spookshiit-archive-blog

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         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

         CATCH QUINCY ON THE FLIP SIDE YO !!!

[spookshiit-archive-blog]

i’m gonna be honest, i don’t really wanna do replies... i’m just gonna go back on my squirrel girl account.

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what, am i supposed to stand around and NOT fight crime ?!   is my catchphrase   “ eats nuts, carefully avoid kicking butts ” ?   because that honestly sounds like a terrible catchphrase and lifestyle choice.

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       when doesn’t quincy look relatively filthy. okay, maybe now he just looks a little more so than that. he might as well have twigs in his hair and flies around his person. the craft isn’t always a CLEAN one. he looks at her with a raised brow, cigarette between his lips before plucking it, letting out a long breath of cancerous fumes.    “  i’d look COOLER if there was a beautiful woman on my lap.  “    he places the stick back where it came from, lips then peeling to smirk and give a playful wink.

❛ Quin… ❜  Filthy. Where has he been? Loving other people? An irrational resentment had bloomed in the core of her breast, though now, she finds herself incredibly smitten with the sight of him. 

It wasn’t like she was innocent, or like she didn’t understanding how exhausting it must be to care for her.   ❛ You look so cool, smoking like that. ❜   // @spookshiit

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              FAIRY TALES AND BOOKS AND MOTHER’S WORDS had quincy dreaming of when this day would come. when it was that quincy would find happiness in a singular body, fr a second time. a second chance at a future. something he’d craved more than the IMMORTALITY. something that has made quincy consider opening his arms wide to the voice of sweet death. not for years, of course, after sprouts have run around their feet. CRACKS of bats or RIBBONS on ankles. cookies and milk and songs to sing before the sand man works magic.

what did ben do to deserve quincy ??  well, he walked through that door and suddenly here they are. he doesn’t believe that’s how it works; deserving a person. it’s FATE dancing their fingers along the threads of life, weaving them together, and he’s so fucking thankful for it. his own fingers grip to sopping cloths, putting them from skin in an effort to show the urgency.    “  i LOVE you so fucking much.  “    it doesn’t sound so scary anymore. the little words that aren’t so little. not when everything else around him is living proof that it’s fact.

           war   -   wrought hands find their place      against a beard encircled face,     thumbing along to CATCH water droplets that seemed to be patterned after CONSTELLATIONS     &     quincy’s stubble served as the night sky.     iridescent are the teeth that nip TENTATIVELY at captured lips,     a sheepish smile melding onto the veteran’s face.     ❝    what’d i do to DESERVE YOU     ?    ❞     

          he is THANKFUL for the rain     ———-     tears of pure happiness smoothing over twin SWELLS of cheeks accompanied by the SLIGHT QUIVER in a wide grin.     surely,     ben had seen his future before he had meet quincy :     SIX FEET UNDER in a hole that is three feet wide,     accentuated with a GRANITE HEADSTONE.     &    so came the man that seemingly DANCED into a crumbling life,     gracing ben with a hope he had lost MANY YEARS ago on a battle field overseas.     behind closed eyes,     ben is given INSIGHT to what he hopes is his future     ;     one with an AWAITED PROPOSAL,     clad in white     ———-     to the SOUNDS of smaller feet THRUMMING against oak flooring.

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              an eyebrow RAISES at her comment, wondering if she’s really do it.    “  i’d BITE you, and not in a CUTE way.  “    he grits his teeth at her. in all honesty, he would really bite her. not in a way that wouldn’t erupt a sweet sound of pleasure, of course. but those FANTASIES will remain buried for now. after all, they are of two different generations. 

                     her  head  cants  to  the  side,  a  shy  smile  growing  on  rosen  lips  whilst  wiping  at  the  SANGUINE  stains.  hazel  orbs  are  fixated  on  the  ugly  gash,  sympathetic  to  his  unspoken  pain.  hollow  voice  is  soft,  low,  thoughtful.   ‘ mmmm         woulda been c-CUTE if you did  .. .  what if i poke at it ? ’   chastity  is  gone,  replaced  by  an  IMPISH  look,  doe  eyes  will  raise  to  peek  at  his.  killer  &&  sprightly.  playful  curve  of  the  lips.

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            a single arm wraps around her. she loves him. he’s not sure he’s heard that from someone in years.    “  i love you, too.  “    we should have crossed over that line a while ago. this feels pretty great.

She feels guilty for even thinking it, now. A small tremble passing through her spine, digits lightly curling into his shirt. Madonna noses at Quin’s throat, eyes downcast.     ❛    …You know I love you.    ❜    A soft murmur, she kisses his cheek.    ❛    I hate it. I love you.  ❜

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            he walks down his small pathway in his back yard leading to his car.    “  yet, here you are !!  “    there was no doubt, quincy was at his best when working his magic. he was in his best mood, the most productive, and less of a dick-wad. fishing keys from his pocket, he unlocks the doors and places the box on the floor in the back, then getting in the front.    “  it’ll be fun, zee !  have faith.  “    the most fun part will not being cursed anymore.

                        her nose immediately scrunched when he spoke, not immediately being compelled towards movement ( given what he said ) but, when his enthusiasm resulted in his exit, she let out a loud groan and followed after him.   ❛       i hate your magic …     ❜   it was very much rooted with the earth, drawing from an energy she KNEW to exist … but that was beyond her grasp. hands dusted down the front of her pants as she RELUCTANTLY sped up to catch him.

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               what was more typical in quincy’s shared bathroom experiences, was rapid removing of clothes, mixed lips, lustful sounds. none of that was currently taking place in the bathroom, nor would quincy expect that with ben. it was different, just like EVERYTHING ELSE with the two of them. he wasn’t so much nervous as he lacked a care about the matter. to ben though, he might understand this was different. that was okay.

being comfortable in his own body, he let all clothes fall to the floor, standing in only his own flesh. he looked to ben, and while he was EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTED, he let a warm, welcoming expression pass his face. it was all okay. nothing bad would come of this. the hard part was over for them. the opening up, the crying, the fear. this was supposed to be RELAXING.

         sienna hues advert from starkness,     a gentlemanly HABIT of ben’s     (  or one derived from innocence     &     nervousness  ).     the younger of two now stands with conflicting THOUGHTS,     rethinking this situation.     quincy had done this BEFORE,     ben had not     ———-     the showers taken in BARRACKS hardly counted     ;     everyone was too caught up in WAR to pay mind to those around them. 

            a wavering gaze shifts to the EDGE of the tub,     &     then to the lidded toilet,     contemplating whether he should assume those places RATHER than joining quincy.     if anyone is CHILDISH,     it is ben     ———-     unable to decide without some sort of ENCOURAGEMENT from the other,     standing nearly NUDE without so much of a single word.

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              “  i’m not YELLING at you, buster. i’m just sayin’  !!  “    okay, maybe he’s yelling now.

          ❝ i’m trying, don’t YELL AT ME. ❞