#benji's scribbles

[dragonvhs]

... And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Drawing of Wolfgang and Bluey for @mickmundane I did a bit ago! I'm behind on art posting, I gotta catch up! :]

[dragonvhs]

I had to draw this as me and @splatoonlink

[albino-parakeet]

Jwct countdown May 14-15 prompt: Favorite Ship

Yaz and Sammy living the life I wish I had. Sapphic dinosaur ranch owners lol. Ft. Bumpy in the background

Of course I had to draw these two. Their kiss/confession scene is on repeat in my mind all the time and I’m still so just in awe that it happened. Here’s to hoping they stay together and happy throughout all of Chaos Theory! @campbenji

Timelapse undercut:

Song used in Timelapse (and is the same one I listened to on repeat while working on this)-> Real Love by Cat Clyde

[pokemon1oadvanced]

Ben feeding Speckles

[skelesquids]

my awesome bouyfriend

@benjibees

[that-bat]

Been a bit obsessed with playing Phasmophobia recently and decided to draw what an average game feels like to me. I play alone which makes everything so much scarier

And yes this is an accurate representation of my wardrobe, I grabbed the shirt on the left as a reference while coloring and it's still sitting on my bed

[iinsawdious]

beginnings of an m:i wof au because i can do whatever i want

Sidewinder (Benji) - Sandwing, Fatehunter (Ethan) - NightWing, Peregrine (Ilsa) - Sky/RainWing hybrid

[welcome-to-the-nunyverse]

Symphonies & Stories on Saturday!

Where I take songs I heavily relate to GAC and discuss it.

First song for this: Bubble Wrap by Precious Pepala

This is a song that has themes & undertones of religious trauma stemmed from overzealous parents, and it represents breaking away from that. And for that reason, I relate it to my characters, the Espositos.

The Espositos (shown right below) are eight siblings who have what’s known as gifts and curses—otherwise known as power with a downside (I can probably touch on that in a different post).

My story is a low fantasy, taking place in our world, so this magic is uh… not exactly normal nor expected! And for the two Catholic parents of the Espositos, this is unspeakably nightmarish. They are under the belief that their children got this magic from the Devil, and as a result treat them as so. They treat the children inhumanly, referring to them as demonic scum, & prohibiting them from going outside as a means to keep them from being seen from the outside world and henceforth associating the Esposito reputation with demonics.

They essentially grew up with the idea that they’re hell born being ingrained into their mindset.

And that relates very well to the song :3

I’d imagine it’s the Espositos’ internal struggle after they run away from their parents. They want to find against everything they’ve been taught, but at the same time struggle with believing it’s true. After all, they’re an outlier in society and, as far as they know, the only people with gifts and curses in this world (haha untrue).

The ongoing verse that’s repeated three times has different inflections and tones each time and goes as:

If I get to those golden gates

And he turns me away,

Well then you can say “I told you so” and

I’ll burn forevermore

Like the sun that’ll rise

Even after I die

The first time the verse is sung is the softest version of itself, and to me it feels like the Espositos that don’t put up much of a fight for varying reasons. Beverly because she’s more of a mediator and caretaker than a fighter, Wolfgang because he can never truly find it in himself to defend his own humanity since he hardly believe he has any, August because he’s quite numb and really accepts any pain he’s prone to, and Lily because she’s a timid child.

The second time this verse is sung, it’s with more intensity in the voice, and that reminds me of the more fighter or angry Espositos. Tess because of her generally defensive nature mainly to protect her younger siblings, May because she’s learned that having a hard exterior as a form of protection, Jack because he’s so confused why they can’t be accepted as normal, and Benjie because he’s been hardened by witnessing the suffering of all his older siblings and himself.

All the Espositos internalize this message their parents scorned into their ears, and it’s made them all types of ways: most importantly, fearful. Fearful of acceptance from the world that they’ve been told hates them. And this can mainly be exemplified in how they fear rejection from their foster mom, Janette O’Reilly.

And I imagine that most with the third verse, when in my mind it’s a shift from the Godly imagery that the song itself is representing to a comparison to the Espositos fearing rejection from the only source of parental affection they’ve had.

“Golden gates” instead of referring to the Heavenly gates, now may refer to the gates of Janette’s home. “Turns me away” refers to a fear of Janette rejecting them; tied to that misbelief that they’re unworthy of love, especially that parental love. If this one, singular chance of hope turns them away, then what the Espositos have been told their whole lives would be true. They’d be nothing more than demonic spawns, unfit for society, and unloved by all but each other. And that final verse represents all that is on the line for them in my relation to them and the song.

And that’s all for that! Gonna hopefully do another next Saturday!! Bye.

[p0cketstitched]

marker doodles

[dragonvhs]

Now see him frolicking 💜

[fic-girlie]

Can you write a fic where reader and Joel and reader are walked in on while having sex? Thought about them being in an established relationship and she goes to visit him when he is working at the office at Tommy and Maria's. It's innocent enough at first, just wanting to hand him some coffee and make sure he's not overworking himself. A few kisses turn into a make out session and soon enough Joel's fucking her on his work desk lol. Stuff is pretty heated when Tommy walks in on them. His reaction is up to you, really, but I think he'd be mad at first, saying how he could be walking in with Benji and see that. But I think afterwards he would never let Joel live that down lol always teasing him and making dirty comments every time he cans

Caught in the act

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: A surprise visit to Joel’s office turns hot fast—until Tommy walks in. Warnings: established relationship, explicit smut (+18), language, semi-public sex, softdom!Joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, desperate Joel, breeding kink? (kinda), interruption, teasing, Joel being embarrassed, Tommy being a menace

The air outside is brisk enough to nip at your skin, but inside the small office, it’s warmer—familiar. A little too quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes when someone’s been stuck in their head too long. You don’t knock. Joel told you not to, more than once, said you never needed to announce yourself. And besides, you can already see him through the glass.

He’s seated at the desk, half-shadowed by the slats of late sunlight cutting through the blinds. Shoulders hunched, brow furrowed. A pencil rests in his hand, scribbling something over a worn notebook, while another stack of paperwork looms to the side. You can just make out the twitch of his jaw as he concentrates, the slow tension in his arm.

You hate seeing him like this. Stuck behind numbers, repairs, shifts, rotations—every little thing Jackson leans on him for. You know he’s proud to be useful here, to have a place. But when his name’s not on the rotation list, Joel finds a way to overfill the empty hours.

Your boots are soft against the floorboards as you walk in. He doesn’t notice at first, too absorbed in whatever notes he’s making. You step closer, then lean down and set the still-steaming cup of coffee near his elbow.

"Figured you could use this."

Joel’s head lifts slowly, pencil pausing mid-sentence. That line between his brows softens the second he sees you, like the weight of his thoughts sloughs off in a single glance.

"Well, look at you," he murmurs, lips tugging into a grin that’s lopsided and warm. "Ain’t you the prettiest damn thing I’ve seen all day."

You laugh quietly, nudging his arm. “You say that even when I bring you bad coffee.”

"This ain’t bad." He lifts the mug and takes a long sip, then hums low. “It’s you bringin’ it that makes it good.”

The compliment lands heavier than you expect, settling warm in your chest. His voice is scratchy—he’s been talking too little today, you can tell—and his eyes linger on you longer than they should for someone still technically on the clock.

“You been here long?” you ask, brushing a few stray papers aside to sit on the edge of his desk.

He leans back in the chair, nodding. “Since early. Got caught up in some generator schedules, then Tommy asked me to double-check the patrol rotation list again. Just wanted a quiet space to think.”

You raise a brow. “So naturally you buried yourself in half the town’s logistics.”

His grin returns, smaller this time. “Keeps me outta trouble.”

You hum, letting your fingers trail over the edge of the desk. “Well. I came to make sure you were still breathing. Coffee’s step one.”

His gaze drops, flicks from your lips to your thighs, then slowly back up again.

"And what’s step two, sweetheart?"

Your breath catches slightly. There’s heat behind those words, slow and steady, the kind that creeps up on you until you’re already burning.

“I guess that depends on what you need,” you say softly, reaching out to smooth a hand over his shoulder. “You’ve been in here so long, figured you might be getting a little…tense.”

His smile fades into something darker, quieter. His hand comes up, fingers brushing the outside of your knee, dragging slowly upward until he reaches the bare skin where your skirt hitches slightly.

“I’m always tense, darlin’. And you know exactly how to make it worse.”

Your breath hitches again.

Joel pushes back the chair just enough to part your knees, sliding himself between them until your thighs bracket his hips. His hands are warm and rough on your legs, thumbs stroking absently against the soft skin there. The room suddenly feels smaller, the afternoon light slanting over the desk and catching in the flecks of grey in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes don’t leave yours.

“You wear this skirt for me?” he murmurs.

Your lips part, heartbeat fluttering.

He smirks faintly. “Yeah. I know you did.”

His fingers dig in slightly, tugging your hips forward so you have no choice but to lean into him, your chest brushing his. He tilts his head, nose brushing yours, lips barely grazing yours as he speaks.

“You walk in here all sweet, bringin’ me coffee, sittin’ on my desk like a little temptation…and now you expect me to keep workin’?”

You feel his breath on your mouth, the way his voice rumbles low in his chest.

“Joel…”

“Mm?” His hand glides higher, underneath the hem of your skirt, fingers teasing over the soft lace of your panties.

"You gonna tell me you didn’t come here hopin’ for this?"

You can’t answer. Not when his thumb strokes slowly between your thighs, not when his other hand cradles the back of your neck and pulls your mouth to his. The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. It turns hungry. Desperate. His mouth opens against yours, tongue sliding deep as you clutch the fabric of his flannel shirt in both hands.

He groans into the kiss. “You got no idea what you do to me.”

You gasp as he pulls back just enough to flip you around and push you gently down against the desk, your palms bracing against the wood.

“Joel—” you start, breath catching.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs. “Gonna make you feel good. Right here. Just like this.”

He pushes your skirt up over your hips, and you hear the soft metallic sound of his belt unbuckling, the low rasp of a zipper. Then his hand smooths over your ass and squeezes, rough and firm.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice almost reverent while pulling the lace aside. “Look at this fuckin’ view. Bent over my desk. You know how crazy you make me?”

Your lips part, the heat between your thighs pulsing with anticipation.

He leans over your back, mouth brushing your ear. “You stay quiet now. Wouldn’t wanna get caught…”

His hips press forward in one long, hungry stroke, and your body opens for him like it was made to. You feel the slow drag of him, thick and perfect, and your hands brace against the desk as you exhale a moan that’s half relief, half disbelief at just how good he feels.

Joel groans low behind you, voice all gravel and heat. “Jesus Christ, baby…”

He sinks deeper, hips flush with your ass, one large hand steady on your lower back. The other slides up your spine, palm spreading wide between your shoulder blades, grounding you there. Holding you still. His.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he murmurs, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “You—bent over my desk, beggin’ for it.”

“I wasn’t begging,” you whisper, breathless.

“Not yet,” he mutters, pulling out slowly—too slowly—then slamming back in, hard enough to jolt your hips against the edge of the desk.

You gasp, nails scraping the wood.

“There it is,” he growls, hips snapping forward again. “That little sound you make when I get you deep.”

Your skirt’s bunched around your waist, his flannel shirt brushing your back with every thrust, the thick heat of his body pressing over you. Every movement drives his cock deeper, fills you more completely than should be possible.

And the sounds—God, the sounds—wet and rhythmic, the slap of skin on skin, the rough breaths against your ear, the low groan he lets out every time you clench around him.

“You feel that?” he pants. “Feel how soaked you are for me? Feel how deep I go?”

You nod against the desk, mouth parted, eyes rolling.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to leave.” He fucks you harder, deeper. “You want me to stay right there, huh? Stuff you full?”

“Joel,” you gasp, voice half-broken.

He slows just enough to grind in deep, hips circling with filthy precision. You sob out a moan, knees trembling.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips against your neck. “Take it. Just like that. Take every goddamn inch.”

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, anything, but he’s relentless. His hands slide under your blouse, cupping your breasts through the fabric. He pinches your nipples just hard enough to make you whimper.

“Thought I was gonna behave,” he mutters. “Thought I could keep my hands off you for five fuckin’ minutes.”

“You didn’t even last one.”

“’Cause you walked in here like a fuckin’ dream,” he snarls. “You know what you do to me, baby? You know how hard it is to stay good when you look at me with those fuckin’ eyes?”

His teeth graze your shoulder, and his pace quickens, hips pistoning into you with purpose. Each thrust is brutal, delicious, deep enough to knock every coherent thought from your head.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he growls. “Right here. Right on this desk.”

“Joel,” you cry out again, eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name, baby. Let the whole damn building know who’s fuckin’ you this good.”

You’re close. So close it hurts. Your thighs are shaking, body coiled tight, nerve endings screaming.

And Joel knows it.

“You’re gettin’ close, ain’t you?” he pants. “I can feel it. You gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“You gonna come all over my cock while I fuck you in my office like some dirty little secret?”

Your head nods frantically. “Please—please—Joel—”

He growls again, slamming into you, every inch of him thick and hot and perfect. His hand leaves your breast to slide down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, filthy circles.

“Let go for me,” he whispers. “Come for me, baby. Show me how good I fuck you.”

That’s all it takes.

You shatter around him, crying out into the crook of your elbow, body clenching so hard it pulls a strangled groan from his chest. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, chasing his own high while your body trembles beneath him.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, I’m gonna—” His voice breaks. “Where do you want it? Tell me.”

You manage a breathless, “Inside.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ—”

Joel drives into you with a deep, guttural sound and spills into you, cock twitching as he presses in to the hilt. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, forehead pressed to your back, his body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, the only sound is the both of you breathing—heavy, ragged, stunned.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Joel’s hands slide down your sides, gentler now. His lips press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You okay, darlin’?”

You nod against the desk, body still quaking. “Holy shit, Joel.”

He laughs, low and wrecked, still buried deep inside you.

“Yeah,” he says. “Holy shit is right.”

You shift slightly, and he hisses as you tighten around him.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmurs. “Just—stay there a minute. Let me enjoy this.”

You smile, eyes closed. “This was not what I had in mind when I brought you coffee.”

He kisses your shoulder again. “Best coffee break of my life.”

——

Joel’s still inside you, breathing heavy against your back, hands soft now, skimming your waist with that same reverence he always shows when it’s just the two of you. He presses a slow kiss to your spine, murmuring something warm and low that you’re too blissed-out to register.

And then, the office door swings open with a clang.

You freeze.

Joel goes rigid behind you.

And Tommy’s voice—sharp, casual, too damn close—cuts into the air like a gunshot.

“Hey, Joel, you seen the new—”

He stops.

The silence is deafening.

Your face flames hotter than the summer sun outside Jackson. You’re still bent over Joel’s desk, skirt hitched up around your hips, his body pressed flush behind you, still inside you.

Joel’s hand flies to your waist, yanking you up as fast as he can manage without slipping out. You let out a startled gasp as he drags you back against his chest, his other arm grabbing for a half-folded blanket on the back of his chair and yanking it around you both.

Tommy, eyes wide and mouth already twisting, takes a full two seconds before he spins away, palm up like he can block out the memory.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Joel!”

You bury your face in your hands, body still shaking—but not from the orgasm anymore.

Joel lets out a grunt that sounds somewhere between panic and misery. He’s still hard inside you, still holding you as if that will somehow hide what Tommy has very, very clearly seen.

You can hear the shuffle of Tommy’s boots as he turns again—just slightly, like he’s tempted to shout more but not quite brave enough to face what he just walked in on.

“Are you serious right now? In the damn office? You couldn’t wait till you got home like a normal person?”

Joel grits his teeth, voice tight with humiliation. “Tommy. Get the fuck out.”

“I am out!” he snaps, though he’s still somewhere in the doorway. “But Jesus, I coulda walked in with Benji. You think I wanna explain to my six-year-old why his uncle’s pants are around his fuckin’ ankles?!”

You peek over Joel’s shoulder, heart pounding in your chest. Tommy’s got his hand shielding his eyes, but his ears are beet red.

Joel lets out a breath like it’s the only thing keeping him from exploding. His voice is a warning growl now. “Close the door.”

Tommy huffs—muttering a string of curses as he finally slams the door shut.

The silence returns. This time, thick with mortification.

Joel lets his head fall against your shoulder, arms still tight around you.

“Goddamn,” he breathes.

You let out a slow, shaky breath. “That… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Darlin’, I swear—” Joel leans in, pressing his forehead to the side of your face. “I would’ve rather walked through a horde of clickers buck-naked than have my brother see my bare ass in the office.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. It bubbles out of you suddenly, helpless and wild, like the only possible reaction to something this deeply, painfully awkward.

Joel groans. “Don’t. Don’t you dare laugh.”

“You said clickers,” you giggle, gasping for air. “Oh my God. I’m never showing my face in that house again.”

He groans again, gently pulling out of you at last, guiding you toward the edge of the desk with careful hands. You fumble with your skirt while he tucks himself away with a speed born of pure panic.

“Think he saw—?” you start.

“He saw everything, sweetheart.”

You groan. “I want to die.”

Joel grabs a ragged tissue from his drawer and mutters, “Don’t worry. I’ll die first. He’s never gonna let this go.”

You’re both still fixing yourselves when Joel suddenly straightens, tense again. “Shit. Shit. I think he’s still out there.”

“Joel,” you whisper, wide-eyed. “Don’t open the—”

Too late. Joel pulls open the door.

And Tommy’s right there, arms crossed, a look on his face that says he’s ready.

“Enjoy your ‘paperwork’?” he says with a slow grin.

Joel slams the door again with a grunt, but Tommy’s voice keeps going, loud and unforgiving through the wood.

“I mean, I knew you were settlin’ into your role here, but damn, Joel. Didn’t know Jackson’s new project was breakin’ in the office furniture.”

Joel runs a hand over his face and groans. “I hate him.”

You snort again, biting your lip as you try to smooth your hair down.

“You know I have to tell Maria,” Tommy calls, practically laughing now. “She’ll want to steam clean the desk, probably with holy water.”

Joel groans so loud it echoes.

“Do not tell her,” he shouts back.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell her. I’ll just hint. ‘Course, she’s smart enough to put it together once she hears who was moanin’ loud enough to echo off the water tower.”

You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from howling.

“Go away, Tommy!” Joel yells, glaring at the door like he could will his brother out of existence.

“Can’t! Got work to do,” Tommy says, chipper now. “Just gimme five minutes to wipe your handprints off the edge of the desk—oh wait, I can’t, because you were balls deep in—”

Joel lunges for the door.

You catch his arm, laughing so hard you’re doubled over, tears in your eyes. “Joel. Joel. It’s not worth the jail time.”

He glares at the door. “He’s dead to me.”

Tommy’s already walking off down the hall, calling out one final jab as his voice fades: “You better Lysol everything!”

The silence settles once more.

You glance at Joel. His face is red, his jaw tight.

But his eyes flick to yours—and slowly, his expression shifts. A reluctant smile curves his mouth.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, stepping closer.

You shrug, still breathless. “A little.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. “You know I’m never gonna live this down, right? Every damn council meeting, he’s gonna bring this up. Every cookout. Every time I sit at my own damn desk.”

“Guess we’ll have to find a new one to christen,” you whisper.

Joel groans again—but this time, there’s heat behind it. He kisses you once, slow and deep.

Then he smirks.

“Next time, door stays locked.”

[whyyouacknsocraycray]

Thing I've been thinking about with Benji and Ethan that I haven't seen anyone post about yet.

Mission Impossible The Final Reckoning spoilers below:

After coming out of the Entity's machine, Ethan rattles off a bunch of information and scribbles some more down for Benji, then takes off running.

And they don't see each other again until after Ethan has the source code from the Arctic!

Which means Benji had to figure out from 2 minutes of a barely lucid Ethan rambling when he's about to run for Luther what the plan was and where to find him again from the list of stuff he asked Benji to gather.

And of course, the plan is completely insane! Ethan wants them to meet him at a random spot in the Arctic that they can't fly to and cut him out of the ice, knowing he'll probably be dead when they do it. Benji has to hope that the cold water slows brain death enough to give them a little extra time to get to him, because they won't know exactly where he will pop up until he reaches the surface.

Not only that, they need to somehow bring a decompression chamber to him, because he will die without it even if they do revive him.

Through it all, Benji has to be the calm, collected team leader and assure them everything will be fine. Ethan trusts them to do all of this work so he survives. But deep down, I bet Benji was in a panic, because to Ethan, getting the source code is the only thing that matters. If they pull out the box on his corpse, they still have the chance to win.

(And yes, it should have been Benji pulling Ethan out of the water. Though I will say that Grace nailed the comedic stare of "what have I gotten myself into" when she realized the gun was for polar bears.)

[pokemon1oadvanced]

[rebeccasteventaylor]

That notebook…

I think Benji gave it to Ethan to scribble his notes in after the Entity. And Ethan scribbles a few notes and gives a few coherent mumbles and it’s enough for Benji to know what to do, now he’s team leader (and Ethan clutches onto him like he can’t let him go and calls him Benj….)

Later on - Benji still has that notebook, filled with meticulous diagrams. It’s their notebook, filled with their shared thoughts, scribbles only the other can understand.

Have they done this before? Have they shared a notebook before. Are there old notebooks, treasured somewhere safe, filled with Benji’s and Ethan’s ideas, side by side, little notes to each other. Half finished doodles?

Did Ethan get that notebook and find it covered in Benji’s blood?

[zerothisnero]

Pov: ur Matt Hubris or B.E.N or something idfk

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏴‍☠️Four Lines Tag🏴‍☠️✨

Thank you for tagging me here, @thecomfywriter and here @drchenquill ! 💛✨

My lines: A line about fear, a line about success, a line about pain, a line about peace, a line about grief, an action line

Your lines: A line about fighting, a line about hope, a line about anger, a line about the sea.

A line about fear

The first mate stared down into the water, still in lamenting disbelief. He shook his head as he felt his chest tighten. His breath quickened, as a panic attack began coursing through his veins. Davey thought, in that moment, that he too would keel over and leave the crew mourning.

A line about success

The skeletal deckhands tried one more time to get a disarming shot in, but the wind was on The Phoenix's side. Successfully, she sailed away as the lighter ship navigated the waters swiftly and with ease.

A line about pain

Benjamin pushed air through gritted teeth, his leg shaking violently. He didn’t even realize Peter had already scooped him back up, he hurt so bad. Pulses of sharp pain kept shooting up his calf as he clutched Captain Hart’s soaked shirt for stability, and as an outlet to vent the pain.

A line about peace

Sitting up to greet the morning, he looked out the window as the sea and the sun smiled warmly back. The noble sighed gently in content, blushing happily as he felt the air of freedom radiate on his freckled face.

A line about grief

Peter crumbled into inconsolable sobs on his dead dad’s chest as Georgie walked up to the newly-assigned captain of The Phoenix, patting and rubbing his back. Georgie’s eyes were shut tightly, leaking his own tears, but remaining stoic and supportive of the grieving Hart. Davey entered the bed chambers, his amber eyes widening at the languishing pair.

The second mate looked in forlorn at the tragic sight, shaking his head in sorrow as he spoke pitifully. “Oh, Peter… .” Davey rushed to the boy’s side and joined Georgie in comforting the crying son until the blonde’s tears, much like the storm, calmed its torrential downpour.

An action line

“ Ugh .” Benjamin snarled in disgust, then wound up his fist to land it on Peter’s stomach. Captain Hart easily side-stepped and grabbed Benji’s arm; For as built as the captain was, he was also very agile. He needed to be, after all, to survive the trials and tribulations of being a notorious pirate captain.

“….!!!” Benjamin’s gasped as Peter jerked him forward, finding himself in a headlock as one of the captain’s sturdy arms hugged tightly over Benji’s neck. Not too tightly, but tight enough to restrain his movement. In another quick flash, Peter used his free hand to unsheathe a knife from his back pocket, hovering it over Benjamin’s hip near the kidney, but being careful not to poke him.

“ Dead .” Peter twirled the knife in his hand before sheathing it again, removing his arm from around Benjamin’s throat and taking a few steps back. “Gotta be faster than that.”

Tagging gently: @gioiaalbanoart , @wyked-ao3 , @clevah-girlboss , @cowboybrunch , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @paeliae-occasionally , @theink-stainedfolk , @the-letterbox-archives , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees , @honeybewrites , @moltenwrites , @finickyfelix , @tildeathiwillwrite , @autism-purgatory , @authorcoledipalo , @rivenantiqnerd , @theaistired , @theprissythumbelina , @thebearthatreads , @flurrysahin , @quillswriting , @willtheweaver , @glasshouses-and-stones , @willowseed , @yourpenpaldee , @ominous-feychild , @mysticstarlightduck , @astramachina , @justabigoldnerd , @pippinoftheshire , @rotting-moon-writes , @madi-konrad , @scribble-dee-vee , @saturnine-saturneight +open tag! ✨