𝗡𝗢 𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗘 / 𝗡𝗢 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬

ᵃ ˢᵗᵉᵖʰᵉᶰ ᵏᶤᶰᵍ ʳᵒˡᵉᵖˡᵃʸ ᵇˡᵒᵍ  

[jeanmoreaux]

— Fredrik Backman, Us Against You

[graysanguinity]

 i hope you’re all well -- i hope march is treating you well !

[amare-habeo]

Stanislav Zhukovsky (Polish-Bielorusian, 1873-1944)

A road in a forest in winter, 1928

Oil on canvas, 62 x 74 cm

[flowerais-deactivated20211031]

“I disappeared into books when I was very young, disappeared into them like someone running into the woods.”

— Rebecca Solnit (via babylullabies)

[graysanguinity]

The shorter man snorted a laugh, immediately shaking his head as a hand lifted to card through his silver-streaked waves. “Nah, he was out in New York and I only had to suffer through him for my undergrad— Surprisingly I was never in one of his classes again and I’m not sure if that was on purpose or not.” He figured it must have been not that he was too broken up about it. Their encounter  had been earlier in his second semester of his first year so he was either very lucky throughout the rest of his undergraduate degree or he really made an impression to not end up ever seeing the man again. A small reprieve in what had been a fairly tumultuous life up until that point.

“Was I? I never would have said so back then… All I wanted to do was tell stories,” the writer responded with a simple shrug. There hadn’t ever been a doubt in his mind that he would end up as an author, however. He had known that from the moment he could tell a tale, there was nothing else for him. That determination and confidence had certainly taken him far and he knew that most never got to experience what he had, especially with how young he had been when his first book was published. And fuck, did he really feel his age in this moment; sitting here with an old friend — having just reunited with and regained his memories of the greatest friends he ever had only a week ago — and talking about their younger years, what they had been up to during the time in between. His heart clenched at the thought that so much time had passed between them.

Bad? Bill didn’t think that Gary had looked bad a day in his life and he was quick to make that clear. “No, not at all. You just look how I feel, is all.” He had been wearing a similar expression for days, after all. Being with Jones had been the best he had felt since— Well. Since. Hearing the other man’s reply had him reaching out to lay a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. “I remember,” confirmed the brunette, “Douglas Cavell.” Duddits being the nickname that Jones and their group of friends had called him and so had Bill and the Losers in turn. “I’m… Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” Losing a friend like that wasn’t easy, he knew from experience. He wondered if that horrible emptiness he felt and the crushing guilt would ever go away. Probably not. “He was a great guy— I’m sorry I missed the service.” Bill would have liked to have paid his respects, something he had been doing far too often lately, but still. It was worth it to remember a friend. Once again, he became very aware of his age.

His hand fell away as their drinks were set in front of them and he pulled it close, turning the glass idly rather than taking a sip before he turned to look at the other’s profile with his chin resting on his hand, sad blue eyes taking in the pain on his face feeling powerless to do anything to make it better in the face of that grief. The only thing there was for it was time. “How are they? Alright I hope? Despite everything.” Better than what was left of the Losers, he prayed. Could anyone that came out of this place really ever be alright?

            the name brings a terrible feeling back into his heart and mind, a             feeling that jones thought he had pushed down enough to get on             through the rest of his day.  he feels like crying when bill puts his             hand on his shoulder.   he could use a damn hug.       instead he             nods and tries to reach for the beer without shaking like a goddamn              leaf.  he raises the beer.

       ❛    to douglas,    the kindest kid i’ve ever known.              he saved a girl’s life,  y’know that?   she’d been             missing for three damn days.    ❜     he doesn’t              mention the weird finger trick that he’d taught all             of them that had lead them right to her,  the line,              as they all referred to it ---   duddits seen the line              better than all of them combined.                      jonesy clinks his drink to bill’s and tips his head                      back, downing nearly half the bottle; throat bobs                      repeatedly and he drinks like a drowning man.    ❛          they’re alright,  actually.   i think it’s been so long              that they forget - they all have lives i’m not privy to              like I once was.     except joseph --  beaver doesn’t              do much dating.         ❜

                 having bill’s eyes trained on him so intensely gives him a                  bit of a bashful moment,  suddenly aware that he’s doing                  too much talking. but even as he realizes this he doesn’t                  feel like bill minds.    as it often felt as a child,  they could                  have been the only two people in the world and jonesy                   wouldn’t have noticed.    

❛         no, no!  don’t worry about it, really -  his mom turned into           a bit of a hermit.  she’s nice, but it was just her and duddits           at the end.     beaver tried to hit on her.    god, you should           have seen it;   she’s always had a thing for him.   i used to           think he had a thing for her too -- now I know he did. talk           about cougar central, y’know?    ❜                  

                     the laughter that follows is forced,  more for bill’s                      comfort than his own.     the strange thing is that                      all day he’s been carrying the ugly feeling of being                      alone but with bill here, the oldest of old friends,                       he feels less of it weighing on him.      slowly, his                      smile becomes more genuine.       

 ❛       it’s been too long, man.   really.   i forgot a lot of things in              my time here, lots of people, but i never forgot you;   you          were a derry staple.     ❜      

[graysanguinity]

muse  aesthetics ,   (   season  edition  !   )   repost  don’t  reblog .   bold  always applies.   italicize  sometimes  applies.

✹ SUMMER ✹ — cold drinks after a long day, hiking in the woods just outside the city, swimming in a lake, spontaneous picnics, the warmth of the sun making you drowsy, the buzz of insects flying by,  blooming wildflowers, the scent of bark and leaves, snapping twigs in half, a blade of grass between your teeth, light sunburn on the tip of your nose, barking dogs, rosy cheeks, children laughing in the distance, sunflowers reaching for the sun, fresh ice tea, resting your head on someone’s lap, warm yellow, the sound of waves crashing

☁ AUTUMN ☁ — cool breezes that feel just right, piles of leaves, rust red, oversized sweaters, knitted blankets, pumpkin spice, the scent of freshly baked goods, open windows letting the fresh air in, cold cheeks and hands, rain boots, carving pumpkins, soft scarves, a comforting embrace from an old friend, the scent right before a storm, wild mushrooms, ripening berries, a cup of hot tea, purring cats, blueberry muffins, braided hair, wearing your partner’s shirts, an alarm pulling you from slumber, burning candles

❅ WINTER ❅ — the crackling of a fireplace, hot chocolate with marshmallows, the smell of fresh cookies, fuzzy socks, beanies pulled over your ears, a strong pot of coffee, dark clouds gathering on the horizon, the sound of wind shaking the house, melting ice, snowflakes in your hair, melancholy afternoons, curling up with a book while the world stands still, cough drops on the nightstand, excitedly giving gifts, long coats with deep pockets, pale blues, flour on the tip of your nose, warm soup, stubble turning into a beard, the scent of leather

❀ SPRING ❀ — the smell after it rains, waking to the sound of birds singing, the crack of thunder, soft pinks, energy drinks or protein shakes, the scent of fabric softener, tidying up, the sweet taste of fresh fruit, competitive spark in eyes, sand beneath your feet, sweat on your brow, catching your breath after running, light green, frosted cupcakes, electricity in the air, forbidden kisses,  the sharp hunger after a work out, daring romances, high ponytails, unexpected storms, picking flowers, running barefoot in the grass, iced coffee

lemme just tag my favorites:  @kaspbraakspeaking (for eddie and beav) @infernalrampage @scribedhorror

[gnossienne]

The snowfall over the past several days has been far too beautiful… © gnossienne

[graysanguinity]

the very first thing that Gary sees when he opens his eyes is the condensation running down the windows like tears,  great big crocodile tears.  he blinks away the darkened skies, still bright enough to make him squint, and turns over in his bed.     his feet hang over the end of the single bed frame and it tucks his feet back in, trying to find his sleep one more.      in the moments following this comfortable scene, we’ll witness the boy realize that he’s overslept.  we’ll see him throw the scratchy blankets off of his lanky body, hair sticking up in every direction, and begin to dress in his sunday best.  he throws on a dark corduroy pair of slacks, a gray button down and a wool sweater the color of mustard;  the one his grandmother made sure to pack for him.      gary, although he prefers Jones, really, Just Jones, doesn’t even have the time to be nervous for the coming day.  the room around him is still empty save for the empty bed across from his own, walls a stark white and the floor a sterile wood.  all of jones’ stuff lay piled in the corner near the desk built into the wall, all tucked away lest someone come in  -- not that he expected visitors. it was the middle of the semester & if he hadn’t gotten a room with a room-mate yet he knew there was a bleak chance that there wouldn’t be anybody else. his school package, the map of the grounds, the time-table he’s already memorized, sits in his leather messenger bag nearest the door;  at least Jones had the sense to pack that up the night before.   with all of his things packed up,  his shoes on (a ratty pair of black converse) he leaves his room and begins to shuffle towards the stairs that would lead him outside.  his hair, longer than it should be, is messily tied into a bun at his nape.    he’s stared at, when he reaches the common room -- everybody is in button downs and sleek black blazers. there wasn’t anytime to delay.  Jones pulls his bag over his shoulder and pushes past the doors to the outside.  he’s hit with a large gust of cold, sleet-y wind and he shouts out a surprise, a large FUCK! before he’s taking the stairs two at a time, legging it to the large, castle-like university beyond the trees.  

Jones is absolutely drenched by the time he makes it to the main corridor to his first class of the day, his hair a darker, burnt-orange now.     his sweater feels heavy, too.    it wasn’t the best start to his day, nor could he forge a worse first impression for himself, but when he cracks the door to his class he realizes that his absence wasn’t missed. not in the least. at the front of the room a man stands with a book in his hand and a pointer in the other, standing at the defensive against a man that speaks slowly from the second row.   his head is turned but Jonesy can se the reddish-brunette head bob and dictate as he speaks carefully, sometimes stopping altogether, as if unsure of his next words;   he would later learn, much much later, that Bill had never been unsure of what he was speaking on, just --- cautious about the words themselves.   the professor is a small man.  Jonesy can see it from where he sneaks into class, falling into the very last row without a single word.   the air is electric, like an argument was just had and had only ceased because something (someone) had interrupted them.    he tries to shrink himself in the back,  tries to become a fly on the wall.      the student he’s speaking with is American, too --- he sounds like he’s from New England. Maybe from Chicago. Jonesy just tries to catch his breath, tries to make no sounds at all. a dark academia thing for @scribedhorror

[graysanguinity]

its my birthday today - i'll try be on tonight 😘

[flowerytale]

Margaret Atwood, from “Owl And Pussycat, Some Years Later”, The Door

[graysanguinity]

   It didn’t take long for Gary to give Eddie what he wanted. Sure, he had said to fuck him, but he couldn’t care less if was his mouth or ass. Hopefully it would be both by the end of this. The shocks of arousal were moving throughout his body over and over, and Eddie was just wishing he could jerk off. That would ruin things though. Or maybe not. Jonesy wouldn’t need Eddie to be hard to fuck him. He was just making excuses in his head for why it would be okay for him to cum so coon.

   With Gary’s dick pushed so far down his throat, Eddie closed his eyes. It wasn’t too hard - he wasn’t gagging but he had already forgotten if his hand was still doing that trick - but the slight challenge of it was enough to, once again, arouse Eddie even more. His dick was begging to be touched, practically screaming for it. That was no doubt that he would cum without being touched once Jonesy was fucking him.

   Breathing through his nose was a life saver, and after hearing the advice given, he started to do so. It helped bring him back to the reality that he was loving where he was right now.

   This time saliva dripped down from Eddie’s chin once Gary pulled back, and he took in a deep breath once he could breathe properly. He practically came racing after Jonesy when he was told to come over, and he licked at his lips, eager for more of the man back in his mouth. His hands moved to the bed on which side of Jonesy, and even without the push from him, Eddie wrapped his lips around the tip of Gary’s dick once more, then pulled back with a soft pop.

   He was more than happy to show Gary what he wanted, and he pulled back from his position just enough so it was easy to see. His eyes moved down to his own dick that was twitching over and over, the evidence of how badly he needed to be touched right there in front of both of them.

it was much more comfortable on the bed, even with his back rim-rod straight.   his cock stands at attention and he sees that eddie’s prick is as well.  good.   jonesy smirks and softly uses the top of his foot to nudge at eddie’s testicles,  prodding it to stand taller.   the warmth on top of his foot is peculiar but welcome, a pleasing weight.    ever so delicately, he then pulls his foot upward and takes his cock between his toes so that he could touch him, urge him to move his hips against it if it felt good;  eddie’s dick is engorged and it slightly jumps when he gives it a clumsy stroke against his toes.  

        ❛    would you like me to touch you? you’ve been so good so far. come up here, sit on my lap.  ❜      those large, freckles hands pat his naked hairy thighs for him to come.

when eddie does begin to climb up his legs, ever the obedient little tart, jonesy takes him by the middle and settles him close up against him, carefully maneuving the man’s legs on either side of his hips.    jones looks at eddie’s mouth and yearns to kiss him, gazes at his swollen and fucked mouth.  both hands run up his thighs.        ❛      i can’t believe how good you are, eds.    there’s nothing more attractive in a man than his need to be subservient.       ❜         it was his turn to be touched now, and jonesy does so with little hesitation.  he takes eddie’s cock with his left hand and holds it still, uses the other hand to collect the pearly substance that leaked out him.      ❛     say ah -  ❜     gary collects a bit more of his pre-come and holds it out for eddie to taste.  

[graysanguinity]

   Jonesy was finally in his mouth, and Eddie had to keep himself from being too eager about it. He wanted to swallow the man whole and he wanted to taste every inch of him. God, he could barely contain himself. He wanted to grab Gary’s legs and push his own head down to take as much as he could. The couple times he had done this before he hadn’t seemed to have a gag reflex, but the dick presented to him now was bigger than any he had, so who knew, right?

   The praise was all he needed, and Eddie dived in a bit more. Okay, well, Gary’s hand on his head was enough to turn him on even more (if that was at all possible). He knew he just wanted to be manhandled, so when the hand in his hair was tightened, and he was pulled back, Eddie was so sure he could cum at any second. Okay, maybe not really, but it definitely felt like it was possible.

   As hot as this was, Eddie wanted Jonesy to go back to what he had been doing before. He wanted to feel the man starting to thrust into his mouth, each thrust getting more and more rough. His own dick was dripping pre-cum, desperate to go further.

   There’s saliva that escapes when he was pulled back to pull up at Gary, but he took the time to catch his breath a bit, even if the other man’s dick was still on his tongue.

   “So fucking good,” he pulled back just enough so he wouldn’t end up hurting Jonesy at all with teeth. Eddie moved to lick at the tip in front of him, eyes moving to meet Gary’s once again. “More. Fuck me, please.”

what a delectable little thing he was!  it was lovely to see him try to gain his breath back, chest heaving just slightly and mouth reddened.     oh, yes, he would fuck him - but not before he’d had his fill of his mouth first.  he touches edward’s lip idly and more sparks begin to burn inside of him.   it burns and turns him into a slightly more robust man than he usually would allow himself, almost too eager to fuck his mouth! and so he does:  he uses both hands now, brings him forward and thrusts himself inside once more.  jonesy sighs out a pleased noise.  he pushes and pulls edward further down his cock, shoving himself almost all the way inside -- only for two shallow thrusts, but he knows he can go deeper, can feel the man’s throat easing around him.       in the same moment it’s when he accidentally pushes too far and it becomes tighter, clearly a little troubled with the breathing part of going down on a man.  

         ❛     remember to breathe, sweet-heart, through your nose.  ❜      instruction came naturally to a man like gary.  his voice is clear but husky, heavy with pleasure that frayed his edges considerably.  perhaps he was reminding himself to breathe - it was becoming more labored, mouth fallen open. 

fucking eddie kaspbrak’s mouth catharsis for his aged body,   a religious experience, even.  images of dramatic stained glass windows appear in his mind’s eye, doors to a church blowing wide open.       he doesn’t want to let up, but he does -- only because he could feel himself getting close to that precipice.    he doesn’t want to come before he’s been inside eddie.  he wants to come inside of him,  wants to fill him up with all the seed and cock he could provide.        ❛      fuck,  eddie.       ❜         when he takes his prick out of eddie’s mouth it springs up excitedly, sheaning with saliva and bulbous and red.      ❛     c’mere,  ❜    backing up against the edge of the bed, jonesy softly sits.    his hand returns to his cock and strokes it slowly, gazing down at eddie -- crawling towards him.    some sick, twisted part of him enjoys seeing him down there, on his knees;  he wondered if he could convince eddie to take a full time job just sucking him off, always at his feet and at the ready.

❛     spread your thighs for me, eddie, i want to see how excited you are for me.  ❜  

[graysanguinity]

“What kind of self-respecting author would I be without one?” He teased in return, his grin wide as blue eyes landed on the taller man’s, holding his gaze. It was nice to spend time together like this, just the two of them with nothing horrible happening around them for once. Well, that was an exaggeration, there had been some really good times when they all got together as kids, finally having fun and not concerned with the awfulness of the town that they were stuck in. Even when it was just the two of them, they could talk about anything and he’d always loved hearing what Jonesy thought about his stories. The praise from the redhead making him feel different. Yet another thing that hadn’t changed.

The author shrugged, brows lifting as Gary seemed reinvigorated with energy and not quite so close to sleep as he had been a moment ago. “I didn’t want the food to get cold or the drinks to get warm,” the shorter man defended though the grin remained. He found it almost impossible to stop smiling around Jonesy. “There were more pressing matters and I thought we could get to the grand tour after— Can’t say I was anticipating us getting through so many movies first, though.” Following the other’s lead he straightened up, stretching his arms up over his head with a soft sigh before they dropped back down to his sides just in time to catch the blanket that was lobbed at him. 

“Is that your not-so-subtle way of saying you want to see it?” Bill asked, setting the blanket aside and standing, his hand reaching out once he approached Gary to help him up. “I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign, Jonesy. All you gotta do is ask.” With all the drinks and being around someone from his home state, the writer could hear his accent creeping back into his voice. 

“Come on, lemme show you to the library— But I have to say that the one here isn’t quite as good as the one I have back in London.”

it was hard not to like being around bill  ---  people just loved him.   it was the easy-going charisma that jonesy is attracted to,  the gentle reminder that there is still kindness in this world. it did not help that he just felt, well, comfortable.     it’s been quite sometime since jones’ hasn’t worried about what he expresses to the world.   being around the guy was like having one’s own personal sun.  

           ❛  hey man, you invited me over for movies and beer.  i didn’t know you had a fucken library!   we should’ve started with that.   food?  who needs sustenance?     ❜     comes the cheeky retort,  grin widening as he makes his way to the large windows;  waiting for bill to lead the way.

❛  that better be a promise,  mr. big - shot.  those signed editions go for a shit-ton on the ebay.  got any first editions?   ❜        he was being hyperbolic.  he didn’t want his books, didn’t want bill to think that was why he’d come -- it wasn’t.    but he felt free, freer that he had in months, and there was something tantalizing about being inide someone’s library. something intimate. at the mention of another library, his eyes bulge slightly.         ❛    fuck me, freddy!   well, shit.  yes,  i’d also like to see that one.   ❜     he meets the man’s eyes.    a mischievous look is returned. 

[graysanguinity]

   The kiss was hot. To think that it took him this long to realize he liked men, it was ridiculous. He had never enjoyed girls romantically, it was a wonder he never truly figured it out, even with the memories of Derry being gone. Okay, he did know, but he never allowed himself to truly understand it. He hadn’t ever been able to remember why he was afraid of telling his mother, but he knew he had always been afraid. With all his memories back now, he knew why he had always been how he was, and it had given him the courage to move past those obstacles.

   Thank god, because he was eager to get Gary’s dick inside him. Didn’t matter where.

   He was happy down here and his knees, brown eyes glued to the cock in front of him. God, he was so eager to have his mouth all over the other man, and he was happy to take the instructions given. It added a whole new level of arousal for Eddie. Although bringing communion into sex was a little weird, but with his mother always bringing him to church back in Derry, he knew what it meant.

   Eddie opened his mouth, as told, and his tongue waited. He couldn’t help it; he moved forward in order to make contact with Gary’s dick, and he instantly felt his own cock twitch once again. Jesus Christ, this was hot.

   Did that really work? He glanced down at his right hand and did what he was told, then looked back up at Jonesy. He nodded. The implication that Eddie might not be able to breathe meant that Jonesy planned on being a little bit rough, and that was way too hot. He looked almost desperate for the man’s dick, eyes leaving his face to go back to it, tongue still out and ready.

sliding into the soft, silky heat of edward’s mouth was bliss.   the warmth was impossible to resist once he’s got his cock inside,  although not nearly halfway pleased.    jonesy’s mouth falls open and his eyes close, chin raising and head tilting back;    a moan, gravely, crawls it’s way up his throat and into the ceiling.    pleasure has him taut, ready to spring at any moment.  he could stay like this forever  --  it was that good.   jonesy pushes forward, hands coming to his own hips to keep himself from bending forward.    it felt fucking amazing.   the sloppy sound of their connection spurs him to pull out slightly, only to press further inside the slick opening. his cock was throbbing, most likely leaking already, profusely, into the back of eddie’s throat.  god, he just needed a little bit more leverage, but his hip aches at the slightly awkward angle.

          ❛     edward   —   that’s it, sweet-heart, just like that --  ❜      slowly, in gentle rocking movements, jones finds himself thrusting more of his length inside, pushes toward the tight muscle he craved.    a hand rests on eddie’s head gently, brushing the hair back from his forehead in a loving motion, delicate almost.        it was slow, at first, when jones’ fucks himself into eddie’s throat.     each thrust is tentative at first, a warning, followed by the rough motion of his hips sliding closer.     

he wanted to fit all of himself inside eddie’s mouth.      it wasn’t a regular occurrence, being able to fit all of his cock inside someone, whether it be mouth or elsewhere  ---  but jonesy is determined.     ❛    fuck -  eds.     ❜    

eventually his had comes back down from space, eyes opening and blinking, trying not to let his mind wander --- it was difficult concentrating.    he grunts, looks down at the man:   he’s positive he could come here, just like this.     seeing eddie there, very much in his own world as well, was an aphrodesiac.       ❛      beautiful   boy  ,    ❜         suddenly he grasps eddie’s hair at the nape, careful not to pull too terribly hard, and yanks his head back, off of his cock.     the sound is obscene and it only turns him on more.  he doesn’t take his prick all the way out of eddie’s mouth, but rather allows his tip to rest on the end of his tongue, uses his other hand to stroke himself, squeezes out the pre-come to drizzle it inside.       ❛      how do i taste?    ❜  

[indiespace-blog1]

[indiespace-blog1]

[graysanguinity]

@infernalrampage

[graysanguinity]

[graysanguinity]

graysanguinity​:

WOULD THOU LIKE TO LIVE DELICIOUSLY?           like this & i’ll write us an a pre-established starter between our muses  👽