explained. "His limbs, if you will."

"So, he did have his morning stretch," June figured, "which is why these quakes happened."

Marty's worry crease was a crevice at this point. It didn't help when the computer system beeped, taunting her.

"Optimus, I'm detecting a swell in Unicron's spark activity," Ratchet warned.

Marty moved to the rail. "Optimus, you need to get out of there."

"Rest assured, Martha," was his reply. "I will proceed with vigilance."

#tfp optimus #optimus prime #tf prime #tfp optimus prime #tfp #transformers prime

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