— THROUGH TIME ...

" something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern. "

[springleapt-blog]

can't sleep, not in his own bed anyway. he hated it when they fought, him and sam, even if it just meant a day or two of avoiding each other before owning up and apologizing. it happened less now, but that just meant he'd grown more sensitive to it when it did... what time is it? 2:30? perfect time to get up and go crawl into the bed of the boy who doesn't seem to want to talk to you. maybe the chaste kiss that follows a hushed " 'm sorry..." in his ear will seal the deal? or the one after that?

i don’t deserve him.  //  @atlasfollowed.

HIS FINGERS ARE COLD, GRASPING AT THE COMFORTER THAT SOFTLY CRINKLES IN RESPONSE.  he doesn’t mind it–he has a natural disposition to cool weather and a brisk wind–cold-blooded, some people might say. it’s never bothered him before. 

as he drifts in and out of a restless sleep, the cold is so much more unforgiving tonight. an uneasy heart and mind plague him, the petty argument that he wrought upon himself: something stupid  (  did he glance at someone as they were walking by? )  for sure.  he knows that irrational and incendiary comments flows naturally from him, and with every tiny fight they have, the tumultuous thoughts follow: what if we’re not meant to be together?  because if takashi isn’t the one he’ll spend the rest of his damn life with, then all he’ll be is his first HEARTBREAK. he’s taken everything: his first kiss, his first love, everything that he’s believed to never suit him. 

he’s not sure if he’ll ever recover from that.

( the thought of takashi kissing someone else besides you makes you sick to your stomach. tomorrow, you’ll apologize. quietly, never out loud. a touch to his hand in the morning while you make his eggs just the way he likes, a subtle glance and the fact that you made lunch for him again last night. his favorites. things like that are how you apologize, because you don’t trust yourself to ever say sorry–you don’t know what else will follow because your heart is still something FOREIGN to you, someone else’s job and certainly not yours, but maybe trusting it to him isn’t such a bad idea–…

he hears the creaking of the floorboards and shoulders tense. it’s not an intruder, not a stalker, he reassures himself.  of course it’s him. he radiates heat like the sun and the air changes when he enters the room–it’s impossible for him to sneak around like that.  

sam hardly breathes when his boyfriend slides under the covers, the night’s chill banished with his apologetic whisper and the caress of lips against his own. twilight drips onto the dark shadows of his jaw, darkens the creases between strong brows, carves out the contours of his cheeks and his nose, and plush, pouting lips answer his gaze. he doesn’t even realize his eyes are open and drinking him in, because takashi has always been a DREAM, a vacant desire never thought to be filled but now, his cup is overflowing with a fantasy he can’t fathom. 

“ … are you? ”  his voice is hoarse from the throes of sleep, and though it’s in good fun, he watches companion’s expression twist in response.  it’s that superiority he feels again, knowing he holds his heart in the palm of his hand, where every little nip and jab and compliment sends him reeling in different directions … but he LOVES him. he really does. even under the choking grasp of paranoia bubbling in his chest, even through the thought that one day, he might find someone new, someone better.

(  you should enjoy it while it lasts.  )

“ i know you are, don’t make that face. ”  sam heaves a heavy, drowsy sigh as he squirms closer to larger frame, dragging a leg over his as fingers glide down muscular arms to intertwine their fingers. these small intimacies ease the intrusive devil, keep him at bay until his very airs are kissed from his mouth within the comfort of his arms. but tonight is not for passion; the night is made of healing and soft touches, warmth, and the comfort of his scent as he buries his cold nose along the flexing junction of his neck. 

where their skin touches, it’s sunlight and fireflies, the romantic notions of a rose, his heartbeat thumping out the syllables of takashi’s name, over, and over, and over again. he’s the only one who’s ever made him feel this way.  in his ears, his breath, in his hand, his HEART.  god, it’s so warm ;  it’s always spring blossoms and summer shine with him. 

“ don’t wake me up again, ‘kay? i’ll kick you out next time… ”  but he can’t help but smile as he lazily presses soft lips along the sharp angle of his jaw before returning to his warmth.

“ … good night, takashi. ”

[springleapt-blog]

dovecall‌.

   mismatched irises gaze around upcoming blocks, visionary disposition leaves them wandering around the area… yet, destination apparent right in front of them. ——-   lonnie’s gaze flickers in unbound curiosity, unacquainted persona piquing interest. they expel a simper in response. ( benign persona already steadying inquisitive heart. ) “hi, i’m here for a consultation, is it a good time?”

     their shop is relatively small--unassuming, at best and worst--but polished, nevertheless. wood-paneled floors distance them from the smooth, mechanical, marble-esque tattoo parlors down the street, with walls painted a serene dull-green, the color of downtrodden foliage still moist from morning dew. 

     “ oh, yes! ”  expression visibly brighten as she stands ( not quite taller than when she was sitting ) and pulls from a drawer a small metal placard, placing it on the edge of the receptionist desk. ‘ ring bell for assistance ’ is etched into the metal, and under the soft, rosy lights, the ink seems to glow and undulate, but perhaps it’s merely an illusion of the human eye.

     “ right this way!  my mother’s normally the one doing the consultations, but i promise, i’m just as good as her. you can call me mary, though, just ignore the namecard. ”  even if her smile is merely one out of customer courtesy, the corners of her eyes crinkle with a radiant joy, a crowned aura of mayflowers and gleaming adoration.

[springleapt-blog]

ID: SHIROGANE

      ❝ …see, what a lot of people don’t realize is that astronomy and astrophysics are like… two completely different things. astronomy just studies the universe beyond the earth’s atmosphere. astrophysics actually branches off of astronomy and it’s waaay more concerned with like… the actual physics of stars, and planets, and black holes, all those kinds of things. like how they form, and how they die, how they evolve… ❞

      he’s hardly taking a breath between each word, let alone each sentence. he could go on for hours if he really wanted to       (       he’s done it before       )       but he’s limiting himself to one, just for Sam’s sake. reviewing for an exam doesn’t require Shiro to unload the entirety of the space encyclopedia rooted in his brain on his captive audience, anyway – just the really boring and tedious parts of it.

      ❝ …so, like, for example… if you had a, uh- shit, what’s the word?- …a telescope! if you had a telescope or something in your backyard and you liked to observe the night sky, and make star charts, and learn about our solar system and stuff then that’s more along the lines of astronomy, ok, but- but then if you’re a nerd and like to use equations to calculate how big a star has to be in order to become a black hole one day then you’re basically already an amateur astrophysicist, and- ❞

      the young man pauses briefly, staring his single spectator down with exasperation as arms fold neatly over his chest, ❝ Sam, you’re really not listening to a word I’m saying, are you? ❞

     no, he’s not. he’s stopped listening after, maybe, the first few lines. star charts and planets, telescopes and solar systems, are things he can hardly grasp. the blood in his mouth and the heat of shiro’s skin... that, is his subject. he lazily blinks, expression near sultry as he lifts cheek from its perch, slowly focusing on the rather petulant look in his eyes when the edges of his lips curl.

     “ nope. i stopped listening ... a while back. but you can keep going. i didn’t expect you to be such a nerd. ”  he says it as though it’s a given that someone would enjoy talking to a brick wall, or a lump of tired skin and bone. 

     there’s just something soothing about the way he speaks; shiro is far from eloquent, but the words that pass his lips sound golden, a rim of glitter and shining bangles, the shimmering facets of an ocean illuminated in fire, lapping at the sandy shores of a place he’d much rather be in than here, but with him. he won’t ever say it, though. 

     “ you sound good, ”  sam murmurs. his eyes close, because looking at shiro’s face might be too embarrassing, even for him. “ i like it when you talk, takashi. ” 

[springleapt-blog]

     he’s never really pegged shiro as a practitioner of science, let alone physics, out of all subjects. of course, there’s a focus on space--he’s witnessed the calamities of the paint-splattered man curled over a tiny orrery of his own making, so consumed by his concentration that he’s skipped two meals--but, he wasn’t quite prepared for the onslaught of vomitry that comes out of his mouth at the moment.

     a part of him couldn’t care less. after all, his focus is on smaller, but more intricate things: the way blood pumps in the body, the flexure of joints, the mechanisms of the human body’s existence. 

     but, in the moment, the stars from the perspective of shiro’s tongue feels almost romantic. his chin presses into his palm as he stares, half-spellbound and half-bored, at the blurring vision of his enthusiastic visage, every word rolling off his lips sounding like another language ( dreamy, but incoherent ), but he’s losing track of his own features as they melt. warm brown glazes over as lids fall lower, cherry-tinted tiers parting softly as only mellifluous tonality embraces his ears.

     he can’t seem to look away, even if he isn’t seeing him. being near someone has never felt quite this comfortable before.   // * @atlasfollowed.

[springleapt-blog]

     it’s far too late for her to tear into a material space to isolate her and the demon with her legendary blade of arn-ord, but it’s of no consequence when a life is at stake. her mask and hair blaze with a passionate red, flickering against the midnight sky as time seems to still around them; every breath takes longer and each exhale of misty smoke dissipates slower.

     “ get back! ”   morgan is sure she doesn’t need to yell another time as claws clash ‘gainst her blade, until molten metal glistens with a spark and the demon roars with a heart-stopping intensity as its once clear claws are burnt black at the edges. there’s no need to show-off in a fight like this--minimize the damages and maximize the result--and with a few lightning edge movements, purple, bubbling blood splatters against the pavement and the demon’s head rolls, surely away from the bystander.

    today’s demon is not as ... difficult as the last one, and she breathes a sigh of relief as she cleans off her blade. 

    though, her flames persist, a beautiful, billowing pillar of red and orange, sending sparks into the night as even her windstrewn hair seems to glow with the intensity of a wildfire. 

    “ are you alright? not hurt anywhere, miss? ”  she walks over to the fallen, probably stunned out of her mind lady, and pulls off her armored glove, exposing a calloused, but friendly palm. “ i’m sorry you had to see this, but, it’s all a bad dream, okay? or a good dream, if you’re into things like this. ”   // @conseille.

[springleapt-blog]

openbones‌.

                 heaven  never  minded   carrying  the  conversation  too  much  —–  often  times  she  spoke  as  if  she  were  talking  to  her  pets  ,  mostly  consisting  of  stories  (  be  it  of  her  own past  or  related  to  her  comics  )  ,  complaining  about  a  problem  to  them  in  hopes  of  figuring  it  out  ,  or  simply  talking  about  her  day.   however  ,  had  come  to  the  issue  of  unable  to  come  up  with  a  topic  to  discuss.  he  was  so  terribly  nervous  ,  that  was  as  obvious  as  it  got  ,  so  she  didn’t  pry  him  for  a  response  of  any  kind.   however  ,  the  silence  made  it  more  difficult  to  ignore  her  own  growing  nervousness.  perhaps  these  cafe  meetups  (  dare  she  call  them  dates  ? ?  )  simply  weren’t  suited  for  them.  the  pressure  to  talk  seemed  to  be  too  high  the  both  of  them.                        ❛     hey  ——  um  —–   are  you  free  after  this  ? ?    i  was  thinking  ,  maybe  ,   we  could  see  a  movie  or  go  to  the  aquarium  ?  ?     ❜ 

     is he free? is he free? the question bounces around his head as hues widen as he thinks. just a blog post, a couple of books--a draught of tea and a comfortable evening by himself, surrounded by worlds trapped in paper and ink, just ... god, he’s comfortable in all his loneliness and that just makes him sadder. 

     eventually, his neck muscles relax enough to let him nods. oh god, of course he nods, because how could he refuse such a request? 

     but, he can’t speak and digits continue to shake, his eyes flickering closer--it’s a start--back to her figure. there, he fixates on her hands (kissable) and his tongue briefly wets his lips out of pure anxiety, a habit that occurs twice before he tries to clear his throat. god, he’s trying so hard. he’s trying his best. he’d normally squeeze his eyes shut, but that would be WEIRD.

     “ ... t-the ... a ... aquarium ...? --... i-it’d be ... nice. ”  and tonality cracks at the end, starting a newfound wildfire in his cheeks as he cringes.

[springleapt-blog]

     okay, okay!!  here’s a starter call!!  just drop a heart down below~ i’d really like it if you specified a muse of mine, or your own muse, just to make it easier for the both of us!!  

[springleapt-blog]

     his cheeks are flushed, sunkissed skin rendered scalding from his exertion, but with one final grunt, he manages to re-rack the barbell and exhausted arms fall back onto arched chest, sweat beading at his brow as he takes a couple of breaths. eventually, he gets up to a sitting position, the corners of his lips curling as he raises a tired fist to his spotting partner. 

     “ if it weren’t for you, i don’t think i’d be able to do that last rep, man ... can’t believe i hit my PR so early!  ” and between his words, his stomach grumbles in protest of all his exertion, forcing a half-embarrassed, half-amused laugh from him as he slowly gets to his feet. “ ‘re you free after this? it’ll be my treat! ”    // * @stckhlmr.

[springleapt-blog]

     okay, okay!!  here’s a starter call!!  just drop a heart down below~ i’d really like it if you specified a muse of mine, or your own muse, just to make it easier for the both of us!!  

[springleapt-blog]

bibinqka‌.

   if he were to use his true power, he could’ve kept balance with his control over plants - but there’s no satisfaction in duplicity, is there? he concedes defeat, since somehow it’s more fun to see his content in winning.

   “aw… you win,” he whines, picking the tomato back up again. memories of tutors telling him not to play with his food return to him, the back of his hands recollecting the sting of a sharp slap when he disobeyed. still, maybe he prefers that over what he assumes to be nars’ poor attempt at trash talking.

   soon enough, nars joins him in the loser’s corner. his quiet laugh would’ve shaken the tomato off of him if he’d stayed a little longer. “is this a tie then?”

     oh, he’s pouting a bit. lips pursed as hues open in a flash and he sits up, hand bitterly, but gently holding the tomato close. what a disgrace--how many leviathan ships has he shot down in simulation without a blink of his eye, and he cannot even balance a tomato? preposterous!

     but nevertheless, he’s not one to twist the truth.

     “ ... your tomato fell first, didn’t it? ” he blinks, and though it comes off as a question, it’s akin to a statement as he stares a hole into his father figure’s eyes. not quite a competition, and yet, there’s a streak of pride in the way he challenges vas’ compromise.

     “ i’m still the winner... i think. ”

[springleapt-blog]

     his hands uncomfortably tremble as he clutches the teacup tightly, fingertips paling further than already pallid tones. heaven ... looks incredibly angelic today, too. as his gaze flickers towards her, he’s drawn to strands of chestnut that curl into soft visage, to plump rosy tiers, tempted to touch them, tuck them behind her ear, lightly brush his lips against her cheek, but such fantasies will never come true for him. oh god, speak already. the silence is so awkward, do SOMETHING.

     his jaw is locked uncomfortably and his gaze starts to flicker every which way. she’s probably staring at him, thinking he’s a lunatic, but those thoughts only serve to amplify his growing paranoia. the teacup is shaking in his grasp, now.

     (  how can she stand being around you??  )   

// * @openbones.  

[springleapt-blog]

     the soft chime of the bell causes myrrh’s head to snap up, gaze connecting with a chipper stranger. gaze roams over soft hair dyed a pastel shade of galaxies and glowing skin of an angel’s, before lips curl to a polite smile as she tilts her head slightly. “ welcome!  are you here for a consultation, or do you have a session booked already? ”    // * @dovecall.

[springleapt-blog]

     okay, okay!!  here’s a starter call!!  just drop a heart down below~ i’d really like it if you specified a muse of mine, or your own muse, just to make it easier for the both of us!!  

[springleapt-blog]

i loaf u!!!

the LOve o f my LIFE  /  @dovecall.

god i lOAF U TOo,, i KNEAD u in mY LIFE,,, ,  u,, u are my WONDER bread ,, 

[springleapt-blog]

"sam ~ do you wanna' hear a joke?" from pun bitch

pun bitch, no  /  @dovecall.

the taller stares at companion, dark hues dead inside as he contemplates the art of murder, stacking the charges against him in his brain as he wonders if his judge would be partial to puns, or abhor the very concept of them. he reminds him too much of his wonderful, but HORRIBLE sister. jaw clenches as he eventually rolls his eyes, momentary bloodlust evaporating to mere exasperation.

“ well, you’ve told me about yourself before, ”  he eventually retorts with an absolute shit-eating smirk on pale lips. 

…. ouch.

[springleapt-blog]

     i have like -2 followers but if u want me to hit u up for some good plotting energy, just fill the heart ‘n i’ll come bother the heck out of you!!

[springleapt-blog]

bibinqka‌.

   “we’ll see about that.” too heated to back down, maybe it’s time to show the kid his true tomato balancing powers. absolutely atrocious. no talking, it’ll distract him. 

   but it’s difficult not to spill out every bursting emotion and thought he feels being so relaxed next to him. maybe one of the hands around here will come by and judge/join them - neither really matters.

   with nars’ eyes closed, vasilis’ hands reach for the third tomato, having rolled off near to their feet. if he can kick it up without his own falling… if only. already defeated, his own tomato practically dives off of his head.

     he hears the telltale plop of a fateful tomato meeting a bruised end and just that causes hues to shoot open, perfectly still--a learned trait, don’t move. they can sense movement, breath, the scent of your life, so you become the dead--and the fruit-vegetable remains without a hitch, atop his head.

     “ it wasn’t a challenge at all, ” and if he could gloat about something, this would be it. “ did you really try? ...or maybe you didn’t use your full power against me. so merciful. ”

     a little soft sigh, more neutral than melancholic, makes its way past parted lips. eyelids fall to a close once more, hiding the drab ceiling and dusty sunrays. 

     maybe he doesn’t deserve this kind of peace.

      oh, his tomato has fallen from its perch...