#abrupturn

@abrupturn​ asked: survivor!kyojuro for remembers!akaza au: places his hand in akaza's, locking their fingers together. slowly traces the shape of the demon's knuckles with the tip of his index finger. " hey. i've been thinking about the fact that you still need to feed. i don't want you to ignore it and let the hunger make you do things you'll regret. would blood suffice as an alternative? " he askes, grip tightening as he squeezes the former upper moon's hand reassuringly. " if you want, we could try it. i think that i can trust you. "

Weakness, getting weaker, hungrier by the day. Akaza blinked, slowly, the soft feeling of Kyojuro’s warm fingers sending pleasant tingles to his body. This man was too nice to him, like a burning sunshine, something Akaza can never feel upon his skin. His legs were crossed, sitting in front of Kyojuro, the flame hashira he nearly slaughtered when he was his old self, the monster who only wanted to get stronger. 

Akaza swallowed, saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought of blood and flesh between his teeth. Trust him? But what if he can’t stop himself, what if he rips  the rest of Kyojuro’s torn body to pieces. He was crippled enough with his missing eye and aching flesh and bones. Tattooed hands turned, taking in the man’s hands into his own, brushing along the warmness of the man’s skin. A gentle pet as he lifted his head, golden eyes round and wide, staring at the Flame Hashira. 

“Blood can ease the hunger.” He admitted, tongue brushing over his pale lips before his lips turned into a thin line. “I don’t trust myself, it’s been too long since I last ate. Being here is enough to make my guts twist in hunger and I don’t want to hurt you again.” He sighed, emotions on his sleeves, clear sadness in his expression. The hunger exhausted him, in a way he didn’t know possible, or was it the emotions? The weight of his regrets, his endless carnage. Will he ever be able to stop? Stop without ending burned by the sun.

Fingers brought Kyojuro’s hand up, golden eyes making eye contact with the male. “But if you insist that we try, you have to stop me if I go too far. Cut my head of if you must.” He swallowed, his pale lips pressed down against the back of Kyojuro’s hand. A soft kiss on warm skin,  skin so fragile that it could easily break if he bit down into those tiny veins underneath. 

leisurely reiju pours a cup of tea for herself , holding the glass elegantly and with the proper table manners , partaking in a small helping before returning it once more to the surface of the  table .   ❛❛ i’m curious .  do you intend to continue staring at me from afar , or will you take a seat and join me ?  ❜❜

   Law has never liked places like this, criminal run establishments pretending to be civilised. He’s always felt more at ease in dive bars or shady back alleys. There the dirty, rotten truth of people is made clear. Here the shit has been painted gold and you’re told it’s high society.

   He’s already noticed a couple prominent arms dealers politely sipping tea with a financial fraud genius. Even a few murderers-for-hire are laughing it up like they don’t kill people for a living. Of course, Trafalgar Law is just as guilty as them. A provider of illegally gotten organs waiting for his buyers. He figured they’d be the only people of interest to him tonight but the pink-haired beauty a table away has proven that assumption wrong.

   The Surgeon of Death can’t stop his stare, golden eyes watching with a mix of caution and fascination. He keeps his head lowered as he leans back in his chair, the brim of his hat shadowing his gaze. Law hopes it is enough to hide his stare but the clink of her tea cup settling into it’s saucer precedes a comment that tells him he wasn’t as stealthy as he presumed. He sighs, shoulders sagging in a moment of defeat. The doctor raises his head, his intense eyes no longer hidden.

   “Starin’ is it?” Law hums, swinging his foot off the table. He stands, hands in his pockets as he stalks over to the seat across from her. “I’d call it threat assessing.”

   A hand slips from his pocket, tattooed fingers gripping the chair to pull it out before he drops into it. Law leans forwards, resting an elbow on the table and his chin on the palm. A wicked smirk spreads across his features.

There are times, when we suddenly stop, abruptly. When we dance heartily, hum to a tune of a favourite memory, flip through the pages of an album... and we stop without us realising, mostly staring into nothingness.

This abrupt stop is what takes my heart away. A sudden stop makes everything so different, putting lives into a frenzy and yet brings an odd stillness. I stop sometimes, abruptly; some days when I spot someone who resembles a lost soul, on others when I hear an old song that once made me smile, on many when I pass some roads, on some when I stumble upon pieces of my poetry, but have none to recite to.

Loss is quite abrupt too. It never comes with a warning, and crashes onto us like it expected us to know of it. Many a days, one loses family, friends, love and what not... But there are some, when one loses himself/herself. Realises that he has become vacant, with a steely look of death in the eye.

The worst part is that this loss happens and occurs not once but quite a few times in an entire lifetime. It leaves one so broken, with wounds so deep, those that the tears of phoenix too can't heal. It could only take the strength of the Phoenix to pull this man out of the dungeons of his own mind.

Loss isn't what makes one lose their senses, the abruptness of it does. It is so unexpected, that the impact of it shatters the person. It makes one beg for what they deserve, even making them settle for that which they don't. A sudden blow to closed wounds could make them hurt, and that's what one moment of abrupt loss does; it rewinds the mix tape of all that the soul once endured.

Could things be anymore complicated than the euphoria of the prettiest moments and the emptiness of the most abrupt good byes, hitting together at the same time ?

» send me ↕ + your muse’s height (Still Accepting!)

  how many nights had it been? the silence filling the room, the moons rays beaming to her room, the lack of sleep had yet to be showing upon her face. each day fatima made sure she was in tip top shape, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be a disappointment, to let her father down. however, the tough façade was slowly being at ease. there was a pain within she couldn’t describe, or perhaps it was a need for affirmation.

    she knew not to question him, how she never wanted to incur his wrath. so fearsome.

  there had yet to be anything happening, perhaps a dull day. was he seeking an adventure or perhaps another plot for something? it was hard to tell what he was thinking. her feet slowly approached her father on a cold night, her head down, unable to get herself to look at him.

  his expression always appeared to be stoic, fatima always knew that the way he showed his love and care wasn’t like other families. warm hugs, even forehead kisses...things she’s seen other children receive from their parent/s; she did not desire it, just his praise and head pats were enough. “father,” her voice called out, it took another moments of silence to speak up, she couldn’t keep him waiting.

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     The Warlord’s growled scolding drew a split second of a playful smirk from Lyra, having been caught, but she promptly covered it up with her usual serious expression for discretion’s sake. He was only passing by her at the doorway; a brief moment allotted for him to share his thoughts with her while people weren’t looking at them, still carrying on their conversations amid the smoke in the room.

     She raised her body off the door frame where she had been leaning lightly, and rested two fingers on his chest for a second to stop him before he could continue on, answering him quietly while looking out over the room,  “I wouldn’t have to eye fuck you if you gave me what I came here for. You’re not the only one who’s busy around here...” she trailed, finally raising her skylight eyes to him, stern and impatient.

     So wrap up your business with these people and let’s get a move on... Lyra was a busy woman; she couldn’t waste a night waiting for Crocodile if he wasn’t going to amuse her --- she had paperwork to do, amphibious landings to plan, pirate crews to destroy, qualifications to approve of... all kinds of productive things that she could be doing right now, instead of waiting for some man to give her his dick for thirty minutes. She wouldn’t have come tonight if she knew he’d keep her waiting like this... It made her feel like some foolish young girl begging for attention, and she did not like that one bit. That wasn’t Lyra.

     Lyra was not some side distraction for him in between talking with these murky underworlders. She was the main event.

@abrupturn​ asked: Reverse!kyo grabs reverse!hakuji from behind. Lips inches from his ear. " Working hard as always? I adore that blind dedication of yours, you know. It's a shame all your efforts are futile. "

A full wave of dread coursed throughout Hakuji’s body at the words. Blue eyes wide in shock, as hands gripped tightly along the handles of his nichirin knuckles. Upper Moon Three, right behind him, right after he killed a lower ranked demon. Had he seen it all? Did he come here to finish him off after he exhausted his strength? That would be horrible of him, taking advantage of his exhausted stage.

Hakuji had enough energy to breath in, before he turned and used one of his snow breathing techniques to ram his fist straight into the demon’s face. He hoped it would at least crush his face momentarily into a pancake for scaring the living shit out of him. “A demon like yourself would never understand my dedication towards protecting others! All you do is kill over and over again blindly!” He yelled and argued at the demon, not caring he was inches away from the tall creature.