#tf one spoiler free

[nerdfins]

When I learned Jon Hamm was Sentinel Prime, my brain mashed this fact together with my love of Good Omens.

[ihatebrainstorm]

So I may or may not have gone off the deep end, went a bit bonkers, and edited a bunch of Brainstorm panels so that I could picture what he looked like under the mask during certain scenes

[hercarisntyours]

I apologise in advance for the person I'll become when transformers one releases

[mrowsters]

Sentinel reminds me of Lord Farquad. Specifically the neme

Yea. That's him. Definitely.

[thefirstknife]

Speaking of weird things in the season already, I'm back with the obsession with names of things in the seasonal activity.

So in Riven's Lair, you get randomly assigned "missions" that change with each run. I believe there's five of them as I've played a lot of Riven's Lair so far and only got these five to rotate. Maybe there will be more in weeks to come!

Anyway, if you look in the top left corner when you start the activity, it will tell you the name of the mission you're on. The names that I've seen so far are:

Polysemy

Apophasis

Synchysis

Enthymeme

Tautology

Long post under:

These aren't random words! They're all related to language and rhetoric, which makes sense with the Ahamkara theme as Ahamkara are very dependent on the way language is used around them.

Polysemy is when words or symbols are capable of having multiple meanings. Apophasis is when you speak about something by denying it or mentioning it by saying it's not required to be mentioned (def check examples on wikipedia if this is confusing). Synchysis is also a way of speaking in a way that deliberately messes up the order of words to confuse or surprise the person you're speaking to. Enthymeme is a type of an argument where you construct a sentence which tells some sort of a fact by omitting the way you came to that conclusion because the fact should be obvious on its own (again, check wiki for examples, it will be easier to understand). And tautology has a meaning in both language and logic; in language, a tautology is a statement that repeats something, adding redundant information and in logic, a tautology is a logical formula in which a sentence is constructed in a way that every interpretation of the sentence is true.

I doubt these words were chosen randomly and there might be more or perhaps more will cycle in during weeks to come. But even with just this, there's a pattern. I'm not sure which meaning of tautology is being used here; possibly the language one because it fits the rest, but the logic interpretation could also be possible.

The first week's mission was also specifically Polysemy:

I assume next weeks we'll probably do other specific ones in some order, which would also mean there should be at least 2 more. I'm wondering if there's some sort of a reason why these specific words were chosen. Obviously they all relate to forms of speaking and language which is the primary way that Ahamkara use to affect reality; speaking in specific terminology and using particular phrases and language forms is important to them and when speaking to them.

But given the involvement of the Vex, it also reminded me of the lore book Aspect in which every chapter is named after grammatical, linguistic and logic terms. Aspect is also specifically related to the Black Garden and Sol Divisive. Not only that, but Aspect deals with, among other things, the fate of the Ishtar scientists and their copies in the Vex Network, and primarily uses Chioma as their main viewpoint, and the whole situation with Neomuna and Veil Logs has returned my interest in this lore book.

I feel like it isn't a coincidence that we've spent essentially the entire year reacquainting ourselves with Chioma and Maya and Ishtar as a whole only to bring back Sol Divisive and the Black Garden back in the final season in this way. As the Veil Logs told us, one of Maya's copies interfered with one of the logs, sending signals, and Chioma, at the end of her life, contacted the Vex presumably to be consumed by the network so she could possibly reunite with one of the copies of Maya in there.

This brought me also to the mysterious signal from Scatter Signal lore tab in which Osiris tracks down some sort of a signal that seems to be talking about the Vex, but spoken in a strange way. So I began thinking that this signal might be coming from Chioma, consumed by the Vex, from the Vex Network, reaching out to the man who's been studying her, living in Neomuna and researching the Veil for months. Specifically, the final Veil Log mentioned a few similar words and phrases being repeated. Specifically, when Osiris mentions that Chioma was researching "the entaglement of Light and Dark" and when Nimbus and Osiris discuss "parallel connections and parallel energy fields;" then in the Scatter Signal message there's mention of how, presumably, the Vex are trying to "move from parallel to entanglement." The Veil Log also talks about how the Witness can communicate through our Ghosts and how that connection might be going both ways; Scatter Signal also mentions "bridging communion with a Voice."

Copies of Chioma and the other scientists (with the help of Praedyth) once tried to use the Black Garden to send a message out of the Vex Network, detailed in Aspect. We don't know if they succeeded (at least in our current timeline). The Black Garden has been a big focus in Lightfall almost out of nowhere in such an immensely world-changing way (with the explanation of the Black Heart), and it will still be important this season with the exotic mission. It's a very pleasing loop of the story; everything started with the Black Garden in D1 and everything just before TFS might end with it. I'm also incredibly intrigued by the fact that the returning weapons from Undying (a season about the Sol Divisive and the Black Garden) have returned with a new perk called nano-munitions: very Neomuna-sounding name. Perhaps certain Ishtar scientists are influencing the Vex or extending a helping hand to us.

The questions that remain: how does this tie back to the Ahamkara? Why are the Vex interested in the Ahamkara? What do the Ahamkara have to do with the Black Garden? What's with all the strange language terminology that deals with double meanings and ways to confuse? Is it just regular Ahamkara shenanigans to trick us? To trick the Vex? Maybe both?

The point is, I don't think this is as simple as Riven just being sad that all the Ahamkara are dead and wanting to secure her clutch. Nothing is ever simple with the Ahamkara and nothing is ever simple with the Vex; and now we're dealing with both. And somewhere in all of this, there is also a concerning involvement of the Black Garden that connects to both of these elements. At the end of it all, there's us, who rely on this specific combination of elements to get through the portal, pursue the Witness and save the universe.

Spreading the brain worms to the rest of y'all to think about. If you spot any other mission names, feel free to share, though I think that if they happen, they might happen in the coming weeks. Also as I mentioned before, I know there's been leaks and lore tabs unlocking early on Ishtar: I've not seen any leaks or cutscenes and have not read any lore tabs that aren't explicitly visible in-game so if there's a really simple answer in that leaked material, I don't know about it and don't want to know about it so please don't spoil to me or to others!

[dezmolad]

Transformers One: Decepticons and Autobots

Yesterday I went to see TFOne and while it was overall a fun experience I think it would be also fun to decompose the way this movie portrays soon-to-be 'cons and 'bots.

Beware of the spoilers!

So the society and worldbuilding of Transformers One is clearly inspired by both Alligned continuity (Transformers Prime and such) and IDW2005 G1 continuity (MTMTE, RiD and such) tales about how the world looked like before the war. Of course it was only a inspiration, the liberties has been taken but some specific changes seem... well, as if they feared their source matherial to me.

Making the society divided to classes, the existence of miners is a clear inspiration from the continuities I mentioned. BUT. Making the miners exclusively (from what i observed and checked on tf wiki), besides D-16, future autobots, when in the inspirations the decepticons basically rised up from the mines is something else.

It might be G1 cartoon inspiration, where we learn in one episode that Quintessons constructed autobots as working class (TFOne: miners) and decepticons as warrior class (TFOne: High Guard). But here, melted with IDW and Alligned inspirations it feels as if the creators wanted to kinda make autobots less morally grey that their inspirations intended. The fact that the only "bully" from higher class than miners we ever see being actually piece of shit with a name is Darkwing, who we know as a decepticon also is pretty telling.

Overall I feel like the creators of this movie really wanted to take inspirations from IDW and Alligned continuity but also felt stangely uncomfortable with the implications of those continuities. Of decepticons having a point, of autobots being morally complicated, to put it lightly. It's understandable as it's a mainstream, singular movie that can't be too complicated, but still it feels kinda disappointing to me.

Giving Orion Pax the role we saw Megatron in in inspirations (a poet and an activist in IDW, a politican and a gladiator in Alligned), in the scene where he gives the speech to the miners really hammers it down. We can literally imagine Megatron doing that in universes that gave inspirations to this movie!

If someone knows more about how the creative process around this part of the movie worked I'd be glad to know!

[megatronsimp]

No mechpreg/mpreg for tf one on ao3 yet? Not under my watch! -cackles-

[mpetrohero]

Something something the fact that in the end, Jon’s downfall to his plan came all because he forgot about his lighter. The all-seeing all-knowing conduit of the apocalypse and destined pupil of the eye failed to complete his plan because he forgot. about. his. lighter.

Something something maybe that was another string in Annabelle’s plan. She made Jon a smoker, made his ex girlfriend a smoker, gave him that reminder that he had that lighter so he’d go have a cigarette and she hoped Georgie would join him. Girl. Nah no way.

Something something maybe Georgie knew deep down it would be best for the others to have the lighter. They know Jon. They do. Or maybe it was just coincidence or the pulling of puppet strings.

I’m going to- [GUNSHOTS] [SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE] [LARGE EXPLOSION]

[theperpetualgrouch]

My spoiler free review of transformers one!

Oh where do I even begin?

Transformers: One, first and foremost, manages to achieve something no other Transformers movie (besides Bumblebee, and perhaps a stretch, the ‘86 movie too) has ever done, and that’s adding a whole bunch of heart into it. This movie is clearly a labour of love not only from its director, but everyone else involved in the project too. It’s a movie that introduces new concept and ideas that are simple on paper but work wonders with the characters involved in this story and the setting it takes place in, offering a refreshing insight into Transformers mythology that’s thus far, only been told in scattered fragments across various continuities.

Now that I’ve come down the highs of watching this movie, it’s by no means perfect. There’s flaws in here that are noticeable and may hinder the enjoyment of the movie depending on what your expectations are for it. At some point, I do want to talk about them once this movie is available for everyone to watch. However, the positives this movie does have makes me forgive these flaws and not care about them as much as it should have. I would also add that this movie is definitely a good time for a non-transformers fan, but their enjoyment of it won’t nearly be as intense as someone who’s already a fan of the franchise and has known these characters prior to this film. And that’s okay. For how I currently feel about it, it’s a great movie in of itself. But as a Transformers movie it’s a masterpiece and a huge step in the right direction for this franchise to take.

The movie contains elements and themes that aren’t tackled in mainstream animated movies, especially with how it chooses to explore those themes in terms of character dynamics, and how conflict can occur from the same point of view. This movie has a clear central antagonist, but allows its audience to pick apart everything else with more complexities. Although the ideas presented are simple, the execution of them are what makes them work really well. It’s especially important for this kind of story the movie is telling, where you know how things start and end, and the entire story hinges on the journey.

The animation is gorgeous, it brings Cybertron to life in this film with its stunning visuals. Cybertron itself is like a character in this movie, where so much of the movie is focused on how the planet is being used by its inhabitants. It makes the movie feel more alive than it already is. The same extends towards how the movie uses lighting and visual effects as part of its storytelling too, as well as size composition that play off character designs and what they symbolise effectively. These compliments also extend towards the character designs, where they’ve achieved their goal of being memorable by humanising them enough for the audience to get attached towards, whilst also just being alien enough to make them unique.

The soundtrack of this movie is also phenomenal, many tracks in this movie have been reused from other transformers properties but they’re each utilised for the right emotional beats in the scenes they’re used in. Although I’m not a fan of some choices and usage of music from time to time, the original score this movie does have carves the identity of this movie so beautifully, it adds more personality into it than it already does have. It’s a homage to music used in other transformers media whilst introducing something new into the mix.

The ending of this movie leaves so much potential for new stories to be told. Although a majority of people can already assume the ending, the way it’s wrapped up was done neatly despite the messy conflicts this movie tackles with, which makes me anticipate for what they decide to do in the future.

All in all, this is an excellent, amazing movie that does so much right and as a transformers fan, is near perfect. I’m definitely looking at it with rose tinted glasses at the moment as I’ve just finished watching it, but the hype for it is definitely warranted!

9/10

[nerdfins]

Work in progress accompanied by some Wegmans chocolate cherry decaf coffee. Guess what the joke is going to be?

[sharkinlovewithadolphin]

They are..... beside each other. In matching clothes. In front of a pool. They are Right Where They Belong

[nebulousfishgills]

BROTHER YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME I'M IN DISTRESS

[swervesfirstblaster]

i was so excited for tfe elita-one and i love her but im so disappointed to how they have been treating her with so few appearances and in all of those her focus is: training, talk about training and exercises, give good advices when someone ask for it. thats it.

she deserved to shine more instead of being shadowed by megan and op bc we already saw that she can be a great teacher (and auntie!)

[godhasforsnakenme]

BOOK REVIEW 📖

Last year I kept track of the series & films I watched; this year I've decided to keep track of whatever books I read! So this one is for the month of January – I'll share these sometime after the month is over, or if I read more than one book during the month, I will do their reviews as soon as I finish the book :)

[valeffelees]

All your ask game files look super interesting, but what can you tell us about #6?

i am doing fucking backflips rn, i am so excited someone asked about this one. stay with me for a sec, ok? because i can tell you LOTS about #6, long post below the cut.

#6, titled The Cadwallader Collection, takes place August 12th, 2018, and is told from the third person perspective of a human Baz in a non-magical world, wherein there is no Watford.

Baz is home with his family in Hampshire for the summer, and normally he spends this day alone, sleeping most of it away before going to her grave in the evening to leave her flowers. this 12th, however, there is a tentative knock at his door before breakfast. Daphne tells him a new art exhibition has opened in London and invites him to go see it with her, just the two of them. The Cadwallader Collection, she calls it. Baz knows she knows what day it is... but instead of being put off, he appreciates her effort.

and so they go to the exhibition together. the interior of the gallery is bland and white and full of large, strange paintings with thick golden frames that even he finds gaudy. Daphne has stopped to talk to the woman behind the desk for a moment, but she urges Baz to go and start looking around at the exhibits, she'll catch up with him in a moment, and they're... all right? kind of odd and creepy, he thinks. Baz wanders deeper and deeper into the strange, maze-like gallery and comes across a painting of a large, empty room. stone walls and stone floors and a high ceiling, a wide double window. a silhouette is standing against it. he reads the name of the painting: "Mummers House," outloud, because nobody else is around. then, the lights go out.

Baz tries to find Daphne but... the whole gallery is empty, everyone is gone. he makes it back to the reception area, but when he tries the main doors, they're locked, so he turns back to see if he can find an emergency exit instead, and as he does, he steps into a puddle of blue paint. there is a trail of it on the floor, like someone was dripping paint from their hands as they walked by. it splatters down the carpet, leading all the way to one of Cadwallader's oldest displays, a painting so massive it is stretched out across the floor instead of on the wall. the velvet rope that usually hangs around it to keep people a safe distance away has been unhooked on one side, and the paint leads right to it... Baz steps closer to try and read the name of the painting in the dark. "The World of Mages."

something strikes his back, then everything goes dark.

when he wakes up, he is in a hallway made of stone and dust and dirt and bone. with no other choice, he starts walking, and soon comes to a small room, the placard beside the door calls it "Le Tombeau des Enfants". inside, the walls are nothing but rows of skulls, and there is a single child-sized coffin in the centre with a small, glass vase on top of it, holding a single red rose with ten petals...

... LOL, SO—IF YOU'RE STILL WITH ME, this is actually the beginning of one of my all time favourite games, a free RPG Maker horror/puzzle adventure game called Ib (イヴ), released back in 2012!!!

that's why i don't feel shy sharing all this, because the fanfic actually follows the first few minutes of the game beat for beat until the moment Baz picks up the rose, at which point the stories diverge from each other. fun fact: including this fic, i have written three Ib crossover AUs.

here are some images i nabbed off the fandom wiki of the Guertena art gallery! 🌹

[seresinhangmanjake]

Come Back Together

Benny Cross x reader 

Summary in bullet points:

Now that Benny is back in your life, he is trying to be a better husband

Benny is insecure about his relationship and a barfight ensues

Reader is pregnant (three months)

Benny does a bit of pining and is emotionally vulnerable

Fluffiness 

Part 2 of Come Back Knockin’

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, angst and fluff, relationship struggles, physical altercations (fist fight), mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy, mention of alcohol, cursing, kissing, happy stuff, typos. I think that’s it. This took me forever to write for some reason and I was weirdly stressed about it. tf is wrong with me, right? Anyway…

Words: alright no one freak out…it’s 4300. Idk why it’s a lot longer than the first part but I always do that. If you’re willing to venture onward, I appreciate it :)

Benny Cross Masterlist

Part 3: Together and More

He stares at you incessantly. Which isn’t out of the ordinary—he used to stare at you all the time—but there’s something else to it now. He stares as if he thinks you’ll disappear the second he takes his eyes off of you. Like you'll slip through his fingers. Ironic, really, since disappearing in the blink of an eye is more his thing. 

“Can I make you something?” he asks, staring at you from his chair while you pull a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You should be sitting instead of me.”

“You don’t know how to cook, Benny,” you state matter-of-factly, turning your back to him as you switch on the stove and set a pan on the lit burner.

Cooking has always been your responsibility. It was one of the things you brought to this relationship. And you liked being the one to keep Benny fed, never chiming in when the other Vandals’ wives and girlfriends mentioned how exhausting it was to satisfy their man’s grumbling stomach. You liked that Benny appreciated you for it. 

Now you wonder if subconsciously you believed that as long as you fed him, he’d stay by your side, regardless of his wild nature. Kind of like a puppy. But Benny Cross is no puppy.

“I should probably learn,” he says. “You know, for the kid.”

You hum, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan. “Maybe you should stick to learning how not to ditch your family,” you retort, and immediately your features twist in a wince.

You can’t believe you let those words out of your mouth. You’d been doing so well at holding in the little jabs and remarks, no matter how hard they’ve pushed at your sealed lips. Not to say a few of them haven’t slipped through in the last month, they have, but each time they did, you received instant punishment in the form of Benny’s heart crumbling right before your eyes.

He’s never tried to make you feel guilty about your slip-ups, but he can’t seem to hide his expressions around you anymore. Ever since Benny returned, he’s been different. Your husband who was once so stoic has untethered his emotions from the piece inside of him that, for years, refused to let them show. His affection is more outward now, but unfortunately, so is his pain. So you made a rule to stop doing that to him; stop catching him off guard with words of hurt during a time of pending forgiveness. What he did was damaging, yes, but it’s unfair to pick at him when he’s been doing everything he can to show you he has value to this family; things he never would have done before. 

He wakes earlier than you to clean the most-used areas of the house—a poorly done job; you still find dust in spaces dust should have easily been wiped up, but he tries. He found work at a mechanic’s shop not too far from the house, and surprisingly, he has yet to complain about it—a decent job was always something he physically and mentally shunned. He got rid of everything in the spare room and has begun painting the walls from the deep brown left over from the prior owners to a soft, light green that matches the baby blanket he brought you. It’s cute, and significantly better than you would have done without him. You would’ve been too stressed to put together a nice nursery.

Benny awkwardly clears his throat, breaking up your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The lingering discomfort from your snide tone is palpable, heavy, just short of physically formed, and you can’t escape it. 

“I didn’t mean that,” you tell him as you flip the egg. 

The sizzle in the pan is louder as uncooked egg hits the heat, but you can still hear his deep breath, easily picturing the weak smile on his face when he softly says, “It’s ok. I deserve it.”

You’re about to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance. 

“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to a meeting tonight,” Benny says. “You wanna come with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh…” he says, dejected. “It's been a while since you've been to one. I know you stopped goin’ when I was…away, so I thought…”

You set the spatula down and turn to face him, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t going to go without you. And considering everything, everyone just would have pitied me. I'm sure they still do.”

His blue eyes fall to the tiled floor. You know he hates that such a thought would enter your mind, but it’s not as if you’re capable of stopping it. He put you in a pitiful situation, and were the circumstances placed upon another woman, you would have felt those same feelings for her. 

“No one pities you, baby. I promise,” he says. “They miss you.” His head lifts so he can meet your stare. “But if you don’t want to go then I'll stay here with you. We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen. “No!” you yelp. Benny’s head jerks back at the sudden outburst and you swallow to buy yourself time to sort your thoughts into words, but the best you come up with is: “You’re right, actually. We should go.”

“But you just–” His brow raises in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

If your options are club meeting surrounded by a large group of people or movie-watching with you and Benny alone, then yes, you are absolutely sure. The movie channels have rallied against you lately. Out of the five times you and Benny have watched a film since he came back, all five have been romances. All of them!

You don’t know if he scours the TV Guide without you noticing or if the television channels have simply rallied against you, but sitting beside your husband who you are trying not to give in to is made all the more difficult when watching Audrey Hepburn fall in love with George Peppard or Cary Grant or Greggory Peck for God's sake. You see them and it makes you forget things. You forget that you’re as upset as you are, and with Benny so close, your heart starts to pound and you can’t focus on anything else. You want to crawl right into his arms, let him hold you and kiss you and take you on the couch after what has felt like an eternity apart. But you can’t do that. It’s too soon. So no movies. 

“Positive,” you nod. 

An easy smile slides onto his face. “Well that’s great, baby. It'll be fun.”

“Yea. Sure.”

“Alright,” he says, standing. “I gotta get to the shop.”

He pauses as he passes by you, and you hold his gaze as he squashes the instinct to press his lips to your forehead. 

You weren’t married to Benny for long before he panicked and left—only a handful of months—but it was long enough for the two of you to develop your own set of rituals. And by the consistency and ease with which Benny performed those rituals, anyone would have assumed they’d been in place for decades. 

A kiss on the forehead after breakfast was one ritual. As was the bedtime cuddling with your leg slotted between his. And the way he’d stare at you in the mirror, his arms crossed and body leaning against the doorframe as he watched you brush your teeth with a grin on his face. 

But the one you miss the most is the hug from behind that you'd receive once he’d decided to come home for the night. He’d circle his arms around your waist and place a kiss on your neck, and then he’d chuckle because he was so determined to sneak up on you and give you a little scare but was never successful. You could feel him before he touched you, you could smell his cologne, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun, so you let him have hope that one day he would finally surprise you. 

Benny blows out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters with a brief hint of a smile.

As the front door closes behind him, a carbon smell grabs your attention and you look over your shoulder at your breakfast. It’s charred, inedible, and you don’t even care, you just knock the pan off to the side to keep the house from burning down.

—

“Well, thank the lord,” Betty’s voice travels across the bar as she and Kathy approach you and Benny. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again, honey.”

Kathy draws you into a tight hug that rips you from Benny’s side. “Things have not been the same with you gone,” she says as she leans back, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. She smiles so sweetly and you breathe a sigh of relief. These women were your friends and you feel guilty for abandoning them just because Benny abandoned you. “Come sit.”

“Benny Cross, we are stealin’ your wife,” Betty declares, “And you don't get to whine about it.” There’s a dash of vitriol in her tone that nibbles at your gut and you hope it’s simply an effect of the alcohol she must’ve had prior to your arrival. 

“Oh,” Benny says. You glance at him, at the disappointed look on his face—subtle, but there. He wanted you by his side tonight, but he’s not going to force you to deny their offer. “Ok.”

Kathy and Betty each take one of your hands and lead you to a small rounded table. It’s the centerpiece of the room, and as one of three surrounding it, so are you, unfortunately. As Betty sticks a cigarette in her mouth and Kathy takes a sip of her beer, your eyes scan the low-lit space. 

Stares from the men lining the walls burn your cheeks. You recognize only half of them—the Vets, as they’re known—and they give you their smiles and nods in a ‘welcome back’ gesture, Johnny, in particular, sporting a rare grin.

The others—the Newcomers; out-of-towners who came specifically to join the club—look at you with something else in their eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? They seem to know exactly who you are and enjoy a little too much putting a face to the name. You, however, don’t know a single one of them. They’d arrived shortly before Benny left, and while some faces, those with distinct features, you can recall from nuggets of your memory, you’ve never spoken to them. You never got their names. 

“Why this table?” you ask your friends.

“Best view of the pool table, obviously,” Betty chuckles after snapping Johnny’s lighter shut. She nudges her head in that direction. “Nothin’ wrong with lookin’, I say.”

Flanking the table are Cal, Wahoo, and Benny; Wahoo watching and chattering from the sidelines as Cal and Benny alternate between shots.

Benny edges from one side of the table to the other, sizing up his options. Then, cue in hand, cigarette dangling from his lips, he bends at the waist and lines up the shot. 

He’s so stupidly beautiful. The lamp hanging above the table illuminates him, defining his muscles by highlighting the hills and casting the valleys into shadow. A haze of smoke coats your view, but his pure essence and magnetism break through it like rays of sun through parted clouds. 

Benny’s eyes flick up to yours and he winks as he shoots, driving two balls directly into their nets. 

Your mouth goes dry. You swallow sandpaper, leaving your throat all raw and scratchy.

“So, how’ve you been, honey?” Betty asks, and you turn your head. “How've you been feelin’? How’s that nausea?”

“Yea,” Kathy adds, leaning in close as if seeking out a secret, “and how’s it been goin’ with him? Any trouble?”

“Um, I'm fine,” you say, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Nausea’s manageable. 

As far as Benny goes, there's no trouble,” you tell them, “It’s just–” You pause. 

What can you say? That you haven’t fully forgiven him even though he’s working so hard to be a good husband? That some of the things he’s doing around the house are swoon-worthy compared to what most men you know would do but you’re too stubborn to express the depth of your appreciation? Any woman would look at you like you’re insane. 

When you think about it like that, maybe you are insane. 

“I don't know,” you say with a shrug and a shake of your head. “It's hard to explain.”

“Well, according to Johnny, Benny’s worried each day in the house will be his last,” Betty says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “That boy’s so afraid he’s gonna mess up and let you down again that I'm surprised he hasn't lost his marbles. I read in Life that bein’ that anxious wreaks havoc on the body and mind.”

Betty’s always reading something in Life, and a good portion of the time you are hesitant to take her seriously. Not necessarily because you don’t trust what the magazine reports, but that Betty tends to exaggerate for kicks. 

You have a feeling she’s not exaggerating this time.

Your face falls. 

“Don’t you feel bad about it for one second,” Kathy scolds, placing her hand on top of yours. “You’re well within your rights to make him earn his place.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to be scared that I'm going to–”

You’re cut off by a male voice slipping through a brief lull in the cacophony of noise.

“If she don’t want Benny no more, she can bring her sweet ass right on over to me,” a Newcomer says in a slurring mess. “I’d sure take better care of her than he did.”

Every soul in the room falls deadly silent—the only remaining sound being the melody of Elvis's Baby Let's Play House from the jukebox—and the world around you freezes.

Cigarettes are held over ashtrays, their ashes yet to be knocked off. Beer bottles are raised to lips without the satisfaction of a sip. The bartender’s rag has only wiped up half of a drunken man’s spill. No one is breathing and everyone’s eyes are glued to either the Newcomer or your husband. Yours are on Newcomer, watching his features shift and tick as he soaks in the weight of what he just said, and what it’s about to cost him. 

Kathy sighs. “Oh, god.” 

The whole bar hears her—impossible not to; you could hear a mouse skitter across the floor—and her words seem to carry with them the wave of a green flag, because a moment later, Benny rushes the guy and tackles him to the ground. 

Chaos erupts. All at once, shouts, curses, and hateful name-calling explode like the impact of a bomb. Nearly every man in the club is taking sides in the war between Newcomers and Vets. Fists fly into faces. Faces are shoved against walls. Walls are cracked from bodies slamming into them. There’s the distinct sound of bone meeting bone. Blood splatters across your table.

“Jesus, fellas!” Kathy snaps as she and Betty hop up, dragging you out of the danger zone. 

In a panic, your head whips in all directions. You can’t find Benny, but you need to find him and you need to find him now. 

You’ve seen him throw punches at races and members’ houses but this is too public a space, and if the cops are called, he can’t be caught fighting again. Nor can he risk having fingers pointed his way for instigating. He already has a record, and though you didn’t know him during his few stints behind bars, you know he has exhausted the sheriff's leniency. If you leave now, Johnny will come up with something to excise Benny’s participation should questions arise. 

You take a step forward but Kathy’s grip is tight. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” she shouts.

“To get my husband.”

Betty gapes. “Are you crazy? You're pregnant!” But you ignore her, shaking Kathy off and heading into the storm. “Johnny! Johnny, grab her!”

You weave through fight after fight, stopping short when a body lands at your feet, but he’s up and out of your way in an instant, and you continue dodging and ducking until you spot a blond head. From what you can see, there’s hardly a scratch on him. The same cannot be said for the drunk guy beneath him. 

Before you can move another inch, an arm circles your waist and jerks you back. 

“Hey!” you snap. “Let go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You stay out of it,” Johnny says, lifting you off the ground and setting you down in a safer area. He puts his hands on your shoulders and dips his head to your eye level, locking on to your gaze. “I’ll get ‘im, ok? I’ll get ‘im. Stay right here.”

You nod in agreement, your brows knitted and teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

From this location, you have a better view of your husband and the friend who is trying and failing to break up the fight. Johnny yanking on Benny’s dominant arm is not enough to stop the attacks. Neither is the forearm locked around his neck. 

When Cal notices Johnny’s struggle, he pushes his opponent into a table and races over to take hold of Benny’s other bicep. Together they pull him off the man whose face no longer resembles a human’s. It’s a bloody mess. His nose is dented in, eyes swollen shut, lips split and mouth hanging open to reveal an empty space where a tooth used to be. 

Benny’s chest heaves. Murder is in his glare. He jerks against his restraints but struggles to break free with the force of two men weighing him to the ground. 

Then Johnny mutters something in Benny’s ear that immediately halts his thrashing. His breathing slows. The fire fades from his irises, returning them to their soft cerulean, and his eyes tear away from the beaten man to dart around the room in search of you. 

As Benny spots you, Johnny's lips move, seemingly forming the words ‘Get outta here,’ before he pats Benny on the chest and lets him rise to his feet. 

Benny comes to you and without stopping grasps your hand and leads you out of the bar.

— 

“You think you fractured anything?” You ask as you slide the key into the lock and turn.

Benny stretches and flexes his fingers. “No,” he answers, trailing into the house behind you and shutting the front door. “Are you upset with me?” 

He’s been wanting to ask that question since you left the bar. As he'd placed the helmet on your head and clipped the strap under your chin, you'd observed his lips, how they were parting as if to speak but unable to get anything out. And when he'd helped you off the bike in front of the house, his expression was far away, his jaw shifting, teeth clenching—the look of your husband in intense thought. 

At least he finally spit it out. Normally, he would have run his fingers through his hair and sighed, opting not to bother you with the question; a behavior that used to drive you crazy. It took weeks after you met for you to accept that while Benny was willing to share a lot with you—things he didn’t intend to share with anyone; a life, for instance—there were things best not to pester him into revealing. 

So you’re a patient partner. If it needs to be said or asked, it’ll be said or asked. And you're glad he decided this was one question that needed to be asked.

You sigh, hanging your jacket on the rack, and Benny follows, selecting the hook closest to yours. 

“I mean, you nearly killed him,” you say as you make your way to the back of the living room and open the closet that houses the first aid kit. 

On tippy toes, you can barely brush your fingers along the metal tin, and you grumble each time you unintentionally push it a little further back on the shelf.

A muscled arm reaches above your head to grab the kit. Benny places it in your hands before stepping back into the seating area and dropping down onto the footstool, his standard perch when you’re fixing him up. 

Blue eyes are glued to your body as you take a seat on the couch. 

You pull the lid off of the tin and riffle through it for the small bottle of alcohol—you’ll have to buy more soon, it’s getting low—and a clean rag. With the alcohol-soaked fabric at the ready, you slip your fingers under his warm palm, bring his hand close, and get to work dabbing the wounds and wiping off some of the dried blood. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the shot of pain that makes any other human groan and pinch their eyes tight.

“He was out of line,” he tells you.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t out of line, but I really don't need you getting in trouble and being taken away from me, Benny.” You’re focused on his injury, but out of the corner of your eye, he winces in shame. “Besides, he was just mouthing off.”

“Mouthin’ off about my wife.”

With a huff, you drop your joined hands onto your lap and shoot him a look. “I know, but do you honestly believe what he said could ever happen? Do you think I would leave you for some other man?”

You ask with the full expectation of a whip-quick reply—‘of course not, baby’—but Benny adam’s apple bobs, and his teeth clench as his eyes flit to the undoubtedly less interesting carpet.

“Benny…?”

He runs his uninjured hand down his face and looks up at you. “C'mon, baby, it's not that wild of a thought. Not after what I did to you,” he says, his thumb slowly running over your knuckles. “You are so much better than anything I should be allowed to have. But me? You could throw a rock in any direction and you'd hit a man better than me. One that wouldn’t have panicked and left you pregnant and alone for six weeks.”          

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”   

“It is true.”

“It is not, and even if it was, I don't want another man,” you confess. A beat passes as you exhale heavily to stave off the stinging of oncoming tears. “It hurts that you left, but I am working through it, we are working through it, ok? You’re not going to lose me, Benny Cross. Not unless you leave me.”

“I'm never leavin’ you,” he says. 

You place your free hand on his cheek. “Then you’re never losing me.”

Benny swallows hard and scans your face—each and every feature—lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. As your thumb strokes his cheekbone, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, turns his head, and presses a kiss to your palm. 

“Baby, I miss you so much,” he mutters, his brows pinched in anguish. “I miss touchin’ you. I miss holdin’ you. I miss sleepin’ next to you.” He lightly shakes his head. “I know I don’t deserve you, and I sure as hell don’t deserve our baby, but I fuckin’ miss you.”

The unit that is your heart and body and soul feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. This isn’t what the past month of your lives was meant to be about. It was supposed to be about building trust, not dishing out punishment. And yes, you’ve messed up before, said things that weren’t fair, but keeping him at arm's length is more than that. It’s a deeper pain. Stronger. More potent. Not just for him, but for you as well, and now you can’t quite see the point anymore. Staying away from his touch does not help anything if what you want at the end of the day is to be together. And that is what you want. 

When you touch your lips to his for the first time in almost three months, you whimper. You whimper and you melt and the tears want to come back because it’s so much easier to resist desire when you haven’t entertained it in a while. But now you’ve given in. You’re tasting him like you used to, tasting the remnants of gin and cigarettes and the blueberry pie you made for dessert, and it’s all Benny. Benny, who is so shocked that you’ve kissed him that it takes a handful of seconds before he kisses you back and becomes the Benny you know. And then he’s curling his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap, and his hands are everywhere. Squeezing your thighs, sliding over your ass, tracing up your spine, holding the back of your neck to guide you closer so he can kiss you harder, and yea, you are never depriving yourself of your husband again.

Benny stands, taking you with him, supporting your weight as he keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him. He blindly turns and settles into the comfort of the couch with your legs on either side of his hips. 

You lean back, breaking the connection of your lips. “Benny.”

He’s staring at you like you’re hypnotic, mesmerizing. Like he’s drunk on kisses. His fingers trace the curvature of your face. A thumb ghosts over the swollen pillows of your mouth. 

“Yea, baby,” he says, voice gravelly, just above a whisper.

“Do you want to be back in our bed?”

Benny stiffens and he blinks away that glazed-over expression. “You mean it?” He asks. You nod. 

“Are you gonna be in the bed too?” he says, sifting his fingers through your hair. “We're not just swappin’, are we?”

You smile. “No, we aren't swapping,” you promise him, your forehead falling against his. “I'm making room.”

---

A/N: I kind of want to do a time jump Part 3 with lots of Dad!Benny stuff. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading that. Thanks :)

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