#soul Eater fanfic

[illubean]

Mayhaps....

Death The Kid x a reader that's a witch pretending to be a meister? Like Kim from the manga :>

DTK with a Witch!S/o

Characters: Death the Kid Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

YES YES YES YES MY FIRST SOUL EATER REQUESTS AND FOR ONE OF MY FAVS TOO .·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·.

Warnings: none

while posing as a meister, it is insanely hard to find people on the same wavelength as you considering the fact you're a witch

the one thing that Kid didn't understand about you was the fact he wasn't able to see your soul

he stayed wary of you, knowing that something wasn't right

but after a while of getting to know you and having no troubles, he forgets all about it

maybe his power is messed up because he's not a fully developed shinigami yet or something

he actually ends up growing pretty fond of you

he's so obvious about it and oblivious to you at the same time

soooo Liz had to spill the beans and boom you're a thing now

after a while of being with you he remembers how he can't see your soul and asks about it

you offer a long silence, which worries the young shinigami

and when you tell him the truth he is conflicted

yes the entire point of the DWMA was to rid the world of kishins and witches who have the instinct to destroy but you were his significant other

you hadn't shown the slightest signs of giving in to those so called instincts and had been nothing but good to your peers

and if your plan was to destroy the DWMA from the inside out, why were you being so open with him right now?

but when it comes down to it, Kid loves and trusts you

when the rest of the students at the DWMA find out he is quick to protect you from any haters

Liz actually flips her shit after finding out you were a witch this entire time but Kid would literally argue with her until the day he dies if it meant defending you

and when he says something about it to Lord Death he's like "oh I knew that"

and Kid is annoyed that his own father didn't say anything

but after this his trust in you deepens, knowing that his dad also trusts you enough to let you attend the DWMA and walk around Death City freely

if anything this new knowledge just strengthens your relationship :3

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 4 -

SE Soul 'Eater' Evans - Holiday Light Show

Summary: After losing a bet, Soul is 'forced' to take you on a date to a holiday light show.

Warnings: tsundere!soul, no pre-established relationship, angst, reader has a crush on soul, pity date, fluff

"Aren't you ready yet?" Soul scoffed, lounging on your couch.

"Almost!" you called from the bedroom, nervously grooming your hair and smoothing out your outfit. "Just one second!"

The albino rolled his eyes, groaning something about how all women take hours to get ready. "C'mon already! I wanna get this over with."

Not at all disheartened by his complaining, you stepped out into the hall, beaming, waiting for his response. "How do I look?"

Behind the scenes, Soul was taken back. He'd never seen you in much else apart from your daily uniform and athletic clothes. Though he could never admit it to you or anyone else, you cleaned up nicely. "Fine. Now can we please go? I'm hungry."

Of course we can!" you flashed him a sweet smile, grabbing your purse and stepping toward the door, opening it for him. "After you."

Soul ducked out of the doorframe, not bothering to wait for you to do the same before descending the stairs of your building. This would be a very long night.

-----

You could hardly contain your excitement as the two of you neared the Death City Square. Billions of neon lights polluted the evening fog, making the sight visible for miles. Suddenly, you spotted vendors lining the streets near the entrance of the square, prompting you to grab Soul's hand enthusiastically. "Hey, look! Food trucks, you said you were hungry right?"

"Yeah," he responded nonchalantly, silently rigid under your soft touch. "Practically starving."

"C'mon," you chirped pulling him along. "How about you pick!"

"Obviously," he scoffed, cradling his chin in his hand, weighing his options. "If I'm gonna pay, I should pick the place."

"You were gonna pay?" you glanced up at him in awe.

"Well, yeah?" he retorted, deciding on a humble burger stand. "It wouldn't be cool for me to pay for myself and not pay for you too."

"I guess so..." you mused, giggling.

Walking up to the stand, Soul approached the window, giving the attendant his order, prompting you to do the same. "$15.32, please." The attendant said, scribbling down the order before handing off the ticket. Your date fished out a $20 out of his wallet and turned to hand it over, only to find the woman dropping change into your hand.

"What the-?" he asked, confused. "Did you pay?" Grinning, you nodded and dropped the change loosely into your purse.

"It's the least I could do." you answered, reaching up to the window to grab your drinks, before handing him his and stepping out of line.

"But why? I said I'd do it." he protested, taking the bag of food and carrying it to find a place to sit. "You made me look so uncool."

"I'm sorry, Soul." you apologized genuinely. "I only meant to be nice. Like I said, it's the least I could do."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, taking a bite of his burger, which in turn, caused it to leak mustard on his shirt. "Ah damn..."

You giggled, fishing a napkin out of the bag and leaning forward to wipe it away. "I know you don't want to be here, the least I can do is buy you dinner for your troubles."

His eyes widened as he paused and lowered his food. "You know about the bet?" You nodded, taking a fry into your mouth. "For how long?"

"Since the day after you asked me. Black Star told Kid, and Kid told Liz and she told Patti and Patti told me." You explained nonchalantly.

"Does...it bother you?" he asked, guilt filling his stomach fasted than any street food could.

"A little, but I promised myself I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." you confessed. "Just because it's not a real date, doesn't mean I can't enjoy it."

Your words had officially ruined Soul's appetite as he wrapped his burger back up and dropped it in the bag. "Sorry, guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought. I'll have it later." You nodded in acknowledgment. "You should hurry up and eat though, I wanna go see the lights." With that, you scarfed down your remaining food and disregarded of your trash before heading towards the entrance.

The entryway was a beautiful arch, decorated with twinkling lights that tangled every which way. Looking down into the exhibit, you were wonderstuck, until you suddenly felt a hand slip into yours. Glancing down, you found your bare hand enveloped in Soul's gloved one. Without meeting your gaze, he could feel your staring and responded. "Look's pretty big in there. I'm not gonna risk you wandering off and getting lost." Not wanting to ruin the moment, you simply nodded with a smile.

The light show itself was a maze of sorts, a twisting, winding tunnel of lights strung between trees and structures. Some lights blinked, and some softly faded into other colors. Others simply stayed the same. A few topiaries littered the path, each wrapped up with twinkling yellow stars. Needless to say, you were in awe of the sight, giggling and squealing with delight, dragging Soul to each new thing and forcing him to take photos of you.

Despite himself, the sythe was...actually having a nice time. The scenery was pretty, the weather was to his liking, and though he'd dreaded having to spend time with you all week, he found himself smiling, watching you dart around so excitedly. You were like a kid in a candy store. It was almost adorable.

As all good things do, the night eventually began to draw to a close, the chill beginning to bite and most visitors long gone. Soon the lights would be powered off for the night. It was time to go home. "C'mon," he said grumpily. "I'm about to freeze my ass off."

You turned back to him, slumping your shoulders. "Can't we stay a little longer?"

"No," he stayed firm, digging his hands into his pockets. "We got school tomorrow and it's already late. 'Sides, if I'm not home by midnight, Maka'll probably beat me to death." You caved, knowing he was right, and jogged up to his side.

"You're right." you sighed, bundling up into your coat. "Anyways, thanks for taking me out, Soul. Even if you didn't have much of a choice. I had a lot of fun."

The boy went rigid for a moment, before relaxing again with a faint smile.

"No problem. I guess it wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be." His taunts were finally beginning to wear down your chipper mood if only a bit.

"I'm sorry you didn't have much fun." you confessed, breath caught in your throat as the two of you walked. "I didn't think you would, but I was hoping I could find a way to get you to like spending time with me."

Soul paused for a moment, stuck in his tracks. "So, wait..." he began, swallowing a lump of feelings. "You've just been pretending to be all bubbly just to get me in a better mood this whole time?"

"Mostly," you answered bluntly. "I really did like going out with you, but it was kind of exhausting having fun for the both of us. I'm glad it's over." you laughed half heartedly.

Oh man, did he feel guilty. Taking someone who really likes you, only to be a jerk the whole night? So uncool. As you began to walk again, his hand snuck into yours and pulled you back. "Hey, wait," he protested, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "I uh...I actually had a lot of fun with you, (Y/N)." Worldlessly, you tilted your head, prompting him to continue. "I guess...I just never really saw you that way and knowing you had this huge crush on me kinda put me off, ya know?"

You nodded in acknowledgment. You knew how you could be. "I know I tend to come on a little strong. It's just difficult for me to disguise my emotions. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

"Well, listen," he started again, keeping your fingers in his grasp while itching the back of his neck with his free hand. "I haven't been very cool tonight..." he gulped, glancing away from you, clearly embarrassed. "How about we try again next week? I'll take you on a real date. Just so you know I'm a cool guy. Deal?"

Your eyes glossed over as you tried to hold in your tears. "I-I'd love that." you stammered, sniffling a bit. Swallowed by emotion, you stepped forward and hugged him, burring your face in his coat. To your delight, you could feel his arm wrap around you in return.

"And just for the record, you're little trick worked." he pulled back, flashing his signature sharky grin.

"What do you mean?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"Somehow you got me to like spending time with you."

[cannibal-nightmares]

Trust Fall: Euclid - (Chapter 1)

Stein has a complete breakdown at Spirit's door.

Writing stuff like this helps me defrag. Such is my river. This takes place sometime after anime canon, more or less. It's loose in that regard. I didn't intend for this to be a multi-chapter project, but I think it flows better this way. I also haven't been able to touch art since I've been stuck on this piece, so breaking it up will help in that.

Soul Eater - Stein x Spirit (ship is up to interpretation, SFW) // hurt+comfort, actually schizophrenic author, schizophrenic Stein, psychosis, panic attacks, paranoia, non-verbal Stein Word count - 3,322 -- [AO3 link]

As familiar and cradling as the dark quiet was, the short memory of a cadence echoed in his ears until he realized it hadn’t been a part of his dream and had him gasp in surprise. Two raps and a delayed third had stirred Death Scythe from his sleep that night. A pause, sitting up now, the sound blurred in his recounting over and over in deciphering where it had come from, what it meant, who it could have belonged to. Why was he awake again? Spirit found his face with his palm and blinked into the room, the window shining faint blue with moonglow, sighing and recollecting consciousness.

Someone was knocking at the door.

The weapon made polite and tossed on a pair of pyjama pants before padding out through the apartment to the entrance. If he were any more present, he would have flipped on some of the light switches along the way for whoever it was he was about to greet, but the nicety was left in the sheets.

Too, he forgot to even look through the peephole before fumbling the door open.

“Yeah?”

Now he was awake.

“Franken?”

At the threshold was a drooping figure of a man in a tired labcoat, his countenance evading sight, though what could be caught of his pale irises contrasted back and forth from his deep circles to pin-dot pupils. His eyes darted amongst the floor in the area around Spirit’s ankles, and Death Scythe had an instinct to comment on his unsteady swaying before his guest nearly collapsed into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to catch him, taking the embrace in like a parent holding a distraught child.

“Hey, hey…!” He cooed with worry startlingly frying his voice. “What is it?”

The response returned was smaller than anything Albarn had ever heard before.

“I need your help, Spirit.”

“Help with…” Death Scythe started, but tightened his arms grip as the desperate man went nearly dead-weight over his feet. Exhausted laughter stifled only by breathiness and the fabric of a night shirt escaped the meister’s lungs. “Wh– Hey, talk to me–” Spirit stammered, then recentered as the shattered professor wedged between them one hand to cover his own mouth and the other to tightly shield his eyes. His shoulders jerked as the tormented giggling no longer had a way to escape.

His partner had managed shenanigans before to weasel his way into Death Scythes's apartment for reasons to reveal themselves, but there was no doubt in his mind now that this was not the case. Still, he was admittingly afraid to move as the doctor was convulsing choked wheezes in his hold.

Spirit gently dipped his body to take a look at the professor’s face, but, as they separated, Franken just curled more into himself at the waist, his shoulders hunched more and more in an assured attempt to get smaller. He was tense down to every muscle; Spirit kept a calm hand to the meister's upper arm and couldn't help but acknowledge the high-voltage anxiety course through his own throat.

“Let's get inside, Stein,” Albarn gently pressed him in, granting a few shuffled steps, but barely as the weapon shifted to close the door behind them did Franken's stressed chuckling become audible again, stumbling one more step inward and going weak in the knees. Spirit gasped and made haste to catch him, but couldn't keep them both from collapsing to the floor, jammed to where the perimeter met the wall. His laughter was starting to sound less like giggling and more like a struggle to breathe, prompting Albarn to circle around low to meet his front. The strain in his squeezed-shut eyes reflected something beyond pain and annoyance with it; Stein death-gripped one side of his brow with a flexed hand, the other he met forcefully with the heel of his palm once, twice–

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Spirit heard a tremble in his own tone. He put his hand on top of the assaulting wrist, but didn’t make a strict attempt to hold it back. With his left, he swept heavy hair behind his ear out from the professor's face.

“None of that, dear. You're safe, Stein. You're safe with me.”

With the singular beat of pause did reality come crashing: The DWMA’s greatest meister had scouted and crumpled at Albarn's doorstep. Spirit had only once seen Stein in such a near-drastic state before, but he otherwise often kept aloof and to himself out of what he perceived as self-preservation. What brought him here now, Spirit didn't know, and that unsettled him like a chilled breeze warning storms. It was his immediate reaction to ask questions, but he could only figure how that was going to play out. Franken muted his laugh with his chin to his sternum.

“Stein,” Spirit decided clearly, his jaw trembling. “Take a second, Stein. Can you hear me?” Albarn adjusted so that he could sit more comfortably close before him, rubbing his partner's shoulder soothingly, hoping the touch would ground him and grant him the ability to listen.

“I'm sure your ears are ringing,” he hesitated, fighting the want to trail off out of uncertainty. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

The doctor grew impossibly smaller, his throat hitching a few times until his stifled laughter started to sound too uncomfortably like hyperventilation.

He finally let go of his face to take Spirit’s shoulder in search of panicked balance, each inhale becoming shorter than the last.

"Hey, come on now, Stein, listen to your breathing. Here, sit upright." Spirit hoped his tone sounded encouraging and not pressuring, but it was getting more and more difficult to compartmentalize his anxiety.

"Match me, Stein." He squeezed his shoulder with a confident hand. "Feel that?"

Franken kept his eyes strained closed, his head turned deep into himself and away. A short inhale, a shaky but gentle fist-tap to his forehead, a held breath, and at last forced a deep exhale. His right hand remained clutched onto Spirit’s shoulder. An inhale, a giggle, a flinch away, a held breath… He nodded to Spirit’s ask. Exhale, slowly…

A few more times, and the room fell quiet.

“What's happened, Stein?” Spirit released a sigh to himself, eyes long-since watering.

The meister didn’t seem to dare move from his awkward pose. The question was partly rhetorical, but attempting to answer seemed to gag him, his brow twitching in reflexes. A good moment, and his mouth opened to reply but was chased by his left hand to clasp it shut and a minute though frantic headshake. Eventually, that same hand shifted to further blind his vision as if he could see through his own eyelids.

 All of this, he seemed afraid to let go of Spirit.

“That’s okay, Stein. Take your time.”

Death Scythe breathed deep, himself, blinking away tears of shock seeing his ever-strong meister at a loss for words, seemingly as though he had a gun to his head to keep from speaking. To say it was all uncharacteristic would have been a massive understatement.

“Let me help you up.” Albarn said softly. “You can sleep here, I know you need it.” He corrected himself too late with error lumping in his throat. “You look like you need it.”

He shifted only a little in preparation to help him stand, but as Stein accepted the support on his other side, mania neutralized his sheer strength against the exhaustion of fear and Spirit very suddenly realized his current position under his grip.

Death Scythe could have sworn he started to hear a faint yet piercing static-electric ringing.

The difference between them being he was able to ignore it.

His hands having shifted under and near Stein's elbows and forearms, Franken still with one to Spirit's shoulder, the weapon cleared his throat in transition.

“You ready?”

Stein didn't move but a slight pained spasm in his countenance. Spirit didn't, either, but he watched closely in the dim dark for any hint at a micro cue, as if a falling lock of hair could speak more to him. Further pause, and finally Franken gave a small nod followed by a quiet but soothing yet threatening and disturbed shushing to himself. Albarn wasn't sure if he should comment on it. 

“I… Didn’t say anything, dear.” He brought his volume down, anyways.

“Not...” Stein gave a short sigh to the sound of his own voice, then very quickly hummed as if he were distracting from a mistake. “They…”

Spirit saw how instantaneous he was getting worked up again. “Hey, listen to me: You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.” He choked, a misplaced anger in his eyes as he finally met Death Scythe’s in a spontaneous contact, then let a glint retreat him back to cornered despair as the focus was more disarming than anticipated, very clearly catching the sight of tears in his partner’s eyes.

“It’s not…” Stein’s throat hitched again, panic in his pupils, suddenly stuck in an unfaltering stare. “I–”

“I’m in no rush.” Spirit was bold to interrupt, sighing in hoping his meister would reflect him, would feel his soul attempt to calm. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I am here for you.”

A beat.

“Spirit?”

“Yes, Stein?”

Franken almost couldn’t believe the noise over his tongue. “Spirit, is this actually happening?”

Albarn had started to wonder the same thing, but his position made him the last person to be in denial. The question was nearly too ambiguous to answer directly.

“You’re in my apartment. It’s late at night. You’re wearing your favourite lab coat... I’m here to help you through this, whatever you may need.”

Stein started to half-narrow his eyes and turned his head to face the room, his line of sight still locked to his partner momentarily before snapping it away and flicking amongst the dark. The weapon hoped to Death he hadn’t said the wrong thing, though it seemed the professor’s muscles were finally untensing, even if just a little.

“Come on. I’ll help you to the guest room.”

Franken accepted his partner’s grasp with a squeeze under his palm, unlooking, and Spirit didn’t have to think twice about the weight he was about to hoist up, his foot kicking his hip closer to balance them both as they made it to their feet. What took Albarn by surprise, then, was Stein’s hurried instinct to hide his face into the weapon’s collar; he could feel within his meister the irregularities of natural strength and circumstantial physical weakness fighting against each other, his limbs shaking with effort.

“Sorry, I–” Stein forced a chuff, starting to pull away, only to yelp as if something caught his attention, returning himself to Spirit’s chest with a grimace, groaning scared annoyances followed by hushed manic giggling. He brought his more readily-free hand through his hair so that his fingers were around the stem of his screw between his ear and the head of the bolt, pressing his skull like keeping something from escaping.

“Shh, it’s okay, Stein. I’m here.”

He enveloped the junior inward, brushing his hand across his back like comforting a boy afraid of the dark. In his meister’s convulsions, though, Spirit was beginning to admit to himself the struggle of keeping himself together: Five whole minutes into this intervened altercation and he found himself unsure of where to redirect his self-doubt. No, “uncertainty” wasn’t the word, but so starkly seeing the contrast… Before him was the otherwise most fortified man Spirit knew, hiding from the whims of his own mind in the arms of his weapon; the reversed symmetry in the inverted mirror was truthfully overwhelming.

But, as he had before, Spirit took the role of guidance with unhesitated grace. If Stein wasn’t giving up, neither was he.

“Do you want me to lead you?”

Franken deepened himself, flexing his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Despite the different shade of distress, he counted through a breathing exercise and Spirit waited.

In, two, three, four…

As he considered his patience, Albarn took accord.

Hold, two, three, four, five, six…

In the rows did something stumbling find another: A hushed and scrambled cacophony of channels flipping on a television set fell steep with both hands gripping back on a yoke, the descent mere inches from the utmost height to the floor, like tripping over an edge in a nightmare… The other, a boat on a black sea with the mainsail long-pulled taught against unprecedented but not unexpected winds... Intangible and unlikely otherwise, the two came together in the image of a dream and all became but a tolerable buzz, a soothing pendulum...

Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

Strain built intentionally tight in Spirit’s chest, but, with the exhale, tension he wasn’t even aware of released from his jaw and neck, his head a bit dizzy with the new air and the familiar scent of his meister. He continued to pause for several more rounds, several more heartbeats, the grip in Stein’s fidgeting lessening in white.

Spirit took his right hand and found his own shoulder where his meister still had not let go. With the smallest smile, Albarn lowered himself in gesture.

“Keep your eyes closed if you need to. I will guide you.”

Stein nodded. Shakily but earnest, he nodded.

The weapon considered prying Franken’s hand off of him to more comfortably take him by the wrist, but instead let his own fingertips suggest that his hand was fine right where it was, turning away and having the placement shift to follow suit. Stein couldn’t help an anxious muttering in the readjustment that had Spirit raise an eye to his attention. He concluded it was all self-soothing. Stein looked so little in his frame.

A few shuffled paces, they made it across the living room to the hall and the spare bedroom door, but a couple clicks of involuntary ratcheting caused Franken to yank back on his escort with wild eyes snapped open in a sudden shock.

“Stein!” Spirit yelped.

“Shhsh! No, no, we can’t– You can’t–” He brought both hands to the back of his neck, elbows almost touching in the middle.

Spirit jammed his nerves into a lower gear. “Slow down, Stein.” He tried to move non-threateningly to alter his focus, but the panic was becoming intoxicating. “What is it?”

“They’re waiting for us, you’ll see, you’ll figure it out. You’ll know.” Stein’s flickering eyes were just as they were when he showed up to the apartment: Frantic, lost, certain of something displaced. He flinched, he shushed, he giggled false reassurances as an apology for his child-like fear.

“Inside?” Spirit had to retain a quiver. “Did your soul perception tell you that?”

Stein went eerily quiet, his mouth just barely open. His lips met again when he allowed a tiny nod, his pindot pupils unchanging in the confirmation.

Albarn forced an amused huff with a playful smirk. “What are the odds a death scythe wouldn't be able to defend himself?” From his forearm that neared the door, an arching blade flashed out from his ulna to his wrist.

Something wild crossed Stein's face, but, this time, Spirit couldn't place what it was; maybe it was the shift in energy in the now-unwavering eye contact, the desperate nod that followed, the microexpression of curling-upward lips. Franken reached out to return his balance to Spirit.

The weapon turned the knob and pushed in–a bit awkward with his scythe unsheathed–half-expecting the darkness inside to spill out and swallow them whole, but, of course, the room was exactly as it were, save the faint luminescence of the moon. They crept inside, Stein mentally clearing the space from one corner to the next, and the blade was put away with a slight metallic scraping. Spirit threw back the comforter of the bed and circled on his heel to suggest his partner to sit on the edge, his static-electric unease gradually ebbing further from its peaks. He made sure to remain patient in his movements, kneeling to help Franken untie his shoes.

“When’s the last time you slept, hon?”

Stein watched Albarn’s meticulous fingers, but Spirit couldn’t tell if he was observing them as an anchor or tearing them apart like a riddle.

“I keep having nightmares.” He murmured, his voice like that of a child confessing to trouble.

Death Scythe pretended that was a conclusive response with a hum, though genuinely surprised and relieved he had an answer at all. He held the junior’s calf while loosening the tongue of his left shoe, slipping it off and setting it aside.

“I’ll…” Stein spoke again. “I’m not sure this isn’t one of them.”

Spirit looked up from his task once he made a pair, expecting to find the professor’s gaze, but it was a thousand yards away like a bullet that had long gone straight through him.

“Franken…” he said just to make noise. Albarn took his hand that rested in his lap and met his height, closing his eyes and sighed resolutely. He touched his forehead to his meister’s and brought his left hand to the side of his neck only thereafter. Stein jerked at the touch, but seemed to then lean into Spirit’s confidence of trust.

“You’re here with me. Nightmare or not, I am here to get you through this; you've made it all this way.” He stepped back to meet his eye contact. “You don't have to fight this alone, I'm here with you. I am here for you.”

Spirit's rambling went on a bit too long to prevent a trembling in his voice, but he didn't think twice in pressing through to convey his sincerity. He knew talking to Stein in that moment was like talking through a TV screen, but hoped to Death something slipped over the cross-reception to sell him worth-while reassurances.

Franken found himself in a different kind of daze, watching not the stitches fray apart, but the sutures sew together. This time, the eye contact torn away seemed more of an acknowledgement than a retreat, though still unfocused on anything in their plane. Spirit slipped his hands away and stood, returning, then, kind fingertips to the inside hem of the doctor's lab coat, but his wrist was met with a startled grab.

“You want to keep your coat on?” Albarn plainly asked aloud.

Stein shakily agreed with a met haze. “It's keeping me here.”

A softness passed over Spirit. “Alright, dear.” He met his meister's bicep gently in gesture, and Franken awkwardly complied to tuck his legs up onto the mattress and let his body sink into the plushness of the sheets. The beat prior, they both realized, would be the last time their eyes would meet that night.

“I don't know what decision led you to come to me, but I am grateful for your faith.” Spirit brought the blanket over Stein's torso and up to his collar, then leaned in to kiss him smally on the temple. “I will be just in the other room if you need me, Stein. And you can come to me for anything.”

The scythe returned upright and stepped towards the hall, his watch worriedly lingering over the junior who huddled the comforter to his chin.

“Do you want the door open?”

He didn't answer.

Spirit dipped his half in a nod after a moment.

“Good night, Stein.”

Death Scythe left the door cracked and took a few paces to stop dead-center in the living room. His ears were ringing. How long had they been ringing? The blackness of the corners of the walls sighed with a heaviness released from the weapon’s chest, and he stumbled a single step for balance while a cry unexpectedly welled up and out of his throat. He met his hands clasped to his mouth to keep from making noise, but nothing could stop the convulsions in his shoulders.

[takeyourcyanide]

Forest

TRIGGER WARNING: Technical Self-Harm

Ao3

Word Count: 3 165

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn (Mentions of Lord Death & Marie Mjolnir)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Canon-Typical Violence, etc.

Summary: Spirit walks in on Stein cutting his arm with his scalpel, shenanigans ensue.

Note(s): I suck at summaries. Also, this is the most hopeful thing you’re ever getting from me. Enjoy it while you can. I also hope this naturally progresses and isn’t sort of random anyway I’m rambling

Stein pressed the shining blade of one of his numerous scalpels into the plushness of his arm, dragging it through his flesh, beads of blood spilling from the wound as he hissed at the sharp, stinging pain.

He placed his bloodied scalpel down onto a steel tray, grabbing one of his many small, glass slides, allowing the crimson liquid to drip down onto its clear frame. He slid the slide over the surface of the wound, collecting all that he could, before placing the slide under his microscope.

A childlike and curious glint appeared in his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips, ultimately replacing his typically flat expression as he zoomed in through the lens onto the blood - an entirely new world appearing before his eyes as he intently observed each cell that made up the ever-flowing liquid on his left arm, as he had forgotten to bandage the injury.

The furious nerves in his arm shot pained shocks throughout the limb, of which he ignored as he giggled elatedly to himself, bouncing his right leg up and down in a repetitive motion.

He, too, paid no mind to the gentle flickering of his desk lamp, nor to the rubbery pitter patter of Spirit’s slick, black dress shoes right outside of his bedroom door.

“Hey, Stein, Marie mentioned some carnival she wanted to go to, if you wanna come with. We’re all gonna go in, like, a couple hours,” Spirit stood in the doorway, eyeing Stein’s hunched over body with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“Why are you wearing shoes in the house? That’ll track dirt inside,” Stein sounded discernibly distracted, as though he wasn’t truly present in the room with Spirit.

The weapon sighed to himself, sparing quick glances around the dimly lit bedroom, one of which carried a grim air, impatiently tapping his foot as his eyes spotted the red trickling down from the meister’s pale arm.

“What happened?!” He gasped, making quick strides towards Stein, lifting his arm carefully. Stein offered Spirit a half-hearted glare, his arm taut underneath his partner’s ministrations.

“It’s nothing. I just had to cut myself in order to acquire a blood sample,” Stein elucidated in his habitual monotone, his face returning to a blank state, as he pointed in the direction of the slide underneath the microscope. “I wasn’t in the mood for jabbing myself with a needle.”

“So, you decided to slit your arm open..?” Spirit huffed, shrugging his shoulders whilst shaking his head. He reminded Stein of a disappointed and annoyed, or even mildly perturbed parent. “Where do you keep your bandages? I know you have some,”

Stein lifted his finger in the direction of one of his dresser drawers, staring at his weapon-partner with less of a pout, and more an expression of inquisition.

Spirit trudged over with gauze pads,

a roll of fuzzy, cotton bandages, and some tape, placing them onto the wooden desk as he grabbed onto Stein and his chair, pulling him nearer. He took a seat on the very edge of the boy’s bed, and began wrapping the wound in the comfortable coverings.

“I could’ve done that myself, you know,” Stein stated, yet allowed his partner to nurse the gash.

“Well, you weren’t,” he replied, pursing his lips in an almost passive aggressive manner. “I would’ve point ointment on it, but I figured I’d hardly get away with doing this, so you can do that yourself later, how about that?”

Stein nodded his head, quietly watching Spirit as his movements soon came to a predictable halt.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to the redhead.

“Yeah,” the scythe had barely managed to hear him.

“Do you want to see?” Spirit had stood, looking rather unsure of what action he should take next.

“See what?”

“The blood under the microscope.”

Spirit grimaced in slight revulsion, though that did not take away from the pang of curiosity pricking away at his brain as he longingly ogled at the microscope.

“Sure,” he relinquished his pride, raising his arms in the air, his hands falling with a soft slap on his thighs.

Stein, despite his face remaining stagnant, was inwardly smirking victoriously, as he rolled his chair away from the desk, making room for his weapon.

“Okay, fine, it’s cool,” he sulked as he glanced between the lens and the smug male beside him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you cut into yourself,” Spirit declared awfully sternly as he held his pointer finger in the air, now facing Stein.

“You won’t let me cut into others, so when I inevitably start cutting into myself, that’s also a problem? It’s my body, is it not? Am I not permitted to do as I please with it?” Stein frustratedly began, despite his voice remaining unaffected. You could only see it in his weary, jaded eyes.

A harsh sigh shook Spirit’s frame as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest in an authoritarian manner, peering downwards as he spoke to Stein.

‘And of course he’d look down on me,’ Stein thought to himself. ‘They all believe themselves to be above me in some way, don’t they?’

“Well, yes, Stein, it is your body, but harming yourself isn’t a good idea,” Stein gazed directly into Spirit’s eyes with fervor, causing the hair on the back of the weapon’s neck to rise with caution.

“Is curiosity now a vice I must overcome, just like everything else? Just like myself? You know, given the fact that you seem to think everything is a sin,” he bit back at Spirit. “I’m not just some misguided child you need to set straight onto the ‘right path.’ And what gave you or anyone else the right to decide what was considered ‘right’ and ‘wrong,’ anyway?” He rose from his seat, standing in front of Spirit with a simultaneously empty and threatening expression present on his visage. “I will do what I want, and you will not get in my way, Spirit.”

“You can’t just make up your own rules,” Stein’s countenance only intensified as Spirit continued onwards.

“Is that not what Lord Death has done?”

“W-“ he stuttered. “Well, that’s different-“

“Why?” Stein interjected, crossing his own arms.

“What do you mean ‘why’? Isn’t it obvious? It’s Lord death.”

“Whether or not someone is supposedly a god means nothing to me.”

“How could you say that? Don’t tell me you really mean that…”

“Why is it that you mindlessly follow every order he gives you, everything he says without question?” Stein stepped forward, his face only inches apart from Spirit’s shaken one.

“Becau-“

“Do you even know what it is that you’re fighting for? Why it is that you’re fighting for it?” He tilted his head, his tone almost condescending. “Or were you just told that this was what must be fought for? Are you just a dog that follows every command from its master? You simply slaughter any being you are told to without questioning a single thing, only to get mad when I dissect any living organism.”

“But that’s different. The one’s we kill are evil, they can’t be redeemed-“

“How do you know that? How do you know what’s ‘evil’ and what is ‘not’? Why do you not question a thing?”

“Just because you don’t have a sense of morality doesn’t mean we all can’t have one,” Spirit furrowed his brows in aggravation.

“You’re missing my point, Spirit.”

“What point?!”

“I don’t care that you have a moral compass. It’s only natural that hurting your fellow man would make you feel guilty. It’s evolutionarily beneficial to feel as such.”

“Then what’s your point?”

“You don’t question anything. You don’t question why you feel guilty. You don’t question why society deems one thing wrong and the other right. You don’t wonder to yourself why they never respect the nuances - the grey areas present. You don’t question why some people are more repulsed by certain things than others. Morality, at the end of the day, is nothing if not a subjective mess.”

“And that means you can do whatever you want?” Spirit tapped his foot on the ground, leaning as he allowed his weight to fall onto his right side.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. Because in my own subjective perspective, morality does not matter,” Stein’s mouth curled into an eerie grin, his eyes growing in size.

“You have no right to disrespect the right to life of every living creature on Earth for your own benefit,” he frowned angrily.

“Well, you might think it’s different, but are you not doing the same thing, killing anyone on Lord Death’s list?” Stein suggested, moving creepily closer to Spirit. “And I figured it’d be obvious by now, but for some odd reason I can’t find it in my soul to care about the rights of others, though I do agree that you’re technically correct.”

A chill ran up and down Spirit’s spine as he saw his partner in a light he had never seen him in before. He wasn’t just some apathetic and disagreeable kid. He was someone Lord Death would most certainly send his students out to exterminate. Stein’s only saving grace from such a fate was the fact that he had no interest in consuming the souls of others. And the fact that he was the best meister the school had ever seen.

Spirit once again shook his head in mild disbelief, a sort of shock clouding his thought process. He didn’t know what he expected, Stein had always behaved like this, but it felt as though a revelation had fallen upon him, opening his eyes to the truth; there was no saving Stein.

Stein’s expression seemed to soften, even if only a little bit, as he picked apart every minute detail on Spirit’s face, as he dissected his soul.

“You can see it, can’t you?” Stein murmured, sounding oddly disappointed - something Spirit seldom heard from his resilient and detached meister.

“See it?” Spirit repeated confusedly, seeking clarification as he processed his newfound perspective.

“Me,” he started to explain, appearing rather sullen and morose. “A part of me. Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it? Or maybe it wasn’t for you.”

“Fun while it lasted? What are you talking about?” He squinted his eyes, being thrown for a loop.

“I know you can see it, Spirit. Aren’t you seeing me for what I am in a sense?” Stein’s arms fell to his sides.

“I guess so? But what does that have to do with something being ‘fun while it lasted’?”

“Our partnership. It was entertaining,” he responded as thought it was clear as day what he was talking about.

“I’m not going to end our partnership just ‘cause you’re kind of a jerk, Stein,” he said, finally understanding what Stein had meant.

The scientist looked confused, his eyebrows pinched close together as he searched ceaselessly for answers, something he himself could understand and grapple onto.

“But I don’t respect the rights of others, you said it yourself. You can’t fix me, Spirit, I know you can see that.”

Spirit grabbed ahold of Stein’s smaller shoulders, shaking him a little as he replied.

“I’m not just gonna leave you here because I can’t ‘fix’ you, Stein. I care about you. That’s why I don’t want you cutting yourself up. Do you think I want you bleeding or some shit? Do you think I’m not worried that one day I’ll find you bleeding out ‘cause you cracked up and randomly decided to perform some surgery on yourself?”

“You care about me?”

Stein sounded so taken aback by his former statements that Spirit almost felt a sort of empathy for the guy. Actually, he did empathize him. Even if he was some kind of psychopathic nutcase.

“Duh, you dumbass! Do you think I told you to stop taking scalpels to yourself just to piss you off?!”

“I thought it was because I might be more vulnerable to future attacks from enemies if injured. Or because you told Lord Death at some point about my experimenting and Lord Death told you to tell me to stop.”

“Can you really not fathom that someone might actually care about you?” Spirit sincerely asked, a much more sympathetic and tender look on his face.

“I suppose not. I don’t think anyone’s actually known me before, so I don’t believe it’s possible. And who’s to say you’re not trying to earn my trust and ultimately utilize it to your advantage?”

“Stop being so goddamn paranoid for once in your life! Show me you! I want to see who you really are! I’ll accept all of you, I promise. I’m not trying to double-cross you or anything, I just want to really get to know my partner, I swear.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot!” He yelled passionately in a degrading manner, yet retaining a doting tone.

“I don’t know if I know how,” Stein responded honestly, perceptibly quite apprehensive towards the notion.

“How about you try,” Spirit slid his hands down from his meister’s shoulders to his frigid hands, effectively warming them in his own. “Why don’t we resonate? And don’t give me some fake, curated soul.”

“Okay…”

……

A luminous, blue glow formed around the pair as their souls intertwined, wavelengths moving back and forth and becoming one rhythmically. It was like a tragic song as Spirit ultimately crawled into Stein. It was as though the deepest pit of hell had opened before Spirit’s quivering self, an uneasy and horrified feeling washing over him.

The first thing Spirit could visualize was a foggy, labyrinth of a forest absolutely shrouded in grey. He could make out that a few of the trees had fallen, crumbling down as even the ground beneath him seemed to crack. For the plethora of trees that stood, the branches and leaves had become overgrown, twisting around one another, strangling each other to the point that any possibility of looking up at the sky had long since vanished. Loose screws stuck out of the trees, some slipping out and falling onto the decaying grass.

The forest was silent. Utterly and alarmingly silent. There were no chirping birds or hopping frogs, or really, any sign of life at all besides the apparently struggling trees themselves. The only flowers present were belladonnas.

A sudden and chilling gust of glacial wind blew by, slapping Spirit in his flabbergasted face as he noted to himself just how bitterly cold the forest was. His body trembled as he dragged himself forward, his teeth chattering. He felt unusually scared, nearly appalled.

“Stein?” He called out, only to be met with an ear-piercing and repetitious echo as he registered the sheer scale of the forest he was lost in. “Where are you?!”

It felt as though the weapon had been stripped entirely bare as he aimlessly wandered throughout the depths of his meister’s soul.

And though it felt like hours, finally, a sound besides his own movement could be heard; static.

It was a mantra of sorts - a broken record. It played over and over again.

Where was it coming from?

Spirit took a left turn, dodging a few vines and spiderless webs as he pursued the monotonous noise.

“Stein!” He bolted towards his partner, of whom was lying on the dirt, a vintage radio sat beside him. He looked so worn out.

His eyes peered up into the endless bunch of mossy green, golden, and reddish leaves above him, brown and grey making up his surroundings. He basked in the abyss, his body more unmoving than that of a corpse, which left Spirit dumbfounded. How was he not shivering from the virtually wintry temperature?

He fit in perfectly with the oppressive fog.

“What is all this?” It was a stupid question, but it was simply all that he could muster, all that he could choke out.

Stein did not respond, he did not even peek at the scythe. He maintained the same expression, the same position.

“This is you… Your soul…” Spirit muttered to himself before yelping out, “What the hell,” At the sight of blood pooling from the volume handle of the radio, of which was shaped just like a screw.

It looked like they were loosening, fragile and prepared to plummet at the slightest misstep.

“Can you make it stop,” Stein requested - truly, asked - in possibly the most exhausted and measly voice he had ever heard, as though he had been exasperatedly battling in an endless war against himself that no one else had ever known about. Stein was vulnerable, entirely unfortified for the first time in his life.

Spirit kneeled down next to Stein and the obstreperous radio, his visage sincere and concerned simultaneously, a sort of clarity about him as he delivered himself of his own fright - of his unease regarding his meister’s tumultuous soul.

He had truly never witness a soul quite like Stein’s ever before.

“No,” Stein abruptly shot up, evidently panicked and not breaking eye contact with Albarn. His eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as they watered. “I don’t think I can.”

He struck Spirit as a helpless child.

“But I can try to quiet it,” he turned the slackened screw, the static slowly dissipating. “Accept it, Stein. Accept yourself. Accept that you can’t run from yourself.”

Spirit reached out, inching closer to Stein as he held him in his arms. He appeared staggered, startled to his core - scared, even, for the first time.

“You know this will be a part of you for the rest of your life. You can’t fight it alone,” he encouragingly purred down into Stein’s silver hair.

Stein curled impossibly further into his partner, surprisingly accepting the affectionate gesture.

Was he allowed to place his trust into Spirit? What would happen if he were to? What would it even look like? Spirit seemed so disgustingly sweet and serious, did he really have a choice in the matter?

“Accept yourself just as I accept you.”

Stein let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, his knuckles turning white as he grasped with an iron grip onto his partner’s suit jacket.

His formerly tense form seemed to melt into nothingness - a peace he’d never once felt before.

Stein peered above himself, the leaves and the branches had not untangled, the fog had only further dispersed. But those same leaves appeared a little brighter in color than before - the fog seeming a little less dense, as he allowed Spirit to lift the both of them upwards, still holding onto him, as the scythe offered Stein the most authentic, heartfelt smile he could gather..

“You’re the most cocky and sadistic and honestly insane asshole I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna go out and find some other dick to partner with,” Spirit chuckled as Stein smirked in reply. “Trust me. And please don’t experiment on yourself.”

“Can’t promise you anything,” Spirit rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of his meister.

“Whatever.”

[memethebum]

Finally got a really short oneshot posted

———————————————————————-

If you’d asked Soul whether getting chopped in half or dealing with the aftermath of getting chopped in half was more painful, he’d definitely go with the latter.

However, it wasn’t because of the endless row of pills he’d have to take every week or the way he’d have to visit the offputting school nurse every other day.

The answer painfully came down to his meister and how their relationship had suffered after the incident.

He’d thought their struggling resonance would be a nosedive at first until their mission in London with Black*Star and Tsubaki had left Maka with barely functioning hands and them both with open hearts.

The pair’s month of trepidation had finally mellowed away into them being able to banter over dumb things like who scratched up one of their DVDs or who mixed up their clothing in the washing machine and left Soul with a handful of boxer briefs that’d been tie dyed pink.

They’d both decided to go out for their weekly grocery haul together during one of the weeks that made up their steady trudge back to normalcy, leaving Soul to double check their grocery list while Maka left him a few bills to pay for the items if she wasn’t back from wherever she’d disappeared to.

What’s takin’ her so long? Soul questioned as he tossed their groceries onto the conveyor belt and looked over his shoulder to see if his meister would emerge from one of the aisles behind him.

He then plucked a small packet of Kisses from the small candy section near the register and flung it onto the conveyor belt as well in order for Maka and himself to share the packet on their ride home.

“Cash or card?” the cashier eventually questioned after scanning through each of their items, probing Soul to hand them the stack of cash his meister had given him.

He then grabbed each of the grocery bags while flipping open his phone in case Maka had decided to text him that she was running late.

Soul’s sense of worry culminated even further as he stepped out the store and noticed that the sun’s snoring frame had already begun to set, forcing him to suck in a breath and begin to bolt towards his bike in order to pack up the grocery bags and start looking for Maka.

His mind then flipped into a complete standstill once he saw his meister standing against his motorcycle.

“Where the hell did ya’ run off to!” Soul questioned once he was a few feet away from Maka before watching her jolt in surprise and rise from her slouch against the vehicle.

“I was…next door,” Maka replied while Soul let out a low breath and began to arrange the grocery bags into a tote bag.

“At the florist shop?” Soul added before looking up and allowing his scarlet pupils to meet his meister’s emerald ones as she nodded in agreement and shifted her hands against her back.

“I-um, ok this probably isn’t something a cool guy would want but…” Maka then stammered out before stretching her hands away from her back and revealing a small bouquet of yellow daffodils.

Soul simply stared at the flowers for a few minutes until an absentminded huh escaped from his lips.

“Those’re…for me?” Soul then murmured, earning him a hum from Maka as she gently placed the bouquet into his free hands.

“Yea silly, that’s what I said. Think of it as a…celebratory gift. We beat our losing streak didn’t we?” Maka elaborated, although Soul had become too enraptured with the delicate gradient of yellow and white against each of the petals which made up the bouquet.

He’d never expected to get flowers until the day he dropped dead, especially since they seemed to be a more “girly” fixture that came with things like dating or marriage.

But, he’d notice the haphazard stems of roses strewn across the smooth theatre floor as Wes attempted to hold each of the bouquets he was gifted from yet another successful performance and wonder how such a small form of appraisal made him feel like his brother’s shadow alone could swallow him whole and no one would even care to look for him.

Soul then released a sigh and gently tugged a daffodil free from the bunch, probing Maka to release an apprehensive hum before he placed the flower ontop one of her earlobes.

“Damn right we did, so you deserve these as much I do dummy. Besides, they… uh look good with your hair color,” Soul replied while feeling a wave of blood rush towards the tips of his own earlobes once he caught himself thinking about how pretty Maka looked against the few remaining strands of sunlight that painted a radiant glow onto her face.

“I…um guess I do. Does that mean you like them?” Maka then questioned as she flashed him a sheepish grin, causing Soul’s mouth to unconsciously turn into a grin as well.

“Yea, I guess I do too.”

[sunnyisinsane]

seven several-sentence sunday. Day

Thank you @bcbdrums ! :D I uh . Got carried away . Whoops .

The sound of creaking is occasionally heard through the silence.

My view is focused on one thing though, that man, hand gripping the screw in his head. He's gotten taller since I last saw, Spirit was the tallest man in the "group". I was always forced to be around his friends, what luck that they're all faculty of this damned academy. The sound of a leg bouncing is also here, it's familiar and annoying. I'm not focusing on that though, I can see him in the corner of my eye and I wish I didn't, I've grown to hate the color red because of him. My focus is on the freak nonetheless. Nobody has said anything, just sitting silently at this table. There's stitches all over it. Suddenly, to my right he clears his throat.

"Maka's been good, she's top of her class, she's becoming a great meister!" The man exclaimed nervously.

"I don't care." I glare at my ex husband, he bites his lip, making those stupid panicked noises before looking down, nodding. I was hoping that'd be it until a different voice speaks up.

"Figures you wouldn't care, I mean...when was your last visit?" He smirks, the stitching on his cheek gets pulled back freakishly from the movement. I stand up from my seat.

"You have no right asking that! I needed to get away from this asshole over here! Mothering isn't easy!" Spirit gulps, looking at me after I say this loudly. Stein just stands up as well. "How could you know? You've never done it." He says, blankly, still smiling. As if this is funny.

"Oh, please, you couldn't even take care of a mouse! Honestly it's a wonder Spirit moved back in with you! He only did it because he needs someone to give his pathetic ass a purpose! He's only here because I left!" I slam my fist against the stitched table. .

Stein scoffs, "Spirit's a grown man, he does what he wants. You should know, you clearly couldn't please him or keep him in line."

I gasp, horrified, before I can say something Spirit stands up, embarrassed.

"Stein!"

We both don't acknowledge him, continuing on.

"Spirit is a spineless whore!"

"Kami!"

Stein snorts, but shrugs.

"Like I said, he's a grown man, he can do what he wants. It's his choice to stop acting like a child though." I cross my arms, glaring at Stein as he says this. "Okay guys you're just being mean to me now." A sad voice says underneath everything.

At this point Stein and I have gotten closer, emphasizing our words as we speak, both of our hands on the table as Spirit looks at us pitifully.

"Well he chose me over you! You're just a danger to everyone! I'm the one with the daughter with him!"

"how's that going for you?" Stein grins, looking around the room, as if to emphasize the point that Spirit lives with him again.

"I can see your soul, Stein. You're anxious, you're getting defensive and worried! You act so high and mighty but I can read you, way better than anyone could!" I say, grinning, looking at his soul, my words are true too. Stein may be able to give quick responses but he's always been threatened by me. The man's smile drops, he glances away, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Guys! Please, let's try getting along! Why don't we try resonating?" Spirit says, putting a hand between us. We both get caught off guard. It's silent for a moment before I move away from the table.

"You're so naive, so stupid, if you think I'd ever resonate with Franken Stein!"

"I'd say the same about you," Stein says as he lights his own cigarette. Spirit frowns, pouting. "That has to be the stupidest idea you've had yet." The stitched man shoots a look at Spirit as he says this.

I get up, towards the door. "For once, I agree with Stein here." Spirit's about to cry and Stein just smokes his cigarette quietly.

Then I leave.

Yeah I went a bit overboard there .thanks for the @ again bcb :D I didn't proofread this btw anywho uh

@takeyourcyanide , you . You write . Hi. I am TAGGING you btw you don't have to actually . Do these .

[froggbones]

Paradise Found, a summer camp AU 🏖️

Read my ongoing fic here!

[cronavirus-ragnareich]

I've had enough with gatekeepers. I'll probably never release my Fanfic now as it will get so much hate. Hate towards me personally, my interpretation of my alterego, my preference of the sensitive, frightened Anime Crona over badass villain Manga Crona and Hurt/Comfort and Empathy being discredited as infantilization is destroying everything that made Soul Eater the saviour of my sanity that it was. If I'm going to be able to salvage anything from this I am going to have to cut off my connection to the Fandom. I've had enough of the things that once brought me joy being wrecked by other people who think they are better. You've won. You can fucking have it like you've had everything else I once treasured.

[vulturebeetlesnake]

Seven Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @puppys-teeth & @takeyourcyanide <3 Here's a scrap of hurt/comfort that's been languishing in my drafts since early April

Recognition lighting in his eyes, Stein digs in his labcoat pocket for a minute, bringing out a little glass vial, and Spirit doesn't have it in him to recoil from whatever injection he's about to receive - but then Stein unscrews the lid and blows, creating a flock of little rainbow bubbles. Cool, dry hands find his, and press the vial into them. "Try. Even out your breathing and watch them." Fucking bubbles. Fists clenched with the effort, Spirit does his best to reign himself in enough to blow steady through the little wand, watching fragile iridescent orbs float gently down. Stein's smile is soft. "I make them for Crona. I still haven't figured out how to make the shine all-purple." Spirit snorts despite himself. "You're like a rocket scientist who can't tie his shoes." He doesn't so much as blink. "You'd tie them for me." "Of course."

Tagging @bcbdrums if you'd like! ^^

[eats-your-soul]

My newest project on top of my fanfic, a graphic version of my fanfic. I've reached four pages in WEEEEEE

I have never done a Manga before so wish me luck, I'm trying my best

[graylinesspam]

intrigued by ‘in plain sight’ for your wip game!! 💚

"In Plain Sight" is a Soul Eater secret identity Au, that I started like years back. I didn't have the writing ability to give it the execution is deserved at the time but I've gone back and rewritten it a couple of times.

The basic idea is that the DWMA has instituted a rule that all meister and weapon teams have to remain anonymous to the public (to protect their privacy) and also to keep their identities a secret from each other to keep another kishin swallowing his weapon partner situation from happening.

That rule is basically the most broken rule in the dwma though, because good luck keeping resonating partners from finding each other in the same city. Except for super strict meister Maka Albarn whose parents broke the rule, got married, and ended horribly.

Her and her partner Soul are quickly rising through the ranks as the most talented team to date. But they still don't know who each other are underneath the mask.

I'll get around to writing this at some point. But as you know, dear star wars mutual, I am currently occupied with the Clone wars. lol.

but thanks for asking.

[illubean]

👉👈 hello there! :>

Would some Headcanons about Death The Kid with a reader who's kuudere with everyone but tsundere towards him be okay?

DtK with a Kuu/Tsundere

Characters: Death the Kid Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

random but I think he would listen to twice

Warnings: none

Kid was enamored of you

there was something about your cool and aloof personality that drew him towards you

but what he couldn't understand was why you were so mean to him

he doesn't think he's done anything wrong to you and really wishes you would just tell him if he did

he's under the impression you just don't like him and chalks it up to him being "asymmetrical garbage" :(((

after a week or so of him sulking Liz gets sick of his shit and tells him it's actually the exact opposite

but Kid never listens to her does he

so she calls an emergency Girls (+ Kid) meeting

Maka tells him "They're mean to you because they like you. It might be because they have a hard time expressing it otherwise."

and Tsubaki is like "There's a word for that in Japanese. They're called Tsunderes!"

and with that one word everything finally clicks for Kid

all the times you've snapped at him or made sassy comments with a red face wasn't out of anger

you were blushing

he's a lot less butthurt about it now that he's got you all figured out

every time you say something snappy he's like :3 cus he knows you dont mean it

sometimes he likes to respond a certain way to see you get flustered

and one day he decides to confess so suave omgg

"You're an idiot." "An idiot who wants to take you out."

is he a little embarassed? yes but he already has confirmation you like him back and the way you're quick to turn away from him confirms it

but yeah now that he see's past your facade you are dating and so happy yayy

he doesn't mind your 'tsundere' behavior all too much after that

do not call him asymmetrical tho he will cry

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 3 -

SE Franken Stein x Reader - Winter Proposal

Summary: Stein thanks you for staying by his side during the spread of Madness by offering to stay by your side permanently.

Warnings: Fluff, grammatical errors, mentions of poor mental health

Your body shuddered, trudging through ankle-deep snow, alone in the woods. Stein had invited you to his residence for what he called a 'test grading date'. He'd add that word to the back of anything he knew you'd be reluctant to take him up on. He knew how you felt for him, and he knew exactly how to get his way. You knew as well as he did, that in reality, he just wanted you to grade his class' tests in his stead, in exchange for coffee and company.

"Glad you could make it," he smiled warmly, standing in front of his home, about fifty feet away from you.

"Oh, stuff it, Stein," you huffed, stomping towards him. "You know it's like zero degrees out here? And you're making me walk in the snow, you should be ashamed!"

"It's actually fifteen degrees," he corrected with a chuckle. "But, really. Thank you for coming all this way."

"Yeah, yeah," you dismissed, now close to passing him by on the way to the door. "Let's get inside before I freeze to death."

To your surprise, Stein caught you by the wrist, pulling you back. "Not so fast," He skillfully spun you back to him, pulling you closer. "Did you really think I'd make you walk all the way here just to grade papers?"

"Well, yeah..." you swallowed, trying to conceal a blush. "That's totally something you would do."

"Maybe the old me, but I've changed," he replied, a content smile playing on his lips. "For the better, I hope."

"Yeah," you scoffed, rolling your eyes a bit. "I'm sure you feel loads better now that you're not being poisoned."

"I'm serious," he said sternly. "I feel like a new person, and it's all thanks to you."

You could no longer hide your red cheeks as more and more blood rushed to your face. "S-Stein, what are you talking about?"

Cold hands sunk down to the small of your back, pinning you against him as olive eyes bore into you. "Even at my worst, you were there," he praised, tilting his head to the side. "You never gave up on me, no matter how dangerous loving me became. You worked tirelessly to help me, with no reward. I can't thank you enough for that."

Kind, encouraging words from Stein were few and far between, so you'd never gotten accustomed to hearing them, and needless to say, it filled your tummy with butterflies. "T-That's what friends do, right? You'd do the same for me."

"You're not just my friend, (Y/N), you're my biggest support. And...if you'd have me, even after all the times I took your love for granted, I'd like to make you my wife..." From the corner of your eye, you could see him reach into his coat pocket and fish something out. "I can't offer you diamonds or precious metals, but hopefully this," he confessed, raising a hand-crafted steel ring. "Would be enough, for now, at least."

"Oh, Stein..." you breathed, totally speechless. "D-Did you make this yourself?"

"I did," he laughed. "Which is why it looks the way that it does, I'm a doctor, not a jeweler. It's made from repourosed surgical steel, so it's body safe, at least."

You couldn't help but giggle as tears streamed down your face. Looking it over, you could tell it was made terribly, beads of weld speckling it and the silhouette misshapen, but it looked just like Stein did- patched together.

"Should I take your laughter as a no?" he chuckled cooly, still holding you.

You jumped against him in response, needing to be infinitely closer. "Of course, I'll marry you, Franken!" you sobbed, nuzzling his throat. "And the ring is beautiful, I love it."

"That's a relief," he smiled gently, hugging you tightly. "I was almost nervous there."

"I could never reject you, Stein, you know that."

"I do," he agreed, before cracking a grin. "Now, Mrs. Stein, would you do the honor of grading my kids' tests while I make some coffee?"

Taglist:

@usopps-devotee

[cannibal-nightmares]

Six Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @takeyourcyanide, natürlich,, Time for six seven sentences from a WIP B)

"Death, it's hot." The stoic didn't reply. Spirit knew Stein hated humoring complaining, but the former loved to make noise, anyways. He hummed with refocus once he actually took note of the room, his roommate’s unclothed back starting to glimmer with sweat. "Although, maybe they can take a bit longer on fixing the A/C if it means it keeps you out of your clothes." Stein barely turned to the redhead in the swiveling chair, revealing a sort of DIY contraption of a holed bucket and a fan in his lap. “I’m working on it.”

I love being a tease. This snippet says nothing about the actual fic. It's also from a piece I've only barely and vaguely mentioned to one person.

UMM @midnightcaptions TAG YOU'RE IT. Also anyone who reads this. I am tagging you with my laser eyes.

[takeyourcyanide]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you for the tag, @mellancholy-morose! Here’s one of the two fics I’ve been working on. I figured I’d use the Spirit one since I often use the Stein-adjacent fics.

Spirit gripped the edges of Kami’s marble countertop with a fervor he was not aware that he possessed; his knuckles just as white as the petals of a daisy, his fingertips vermillion. As he stared down into the sink, not daring to face himself in the bathroom mirror, he forced the bile rising in his throat back down, a stirring cocktail of trepidation, fear, anxiety, nervousness, excitement, joy, shame, and grief falling upon him all at once.

“Spirit… I’m pregnant,” the words screamed repeatedly within the confines of his shaken skull, the perturbation in his lover’s voice still just as apparent as it had been mere moments ago.

He had given his whole life away for the sake of one night of pleasure and passion. Or multiple nights. There’s no telling when and where the growing fetus was conceived if he was being entirely honest with himself.

Albarn threw his head back and forth, a repetitive motion, as his hushed nose scrunched, his eyebrows furrowing in terror.

I suppose I’ll tag @bcbdrums, @puppys-teeth, and @memethebum (I know we don’t interact, but I couldn’t think of many others haha).

[memethebum]

Got a new oneshot posted that’s semi spicy hehe 🌶️🫣

————————————————————————

If there was a list of things that’d make Soul’s body feel like it was being set ablaze, he’d never guess that making out with Maka Albarn would ever be made a reality.

However, that action seemed to occurring a lot recently and the fact that they were locking lips in his own personal backrooms made the situation feel even more bewildering.

The Deathscythe felt as if he was slowly sinking in passion at the present, with the steadfast grip Maka’s hands had on his Black Room suit adding to the experience until he realized she was actually toppling over and taking him down with her.

“Ah-ah fuck Maka, you ok?” Soul questioned while he pushed the velvet curtain shadowing his head away with a quick swat of his hand.

Wait, if we fell through the curtains, that must mean…he then thought, only to watch as Maka flipped around and began to take in their surroundings.

“You never told me there was more to this place?” the young woman quipped before turning her head to face him.

“There’s not much here. It’s kinda like the backlog of my inner self of whatever the fuck that main room is made of,” Soul then explained as he jabbed a finger at the Black Room proper behind them.

“The backlog?” Maka murmured before suddenly getting up and venturing further into the area, earning her a guffaw from Soul.

“I’m tellin’ ya’, there’s nothing interesting back here so let’s just go dance to something-“ the Deathscythe attempted to explain, only to jump in surprise once he heard the screech of a harp Maka had grazed her hands against.

The young woman then regarded him with an apologetic look before it mellowed out into an inquisitive one a moment later.

“My father thought it’d be cool for me n’ Wes to learn ta’ play random instruments. I actually kinda liked playin’ the harp but…” Soul explained before his voice began to slowly trail off as he recalled trembling under his father’s seething gaze after not playing on the same level as Wes.

“Sorry…” Maka murmured, pulling the Deathscythe out of the memory just in time to see his meister walk towards him with a solemn expression.

“I shouldn’t have just started prodding around like that,” the young woman added, eliciting a sigh out of Soul.

“Nah, s’ fine. It’s not as if I’m tryin’ to run from the bad stuff anymore,” Soul replied as he felt Maka’s palms begin to rest against his cheeks before he looked down and gave her an encouraging nod.

The Deathscythe then began to lead her through the differing knickknacks he had collected around the room, which ultimately spurred into them making out once more.

It was then that Soul noticed a narrow doorway situated at the corner of the room, probing Maka into peppering another chaste kiss onto his lips and then turning around to see what had suddenly piqued his interest.

The young woman then regarded him with an arched eyebrow before he raised his shoulders into a shrug and began to walk towards the cryptic entryway.

It took no time for Soul to twist the ornate doorknob and fling the door open before feeling completely mortified at not being able to discern what laid within the room in advance.

The Deathscythe could hear Maka take in a breath as they both gazed upon the king sized bed sitting in the center of the room with a haphazard pile of rose petals leading from the doorway towards the fixture.

He could practically feel the silk black bedsheets which had been neatly splayed ontop the mattress and pillows like they would’ve been at every one of his family’s vacation homes. His thoughts then shifted to how the area had been tied together by the cerulean blue light emanating from the candles surrounding the bed, with the dancing flames almost seeming to taunt the pair to throw themselves into the room and get to business.

Soul then slammed the door shut, only to feel Maka’s palm come rest upon his knuckles a split second afterwards.

“Sorry, you shouldn’t-“

“I’ve thought about it too,” Maka added, probing Soul to release a low breath and watch as the young woman gave him a bashful smile in understanding.

“You’ve thought about doing it…with me?” the Deathscythe questioned, earning him a snort from Maka.

“What, did I actually kiss you silly? Of course I’ve wanted it to be with you and only you Soul! So, you don’t need to hide it from me,” the young woman then urged while tightening her grip upon his hand, which remained glued to the doorknob.

“Actually…” Maka then added, triggering a mutual thought between the pair.

“You actually…” Soul replied before immediately noticing the sly smile that’d immediately plastered onto the young woman’s face.

“It looks like that room is just sitting there collecting dust, so why not? Only-only if you’re up for it too, of course,” the young woman exclaimed while leaning forward and beginning to circle one of her deft fingers around the thick cloth covering his chest.

Me, her, us havin’ sex in my mind??? the Deathscythe then thought, only to feel his mind go completely blank when he tried to think of any reason as to not initiate another form of intimacy with someone he’d sacrifice himself for in a heartbeat.

“Maka, I just-I can’t promise I can make it ta’ home base-“

“It doesn’t matter to me. I want whatever makes us both happy,” Maka then interjected, causing Soul to level his scarlet pupils with her emerald ones and find a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

He was able to chase away her worries about him by quickly slanting his lips against hers once more, probing the young woman to let out a throaty hum and deepen the kiss.

They continued their fervent clashing before the Deathscythe felt Maka bite his lower lip and begin to tousle her hand around for the door knob, allowing the pair to push past the doorway a moment afterwards.

Soul then unclapsed his lips from hers for a split second, only for the young woman to fling him against the edge of the empty doorway a moment later.

He could practically feel Maka’s heart thump against his chest as they both took in a few shallow breaths before she broke the small interlude with a coy smile.

Soul couldn’t help but release a giggle at the action while the young woman began to run her palms against his stubble and then pull him down for another set of kisses.

Their lips danced to the familiar rhythm they’d created until Maka slowly trailed her lips against his jaw before eventually nibbling against the crux of his neck, causing Soul to wonder if there’d be any physical traces of their escapades afterwards.

“Hahh…” the Deathscythe stammered out as he felt Maka shirk his vest across his shoulders, eliciting him to envelop her into his arms.

The young woman then let out a startled gasp from the sudden action before Soul lifted her up and into his arms.

“Can’t let ya’ have all the fun,” Soul explained while sprinting across the room and throwing them onto the plush mattress.

The Deathscythe then gazed down to see Maka giggling in his arms, probing him to let out a low laugh of his own before resting his fingers against her chin and feeling her lips against his once more.

The young woman immediately let out a low moan before teasing her tongue against Soul’s teeth, eliciting him to groan in response while feeling her hands sink into his misshapen locks of hair in order to push his lips further against hers.

“Mm…you ok?” Maka eventually breathed out as they pulled apart, allowing Soul to discern how flushed her face had already become from their lip locking.

“Yea…” the Deathscythe replied, although he slowly became much too preoccupied with planting a trail of kisses down Maka’s neck.

The young woman’s hands then moved to pull against Soul’s hair once more after he began to gently run his teeth against the sleek end of her shoulder blade, only for him to buck in pain a split second later due to the end of her heel clashing against his knee.

“S-sorry!” Maka squeaked out as the Deathscythe reached down to rub his hand against the appendage.

“S’ alright. It didn’t hurt that bad,” Soul exclaimed before releasing a huff and beginning to kick his own shoes off his feet.

“Here, lemme just…” he continued while stretching out a hand to Maka, who let out an intrigued hum before sliding her fingers against his and allowing him to lead her towards the edge of the bed.

The Deathscythe then got onto his knees in front of the young woman, causing his heart to beat erratically as he gently began to loosen the binds of her heels and toss the footwear to the side.

He then dared a glance up at Maka, who simply gazed at him with an intensity he’d feel everytime they’d initiate sloppy makeouts or litter the other’s skin with love bites.

His hands began to gently rest against the satin texture of Maka’s dress before he slowly began to pull it upwards, allowing him to take in the heavenly expanse of her legs beneath the fabric.

The wavering rhythm of his heartbeat became an afterthought as soon as he placed a kiss against one of Maka’s knee and felt her let out an approving hum at where this was headed.

Soul then allowed her dress to spill from one of his hands so he could run small reverent circles against each patch of skin that was left behind while he continued to trail a set of kisses against both of the young woman’s legs.

It only took a few more pecks across Maka’s toned thighs for him to notice her lacy gray panties, which ignited his restlessness once more.

He slowly trailed his lips against her inner thigh before placing a languid kiss just inches away from her sensitive spot.

The sigh Maka released seemed to be instantaneous, allowing Soul to release a shallow breath against her quivering hips.

“Death, don’t stop,” Maka groaned before he felt one of her hands reach out and claw against his shoulder.

The Deathscythe let out a hum in understanding as he shifted the dress up towards her chest, allowing him a moment to caress his hands against her firm hips and trail a set of kisses up the length of her bare stomach and row of toned abs.

He then finally helped Maka pull the bunched fabric of the dress over her head and off her body, causing his breath to hitch while she let out a giggle and began to run her hands through her unruly locks of hair.

“You’re-you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Soul sighed while slowly taking in the weight of just how ethereal his meister looked partially naked above him.

His eyes slowly trailed over her smooth flesh and supple muscles once more, allowing his mind to solidify the thought of how a goddess could be in the same room as his meister and his heart would still know who to knell before and worship with his entire body and soul.

“You’re too good to me,” Maka then sighed before she reached out and stroked one of her hands against his cheek.

“Could say the same bout’ you,” Soul replied while taking the young woman’s hand and gently pressing his lips onto her knuckles, only to feel her grip both his hands and snake them towards her back as an invitation to unclasp her bra.

His hands jittered against her spine for a moment before the bra fell into his hands, earning him a sigh from Maka as she stretched her back once her soft tufts of pale skin and pert nipples were completely set free from the undergarment.

A brief silence then passed between the pair before the Deathscythe tentatively began to knead one of the young woman’s breasts, probing her to shift against him once more.

His mouth dipped down to take Maka’s other nipple into his mouth as he felt her arch into his touch, causing him to speed up his prodding in order to show her just how much he wanted to beat the crap out of his younger self for chastising her simply because he was too much of a coward to admit how beautiful he thought she was.

He then felt Maka’s hands begin to pull his head away from her quivering figure, allowing him to pause and take in a few heaving breaths.

“Was-was that good?” Soul sighed out as he began to plant a few kisses around the young woman’s neck.

“Yea…more than that. It was great!” Maka replied while she ran her fingers against the small peek of Soul’s bare chest, causing him to suck in a breath as she slid off his dress jacket and tossed the crimson shirt next to it after she’d stripped him down to his boxers.

Her arms then wrapped around his waist and hoisted him ontop of her.

“Do you want me to return the favor or…” the young woman questioned as Soul felt a warmth begin to settle within his chest once his body stilled against hers.

“Nah, maybe not this time…” the Deathscythe responded before feeling Maka let out a sigh underneath him.

“I know, it’s lame….I’m sorry I can’t give ya’-“

“Don’t apologize! I was only asking because I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. And Death, the only reason this feels so good is because you’re doing it with me,” Maka exclaimed, causing Soul to let out a thoughtful chuckle and allow his hands to run against her arms.

He then felt the young woman glide one of her hands along the back of his neck, which served as a precursor to the row of pinpricks which began to form around the end of his scalp once their lips molded into another heated kiss.

His hands wasted no time sliding against each bend of her collarbones before slowly working towards her breasts, eliciting Maka to gasp against his lips as his fingers danced against her soft flesh.

The action allowed the Deathscythe to break the kiss and lower his gaze towards Maka’s panties, only to feel her clasp her hands against his own a moment later.

His gave her a thoughtful gaze for a split second before his shaky hands began to tug down the undergarment from her hips, leaving him a clear view of how much their ministrations had been working on her.

“You…still good?” Soul coughed out as he massaged his hand against one of Maka’s thighs, earning him a huff while she slid her legs against his torso.

“Yes! At least, I’ll definitely be once you hurry this up a bit…if you want to of course,” Maka giggled while leveling her eyes towards him, probing the Deathscythe to let out a chuckle as well.

“I’m happy with whatever my meister wants,” Soul then responded before planting a small peck below her stomach.

He then began to rub against her entrance with a few swipes of his finger, probing Maka to let out a low moan before he moved his finger into her warmth.

“Don’t stop!” the young woman exclaimed as her own fingers shot downwards to tightly grasp Soul’s hair, causing him to stretch out another finger and start a steady pace with his appendages.

He could feel his own body become light from the experience, almost as if Maka was wielding him in the midst of battle.

The Deathscythe then felt himself get tethered to the moment once more as Maka’s stronghold upon his scalp shifted towards one of his hands, probing him to add his thumb into the shaky but ardent symphony he’d created.

“Oh, oh Death, I love you!” Maka exclaimed, causing Soul’s throat to tighten while he gazed into the ethereal glow of her mossy pupils against the blue candlelight.

He then rested his head against hers, focusing on nothing but their erratic heartbeats shooting out in place before Maka’s hands came crashing down onto his back with a final buck from her hips onto his fingers.

They collided in a lethargic manner for a few moments until the young woman allowed Soul to pull away with a quick kiss onto his lips.

The Deathscythe then let out a low huff before slumping onto the bed beside Maka, causing him to notice the steady rise and fall of her chest as she began to regain her composure.

“You..did you finish?” Soul questioned while he felt the young woman’s breath ghost against his chest once she planted her face next to his heart.

“Mhmmm, and it felt amazing! Was it…alright to you?” Maka replied, probing the Deathscythe to let out a chuckle before snaking a hand across her spine.

“Yea, it kinda felt like we were resonating,” Soul added, probing the young woman to let out an amused hum of her own.

The pair then nuzzled against one another in a comfortable silence, only for it be broken by the sound of Soul fidgeting around the covers in order to gaze down at Maka.

“Hey Maka,” the Deathscythe whispered before the young woman let out a sigh in response.

“I-I love you. Sorry for…not sayin’ it sooner,” Soul added while hearing the soft swish of fabric rustle under him before Maka bore her eyes on him once more, with the gentle grip of her palm against his scar serving as the only gesture he needed to know she understood the weight behind those words.