Embers Ch. 11
Haru wanted little more at that moment than to curl up and to be swallowed up by the void. To cease existing and disappear from life and reality. Instead, he settled for sinking deeper into his seat.
Never had a train ride felt this terribly long.
“It was pretty boring in the end. But the snacks were really good!” Patty continued, chattering on with that child-like excitement. She had not stopped talking since her group had boarded the train, intent on talking to Haru like he was some old friend. “But the stuff that happened before and after the conference were pretty fun!”
She kept going on and on about that fucking DWMA public conference going on in London, and Haru wound up learning far more about how it went, what it was about, and why it was so fucking important than he ever wanted.
Which, granted, wasn’t a hard point to reach seeing as he wanted to know absolutely nothing about what the DWMA was doing, or anything that had to do with that school.
But Christ! This woman could talk!
She talked and talked about some guy named Oxen or something and the crush he’s had on some girl since he was like twelve, and how he has yet to give up, constantly making various attempts to win her heart and sweep her off her feet, just determined to not give in despite how nothing he was doing was working and the girl was probably gay anyways because “have you seen how she is with her weapon”? They have to be dating, there’s no way they aren’t!
She talked about how the new students lacked the same flare and energy that her year had, and how this year had half as many new students as her first year had. How this conference went over how to react when a civilian was crossing paths with a witch or Kishin Egg. Which boiled down to running away and finding a phone to contact the DWMA. Which itself did absolutely nothing to solve the immediate problem of a powerful non-human being trying to and possibly actually succeeding in killing people. But it was the DWMA, Haru couldn’t expect them to actually save the day before people got hurt.
She talked about herself and her sister, about their fucking meister and how weird he could be but that “He’s still a swell guy!”. She talked about how they were obviously the most awesome meister-weapon team because they worked directly with the big bone daddy himself and were the weapons of Death Jr., son of the aforementioned big bone daddy. That Death was essentially their adopted dad and that they were also a family as well as a team (Gag!).
The woman talked about how Kid had his own speech he got to make at the conference about how brave the British meisters and weapons have been and continue to be, and how proud the world is of them for doing their part in keeping the world safe.
“You’re going to Paris, too, right? Are you staying there, or just stopping cause you gotta get somewhere else?” she had asked, somehow, miraculously, beyond all matter of reason, logic, and physical possibility, not out of breath even a little after how much she had been talking.
And Haru, being the magnet of absolute horrendously, terribly, disgustingly shitty luck had answered without really thinking, just wanting the conversation to end and for her to shut up. “Stayin’ fer a lil’ while.”
He shouldn’t have said that. Should not have said that.
The woman fucking squealed so loud that other passengers turned to look at them, that the older blonde looked over her magazine and the mini reaper frowned in a way that showed he’d long since accepted this life of headache, and Haru sank deeper into his seat, wondering how much farther until the cushions just swallowed him.
He should not have said anything, should not have responded at all.
Because then the woman just went off about how fun it was that they were both spending time in Paris, that maybe the five of them could do sight-seeing together, and oh, hey, does Haru know French? Ah, right, his name’s Auclair or something, he’s probably from France, right? Yeah, of course he’s from France! She knew a little French, but she wanted to see how they’d react if she just spoke Italian. Cause she knows Italian. Maybe she could make them think she’s Italian and not American.
They’d never really gotten to visit Paris for fun, it’s always for a mission, but this was the first time they were going to get to stay there for vacay time, and she was going to use it to the full advantage. Oh, they should all go to Disneyworld together! Or was it Disneyland? Disneyland, Paris? Ah, who cared! They’ve also got a big fancy art museum, Kid might like that, but it might also drive him absolutely mad. It'd be funny to see him trying to straighten everything until it’s at the perfect angle, and that’d take days. They might spend their entire vacation in the museum if he did that!
The worst part of it all? Not even an hour had passed. There was still over an hour left of this fucking trip.
It went on and on, her chattering and talking, not even caring that Haru wasn’t responding, just talking about whatever came to mind.
Eventually—the universe finally taking a look at Haru and thinking it’s screwed him over enough that it was time for a small, tiny, microscopic mercy— she somehow fell asleep mid-sentence. Which was for the best, because it had reached the point that had Patty not stopped talking, Haru was going to get locked up for a murder he actually did commit.
Good God she was annoying!
As if sensing his misery and fury with some bullshit Shinigami powers, Death the Kid had turned to him and offered Haru a sympathetic, understanding smile. “Sorry about her,” he said, nodding to where the blonde was snoring. “Patty can be a bit overwhelming at times, and she had a bit more coffee today than she should have.”
Haru snorted, at least he could take comfort that he wasn’t the one stuck living with her.
It was a blessing the gaiter covered his mouth; he would have been baring his teeth with how angry he felt. But his mood lightened and his expression softened as he looked to Bea.
Somehow she had been able to fall asleep too, not that he blamed her, she had been up all night, the poor girl must have been exhausted. She looked so peaceful sleeping, leaning against the side of the train, using Haru’s jacket as a pillow. How could he keep feeling angry when looking at her like that?
“She’s your sister, right?”
His mood spiked a bit, negatively, and he turned his attention back to the other side. This time it was the older sister, Liz, or something. She had looked over her magazine to the two, brow raised but a knowing look in her eyes. “I know that look, you clearly care about her a lot,” she explained.
A pause, long and thoughtful as Haru turned to look away from the two, his eyes falling back on her sleeping form. “She’s my family,” he said, reaching over to brush some stray strands of hair from Beatrice’s face. “She’s my everythin’.”
He didn’t know what he would do, what he was supposed to do, if he lost her. It had only been two years, and already she had thawed out some of the shards in his heart and wormed her way in, taking hold of his heart and soul. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have accused her of being a witch, of having used witchcraft to bring him under her spell.
“I get what you mean,” Liz had agreed, and Haru saw her look to Patty. “She might be hard to handle, but I’d do anything for my sister, to keep her happy and healthy.”
What was this feeling rumbling deep inside of him? Camaraderie? Yes, that must have been it. A sense of camaraderie with a fellow older sibling, to meet someone who understood his love for Beatrice, his willingness to do what it took to keep her safe and happy.
Perhaps this group wasn’t quite as bad as Haru had initially feared. Sure, the baby reaper was a threat, and the younger blonde was more annoying than Ichiro could be, but… maybe they weren’t so bad. If Haru was careful, maybe they could spend time together, just a little. Perhaps he could arrange for them to just casually cross paths at Paris’ Disneyland park, not actually hanging out, but just crossing paths so why not stop and chat, maybe have lunch together, once everything’s calmed down and they’ve gotten settled in.
Or maybe at the Louvre. Patty had mentioned that in her rambles and, well, Haru wanted to show Beatrice the Louvre. And the Eiffel Tower. Maybe take a little boat on the Seine. There were so many sights in Paris that she would love, and he wanted to show her all of them.
But that brought up other questions, too.
Haru would need to figure out some kind of income source once they got to Paris, he’d have to find a job, the kind where no one would really pay him any mind, the kind where he’d just blend in. There was little doubt that Rosie would offer them shelter, but he was not going to depend on her for finances. He could take care of Beatrice and himself without handouts.
They’d just need a room for a short period, until Haru got enough money to afford the two of them their own apartment. Housing was a bit on the expensive side in Paris, a lot more so than his apartment in Pocklington had been.
He could fall back on being a bartender, Haru felt he did a pretty good job of it in Pocklington. It wasn’t stressful, but not the worse. Maybe go back to being a cook, no people interactions, less people would see him while working, and he wouldn’t be as stressed.
Hell, he’d work as a character actor at Disneyland if it paid. He could put on a smile, play nice and be friendly if needed, he was a fairly good liar, after all. Plus, they paid well if he remembered the articles right. Well, as well as they could for people without any degrees.
Or, he had better not. Attraction characters were a bit too public. He didn’t need his face on the internet, and they’d make him take his mask off. So, no, he could scratch that off the list. The two of them needed to lay low, especially if mini-death was going to be in the city.
But, once he and his weapons were gone?
Haru smiled beneath his mask as he looked to Beatrice, running his fingers through her hair, his chest feeling warm.
Once Kid and the sisters were gone, they’d be safer. They were out of Pocklington, no one was going to know them, recognize them. They’d have to lay low, but that doesn’t mean imprisonment.
Beatrice wouldn’t be recognizable, no one in Paris was going to look at her and think that she shares the same face as some girl who went missing in a small English town two years ago. No one in there was going to care about the news of some nowhere town in another nation. Beatrice would be able to go outside and play, she wouldn’t need to stay holed up all day and go outside in disguises. She could even step outside without him at her side—okay, maybe not that. Cities were dangerous, he wasn’t going to risk her being out on her own without him there to keep her safe.
But she’d be free. She’d have more freedom no longer having the pressure of someone maybe noticing and recognizing her. No longer worried that the police would bang on the door demanding that she come with them and be sent back to her parents.
Don’t be too careful. Police are looking for you, his mind warned.
An officer and a weapon attacked; his crime discovered. People dead. The police were looking for them. Being in another country would help, but the DWMA was not hindered by borders like the cops of Pocklington were. Maka was probably going to want to hunt them down after what they did to Soul, being in Paris would only help for a short while.
They’d need to move again. They couldn’t risk getting too comfortable, dropping their guard too much.
But this was a respite. Paris would be a moment of peace and safety. Then, they’d plan their next move, where to go to next, where to hide next.
This was their life. It had been Haru’s life for so long and now it was Beatrice’s. He felt guilty about that, that she’d never have a normal, stationary life, that she was going to be on the move, always looking over her shoulder. But she was safer now than she had been before, and she’d see more of the world than she ever would have before.
This was for the best.
“Has she considered enrolling at the academy?”
Haru’s blood froze, those daydream thoughts gone like clouds on the wind.
He turned back to Kid, his expression turning cold, hard, staring at those yellow eyes as the hate and rage boiled under his flesh. “Excuse me?” Of course, of fucking course he would know! He’s a Shinigami, he can see souls! He can probably tell each type apart with a single glance. The man must have known the moment he saw them the moment he set his eyes on her, that she was, that she—
If he noticed the animosity, Kid did not show it.
He merely shrugged, looking back to Beatrice, and then turning his gaze back to Haru. His posture polite enough, nonconfrontational, annoyingly, infuriatingly calm. “She’s a weapon, is she not?” he asked, as if he hadn’t already known. His tone curious, as if wondering if Haru hadn’t known—of course Haru would know! “She could benefit quite a bit from joining the DWMA.”
What went unsaid was, of course, that the DWMA would benefit having another child to send off to hunt killers and monsters. To die for a God that was too afraid to step foot outside it’s castle.
He almost snarled. “An’ give up ‘er life for a fight that ain’t even hers?” Haru challenged, moving so that his entire body blocked Kid’s view of Beatrice. “Sorry, but we ain’t fans of yer schtick, try solicitin’ some other weak-willed sap.”
“That’s not what—” Kid had begun, raising his hands in an offering of peace. He looked surprised, as if he were unused to someone being so vocal in rejecting such an enticing offer of a fancy suicide. “I only meant that—”
“That yer so in need of new students that ya gotta ask rando’s on a train.” With an angry huff, Haru twisted to look away from them, only keeping an eye on their reflection in the mirror. “Ask someone else, we ain’t interested.”
He didn’t respond to that, thankfully. It would have seemed that the young God had realized that there was no point pestering Haru and had gone quiet.
That’s how the rest of the train ride went.
Haru couldn’t let go of his anger as he sank into his seat, not looking back to the reaper and twins as the last hour of the trip went by. Instead he tried to keep himself in control as he wove his fingers through Beatrice’s hair. It was shorter. In the two years he had known her, her hair had grown to be quite long and healthy. It was a shame that he had to cut it, but it was for the best.
It was still soft to the touch, nothing like the dry, wiry texture it had when they first met. Her face full and soft.
His anger began trickling away.
By the time the train had pulled into Gare du Nord, his anger had faded away, almost completely. It still lingered, it would always linger, but he felt relaxed.
He had roused Beatrice and led her out, carrying their bags himself while allowing her to hold onto his sleeve to stay with him. Haru made sure to veer away from Kid and his group, not wanting them to try asking Beatrice directly. Not that it was needed, as soon as they were off the train, he had lost sight of the three in the crowds.
“Hang on tight, Bea,” Haru said, loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowded station. “Les’ jus’ get ta exit. An’ then we’ll go lookin’ fer Rosie, kay?”
Beatrice answered by drawing closer to him, hanging on tighter. “It’s as crowded as St. Pancras,” she mumbled.
“That’s cause London an’ Paris are both busy cities. Nothing like Pocklington.”
He hope this wouldn’t be too much for her. They had only stayed briefly in London, long enough to get a change in looks and get on a train. But they’d be here in Paris for a short while. It’d be a contrast to something as small as Pocklington.
But that’d be for the better. So many people, no one is going to really stop and notice them, remember their faces. They’re just a couple more bodies in the crowds.
He gently wrapped an arm around Beatrice, careful not to bang her with a bag, and held her close as they made their way through the train station, shouldering past people to make way, the air livid with French words and conversations. Haru understood it, though it had been a couple of years since he had actively spoken it, he still understood. ‘Welcome back!’ ‘Have a safe trip!’ ‘Of course the train’s delayed. It’s always delayed!’ ‘I could have sworn I put my charger in there, where’d it go?’
His throat clenched, but he kept them walking.
He held Beatrice closer, tighter, his heart a drum in his chest, a thunder in his ears.
The sun was bright, blinding, the air thick, suffocating. His fingers itched to dig into something, to grind his nails into something. To—to—to—
“Ah, there you two are!”
Hearing Rosie’s bell like voice fill the air, the air grew lighter, and Haru felt the weight on his shoulders ease away as the familiarity embraced him.
Souls ears were ringing.
For a moment, his thoughts spun in disoriented circles, trying to replay what had happened, but spinning and glitching like a scratched CD struggling in a player. Repeating the same bits over and over, skipping over parts. A song made of dissonance. He struggled to recall where he was, where he should be, tried to recall everything.
Then he noticed Maka, and his mind found it’s anchor.
She was watching him from one of the armchairs, a book open in her lap, green eyes wide with concern, the want to run and hug him and the knowledge that she shouldn’t battling it out on her face. There was a tremble to her lips, the bags under her eyes darker than they had been when she had gone to help the detective.
Maka took a breath, “Good…” she glanced to the clock on the wall, briefly, and then back to him. “Afternoon. Good afternoon, how are you feeling?”
“Like I can sympathize with all the eggs we’ve eaten now. I know how they’ve felt whenever broken open for consumption,” he said with a cracked smile and a twinge of shame. Shame for ending up hurt and in the hospital. For letting his guard down and letting someone get the drop on him. “I’m feeling fine. More or less. A bit of a headache. Got a stubborn ringing in my ears.”
The rest of him felt surprisingly intact. He expected some stab wounds, maybe some organs to have been cut out and currently circling the black market. But he felt like everything was still there.
He hadn’t realized that he had spaced out until the added weight to the hospital bed brought his attention back to his meister as Maka watched him, still concerned, still afraid. Sorry, he wanted to say, but refrained.
“You catch the guy, at least?” Soul asked instead, chuckling a little as he pushed himself up to sit. “I’d like to share a few words with the bastard, let him know I don’t really appreciate being knocked out like that. Seriously wasn’t cool.”
With a sigh, Maka shook her head, “No. Haruto was long gone by the time we arrived,” She admitted, folding her hands on her lap. “You’ve been out for twelve hours. Grace—Watson, she’s not woken up yet. You got off pretty easy in comparison.”
Shit. He thought. How much time had passed between Haruto fleeing and them arriving? Again, Soul found himself berating himself, scolding himself for having let his guard down, for having let Haruto get the jump on him and flee. Even worse, someone got hurt because of it. Maka wasn’t going into the details of what Watson’s condition was, but, it wasn’t hard to get it was bad by how she had reacted.
With a groan and a sigh, Soul fell back against the pillows. “Any other bad news?”
Maka smiled, strained and forced, “Well, a lot’s happened. Elijah and I made some discoveries. I don’t know if it’s necessarily good news, but it’s progress,” she offered, tightening her hold on her own hands. “And, well… before we get into that—what were you doing there?”
Ah, she wouldn’t have known, Soul realized slowly. He hadn’t been quite that forthcoming when he took Watson and made orders to the cops, had he even explained to the other officers why he had them rushing to find info on the guy? His head was too fuzzy to remember. He had called Maka, had sent her a couple of texts, but he didn’t quite explain what was going on, had he?
“The witness identified Haruto at the scene of the murders,” Soul said, not bothering to raise himself up again. “He was quite bloodied and had the knife. We did some digging while you and Elijah were doing your thing, found that ‘Haruto Arakawa’ was a fake name, that he’s been using a fake name for both jobs and his apartment. I thought that if he were the killer, we didn’t have much time to waste, he could up and run off—he knew there was a witness who could identify him, there was no way he could stay in Pocklington.”
Maka leaned closer to him, running her fingers through his hair, grazing the bandage wrapped snuggly around his head. “So you went to chase down a killer, just yourself an a cop?” The way she asked was accusatory, but then she deflated and sighed. “I can’t blame you, you tried calling me.”
He grunted, leaning into her touch, eyes falling closed. He could fall back asleep right here and now, drawn to slumber by her gentle ministrations. But, he stayed awake, with some effort. “Found something else out when I went into his apartment.”
She hadn’t said anything to suggest that she knew the full story, had she not seen the apartment? Not heard about the photos?
Maka scratched him right at the base of his head and Soul felt a rumble in his throat. “What’d you find?”
“Oh? Oh! Oh, wow, just—wow. I didn’t, Haruto hadn’t seemed like the sort to be into those kinds of things.”
Soul leaned away from her touch as he snorted, he didn’t even need to look at her to see the blush. “Not those kinds of photos,” he corrected. “Photos of Amanda. All safe for work, don’t worry,” he added before Maka could speak. The humor was there, but then he let it die down as the severity of the situation sank back in.
He turned to look at her, red eyes staring into green. “Maka, there were a lot of photos. The wall was covered entirely in them. A lot of them were from when she was twelve, before she got kidnapped. But—A lot were current. Like they could have been taken last week kind of recent.”
There was a pause of silence, Maka had gone rigid as she looked to him, and Soul waited for what he said to dawn on her. “There were no photos recovered when the officers searched the apartment,” she said, slowly. Soul had been worried that’d be the case, it’d make sense for Haruto to hide the evidence of his involvement in the kidnappings. Still, Maka’s brows furrowed together, her lips pulled back into a tight frown.
“Haruto kidnapped Amanda.”
He dipped his head, nodding in agreement. “Can’t see any other way he’d have so many photos of her. She looked happy, but—looking happy for a photo is one thing, it doesn’t mean much. What we do know is that he has Amanda,” Soul said, reaching out to take hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Right now he’s our only living known link to these kidnappings. We need to find him.”
Maka groaned, leaning, and pressing her face into his shoulder, twisting her hand to hold his in return. “Soul, I love you, but you don’t know how much more that complicates things right now.”
Maka looked like she wanted to say more, but refrained as a quiet, nervous knock came from the door. Both weapon and meister turned to the doorway, the gentleness gathering on Maka’s face not going unnoticed by Soul. He was curious, though, to see who could be coming to visit him. Elijah surely wouldn’t have gotten such a warm expression from her unless something happened while the two were checking out corpses together.
He ran his hand through his hair, trying to make it look maybe not so much of a sloppy, lame mess for whoever was coming in, still curious. But his curiosity was answered quickly enough.
Soul dropped his hand back to his lap, staring at the doorway, surprised and just a bit happy, though mostly just surprised. “You’re awake,” Crona was standing awkwardly in the doorway with, oddly enough, a bouquet of flowers, though some looked missing, like a certain weapon took to plucking from the bundle just to be a nuisance. “I can go, if you were in the middle of something.”
“No,” Soul said, smiling and offering the other side of his bed for them. “Come on, stay. You’re not interrupting anything too important, and your company would be a breath of fresh air compared to hers.” He jabbed his chin in Maka’s direction, his grin growing at her insulted injection.
Crona looked relieved, stepping into the room, and still holding onto the flowers with long, trembling fingers, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with them now that the bouquet was in the room. “I brought—I thought I would bring you something. Carnations are okay, right? Ragnarok wanted to eat the flowers, he, ah, got a few, sorry.” They were rambling, edging closer to the bed, to Soul and Maka.
“I was trying to save him the embarrassment of having to accept such a lame gift!” Ragnarok sprouted from Crona’s back, leaning lazily against their frame as they made an attempt to swipe the bouquet again, only for Maka to reach out and swat his tiny fist out of the way. The weapon stuck his tongue out at her as she took the flowers from Crona, placing them in an empty vase beside the bed and let his unnatural eyes fall back on Soul. “You look fine. What, you got so soft that you’re hospitalized by just a single hit?”
Soul rolled his eyes, despite Ragnarok’s word, there was no animosity to it. “Sorry, not all of us are made of black blood,” he retorted, before patting the side of the bed once more, waiting until Crona had taken a seat. Ah, both S. O’s with him again, he’d missed that. Would have been better if it hadn’t taken a hospital trip for the early reunion. But beggars can’t be choosers. “What are you two doing here? You didn’t fly all the way down here just for me, did you?”
There it was again. That tension. The same one Maka had before they had been interrupted, the kind that told Soul that he was horribly out of the loop of something big.
“You don’t know yet?” Crona asked.
Maka sighed, burying her hands in her face. “I was about to tell him,” she said, and then quickly, apologetically, held a handout to Crona before they could say anything. “No, no, you didn’t interrupt. It’s actually better that you’re here for it.”
“Yeah!” She confirmed, reaching over Soul to hold Crona’s hand. “You know more of the bigger picture than I do. You’ve got more you could tell him than me. Save him from the whole debriefing he’s going to need from the Captain.”
Soul normally wouldn’t mind it. Maka was better at boosting Crona’s morale when they got into the self-blame territory than Soul was. But maybe right now wasn’t the best time when their conversation was only leaving him with more questions. “Okay, can someone explain to me what’s going on? I’d like to not be out of the loop.”
A squeak of surprise and a muttered apology, the two separated. Soul rolled his eyes and nestled into his pillows, trying to find a comfortable way to sit before turning to Maka. “You said the whole thing with Haruto is complicating things,” he said, and then turned to Crona, “And the way you’re acting, I don’t think you came down just to check up on me. So, one of you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Only a pause, and then they told him. Maka explained the connection the murder had with a case Elijah worked a few years back, Crona explained the similarities the murder had with the killer his team’s been chasing after. They told him of the missing hearts, the torture, of the profiles Interpol made, and the victims from the London case. Of the differences they had, but how the similarities were too much to just overlook.
They told him everything they had known.
And when they were done, Soul’s head was spinning more than it had when he awoke.
He stared at them, and took in a deep, even breath, and stared at them some more. His mind was still processing, the loading bad still inching along like an old internet browser. Then, he raised his head to stare ta the ceiling, at the fan lazily spinning above.
“You weren’t kidding when you said this complicates things,” Soul confessed.
The Podcast Killer. Possibly the culprit behind the London murders some five or so years back. Notorious international serial killer who neither Interpol nor the DWMA had caught yet. A sadistic, violent killer. Who may very well be Haruto Arakawa. While Haruto himself may even be involved in the kidnappings going on in the region for the past few years.
Child kidnapper, international serial killer.
Were the cases truly by the same man? Or had they simply crossed paths and become intwined? It was hard to accept that they had been around a serial killer, that they had crossed paths with him multiple times and never once actually, genuinely suspected him of anything.
But that was the point of the mask, was it not? Whoever the guy was, ‘Haruto Arakawa’ was never meant to arouse suspicion.
But, if that was the case—why hadn’t he killed Soul? Why hadn’t he killed Watson? He had the opportunity, and he was already identified as a killer by a witness, there was nothing for him to lose, just kill the two and flee, take on a new name and a new face, and he could easily slip into hiding once more.
Souls head began hurting once more. This was too much to think about so soon after waking up, too much to process. Too many theories, possibilities, too many what-if’s racing through his head.
“Soul, get some rest,” Maka said, gentling pushing him back to lay down as she and Crona got off the bed. She must have noticed his tiredness, though it was probably a side effect of whatever painkillers the docs had him on. Was he on painkillers? “Just, get some sleep, we’ll come back to this once you’re up and ready again.”
Crona pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, offering a small smile, worried and concerned, but a smile. “We’re going to find him, okay? We’re not letting him get away, not—not after what he’s done. So you need to rest, so that you can join Maka in the field.”
He groaned, but his eyes were already feeling heavy. “Got it,” he muttered.
Their voices began to drift away, though they were still in the room with him. His head ached; his ears had an incessant ringing to them. His mind flashed to that moment in the apartment, to those vivid green eyes he saw before passing out, the pain as the bat struck his skull, the wild look in those eyes.
Who was Haruto?
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Comm for Soulice! Maria, his version of Eibon's wife! :D
I'm very proud of the eyes especially~
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Kid: you, guys, have a nice place here, it's so tidy. You must pick a point of keeping it clean.
Soul: it helps when Maka yells at me whenever I make a mess
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flashing steel in tender flesh (weapons of children, children of weapons)
chapter 2: you are broken and timeless (let me hold you, cherish you)
pairing: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
SoMa Week, Day 2: healing
i love you, they say in so many forms, in so many ways.
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Soul sketch dump
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my math teacher: math is hard
me on tumblr searching for soul eater fan art even though i’m failing his class:
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I tried making a Venn diagram but it was too much...
Just saying the key words are: necromancer, unhinged, needs some sleep, loves wife, lab coat and stitches.
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SoMa Week 2021 Day One: Burn
Pairing: SoMa (Soul x Maka)
Fandom: Soul Eater
Note: This is my first time participating in SoXa week! Also its my finals week so im stressed about tests and my second vaccine dose is kicking my butt but I thought instead of studying, lets write a fic. I’ve been really into soul eater recently and started the manga, so you’ll see some new fics for it here and there. Anyways, enjoy!
Her view of love had burnt out a long time ago. She was hopeful at times to think someone could be loyal and love her for eternity but that fear of being left behind and abandoned again would destroy any hope of that.
She had thought it was written in stone. From a young age she didn’t think about marriage, didn’t care about relationships because she wasn’t willing to risk the burn marks on her heart for just a sliver of satisfaction. There was nothing anyone could say to her to change her mind, she knew that, more importantly, he knew that.
But slowly that mindset started to challenge her heart. The moment she asked Soul to be her partner when they were teenagers, she felt a spark. It was small and only lasted a fraction of a second when he said yes and gave her a smirk she dared not say she liked. For a moment she had forgotten about her pact, never fall in love, but it came back quickly as it left.
She repeated those words more frequently than not. The mirror had begun to memorize the movement of her lips as she looked at herself and scolded anything that remotely resembled a romantic interest.
Every so often a brave boy would come up to her with a card and some flowers and try his hand at Maka’s heart. She would be as kind as possible to turn them down but she never missed the way Soul’s lips turned up into a smirk. Soon she was seen as untouchable, no one could woo her or they would be too threatened by Soul to even try.
It was a relief to Soul to see boys not trying to win over Maka but a part of him wondered if she would ever let herself fall for anyone.
“Do we really have to go to this dance?” Soul grumbled as he fixed his tie for the tenth time.
Maka sighed from the bathroom. “Yes Soul. Its our duty as successful students to make an appearance. Plus I heard that there is going to be good food.”
Soul rolled his eyes as he plopped onto the couch. “Its been five years since we graduated, do people even care about us?” He smirked as he heard her scoff from the hallway.
“No, Im sure no one cares about the current death weapon or the amazing person who not only made said weapon but is also one of the best teachers at the academy.”
“Relax Maka, I’m just teasing. Now hurry up or we are gonna be late and I am not about to be scolded by Kid for that.”
“Alright.” She huffed and finished her makeup with a swipe of lip gloss. “I’m coming. How do I look?” She asked.
It was a simple question, one he was used to answering often with a “fine. good. who cares, lets go.” But lately he's been trying to hold in his actual thoughts.
Maka stared at him, those olive green eyes that he became more attracted to lately. There was an untacked about chemistry that had been hovering around them for the past few years and slowly, he was loosing the battle on keeping it in place.
Her dress was black with off the shoulder sleeves and cut off mid-thigh. Something classy and elegant but still fun to twirl in. Her heels boosted her to his eye level and her hair was up in an updo with some blonde framing her face.
“Soul?” She asked him and he cleared his throat before grabbing his keys.
“Uh, you look perfect. We should really be going.” Way to be cool about it, he scolded himself.
Maka grabbed her purse and followed him out the door. Deep down she could feel a small spark of desire flare but quickly, she pushed it down and got into the car.
The dance was nothing less than perfection. Every dish, napkin, balloon and streamer was in a proper place with symmetry as its main function. Kid apparently had spent a week decorating the place himself just to insure that it was nothing less than his standards.
“He really out did himself, huh?” Soul commented as he looked around the room.
“He sure did.” Maka said.
There were a mix of students and faculty on the dance floor already. Kid was standing towards the back with Black Star while Tsubaki, Patty and Liz were chatting near them.
“It brings me back to when you forced me to these thing when we were kids.” Soul said as they made their way across the room.
Maka laughed. “Guess things haven’t changed much.”
They parted ways, Soul going towards the guys and Maka joining the girls.
“Oh Maka you look so cute!” Patty complimented her.
Maka smiled. “You all look so good too.”
Liz finished her drink before looking towards the boys. “I bet Soul likes this number on you.” She winked and Maka took a glass on a near by tray and gulped it down.
“Aww don’t tease the clueless love birds.” Tsubaki giggled.
“There nothing to tell.” Maka tried to reason but none of the girls believed her for a moment. “I’m not even his type.” She rushed out and Liz almost started to choke on her drink.
“Are you kidding? The smartest girl in the school, no the city and she's dumb as a rock when it comes to the love sick scythe.”
Maka swatted Liz’s arm and rolled her eyes. Behind her she heard someone clear their throat.
She turned to see Peter, a fellow teacher who specialized in weapon training of the lower grade levels.
“Oh hi Peter, how are you?” Maka greeted and the rest of the girls waved politely.
“Good. I was wondering if you wanted to dance maybe?” He asked.
She expected to hear the girls snickering and giggling but instead she was met with silence and a smug cough from Liz.
“Oh, uh.” She started.
“Come on, it will be fun.” He said and took her hand, pulling her to the dance floor without giving her a chance.
A small squeak escaped her lips as she almost crashed into his chest. His hands found their way to her hips as he swayed to the music. Although she had always found their conversations nice and refreshing, he wasn’t the type of man that was, well, her type.
“You know Maka, I’ve always admired you.” He said.
She looked up at him and offered a polite smile. “Oh really?”
“So brave and smart, makes sense that the top teacher was also the top student.”
She laughed slightly. “Well I couldn’t have done it without my partner.”
Peter quickly caught his frown. “Yeah, Soul. Nice dude.”
“He likes to consider himself a ride or die.” She smiled to herself.
Peter grunted something she couldn’t make out and spun her around. She saw Soul walking towards the balcony doors just as she came back to Peter’s front.
“Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me, you know, like a date?”
Maka stopped in her tracks. Date. No. She didn’t want that. She gave up on that a long time ago.
“Look Peter, you’re a nice guy and I have a great time working with you, but I’m just not looking for anything.”
“Oh. I just thought you and I we're getting to be good friends.”
“Well I like chatting with you and grading stuff but I really am not into dating right now. Sorry.”
“I get it, Soul would be jealous.” He scoffed and stepped back. “ I should have listened.”
“Listened to what?” She demanded.
He had the audacity to smile at her. “Oh please. Ever since school, everyone knew that it was you and Soul. I just thought that since nothing has happened yet, you would be on the market.”
That rubbed her the wrong way and her face turned sour.
“Well sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not some slab of meat. See you on Monday.” She scoffed and walked away from him. Instead of going back to her friends, she stormed towards the balcony and greeted the cool air to help calm her down.
“That was quick.” Soul teased and he held out his hand to help her up, making sure her dress didn’t get caught.
“Quick enough for a dance just to ask me out and get mad when I said no.”
Soul turned towards her. “Oh? Another ego bruised?”
“He said he had been waiting for me to be on the market.” She spat. “Disgusting behavior.”
Soul let out a laugh and threw his arm over her shoulder. “Men are stupid, you’re smart to not go near them.”
“You’re not stupid, most of the time.” She mumbled.
“The difference between me and those guys is I’ve had my ass handed to me by you. I know not to mess with the bull. Plus, I actually have respect for you and women, like a cool person should.”
“Yeah. He then said that you would be jealous.”
They watched the sun begin to set slowly. Sometimes Maka wondered what it would feel like to be the sun. Eternal warmth. Being a constant in peoples lives. She looked to Soul who seemed a little lost in thought. That spark coming to the surface and she wondered why she didn’t allow herself to what she wanted.
For years she had made sure that their partnership never faltered from that. She couldn’t risk anything happening to them because she wasn’t sure if she would be able to trust another weapon the way she did with him. She also didn’t want to partner with anyone else.
She enjoyed his company. Enjoyed the way that he could make her smile and feel comfortable. Most importantly, he stuck to his word. She never once felt like he would leave and when he said he was going to be there, she believed him.
Sometimes she wished she could just scream at him and tell him that she had been in love with him for years. That her talks about marriage and love never once applied to him and if he asked, she would be his forever.
“I think he's right.” Soul started. “Its always been you and me. I probably wouldn’t like the attention taken. Stupid, I know.”
“Its not, because I think I know why no one else sparks my interest.” She took a breath and stared at him. Those crimson eyes that held a sense of comfort and form of love that was now crystal clear. “I don’t think anyone else comes close to how I see you. The stolen glances and walking on the eggshells of feelings I pushed down long ago. I get it now Soul. You never asked because you waited for me.”
He let out a laugh from his chest and jumped down before offering his hand. “The moment I met you Maka? I knew we were end game, I was just hoping you saw it too.”
When she looked at Soul, she could sense the last little flames igniting. She could have crushed them, put them out with the bottom of her shoe and never let them rise again. She could of finally removed all the pain her parents marriage caused her and not let anything happen to her heart.
And when she thought that her idea of love was burnt to a crisp, she didn’t realize that those tiny embers had slowly grown into a burning fire. Only one person fanned the flames of her heart and she wonders why she couldn’t see it all those years ago.
But instead she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but trust. His smile was genuine and there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he waited for her answer. Deep down the embers sparked as she took his hand and she felt the fire take over.
She took his hand and he gently pulled her close until their noses touch and he placed a kiss on her knuckles. She could barely hear the music playing inside but it felt like a symphony was surrounding them. He began to hum a tune and stepped to lead her in their dance.
She giggled as he twirled her. It felt freeing, it felt right, it was perfect. He brought her back to his chest and with a big smile, he looked down at her.
“Can I kiss you?”
He pulled her close, taking her lips and kissing her just like he wanted to for as long as he could remember. Her lips were soft and he could feel the curl of her lips as she smiled against him.
The fire within her erupted brighter than before. The sense of longing for another began to be fulfilled and any doubts she had began to shrink. Any doubts she had with Soul had been long gone. He was her constant, the person who was always there no matter what. She never had to ask or even say a word for him to be by her side.
Her idea of love had been crushed when she had been a girl. She had thought that no one could change that. Perhaps she would spend her life not knowing what life could have been with a full heart.
But as she held Soul close to her, it became clear that he was the one to hold the match to those embers. He was a reminder that love could exist and be devoted to another.
He was the fire that burned in her heart and she gladly excepted the warmth.
“Hey Soul?” She whispered against his lips.
“I love you.”
She didn’t think his smile could get any bigger as he told her the same and kissed her again.
I hope you enjoyed :)
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I think I have a type for my favorite characters ...
So ... I immediately thought of them
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Nothing is stopping me from drawing Stein with Nagito sprites sgdvdbbdbdbdv
What do you think his talent would be if he was an ultimate?
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Thank you for sending in the number!
4. What defines your artistic style?
Hmmmmmm..... frankly I'm not so sure how to answer this question. I feel like people who often see my art could recognize my artstyle better than myself tbh >////<
But anyway, some art friends had commented several times about my thick, bold, and confident lines, which is more clearly shown in my traditional works, such as:
The left one was from 2019, the right one from 2021
Even before I switched to brushpens I think my artlines are already bold though
Also, idk who said that but... the way I draw jawlines and necks, apparently? I know I tend to hover towards realistic proportions, but idk?
I think my artstyle in general leans towards the seinen spectrum? I certainly don't go all cute lmao
Other noticeable features is maybe the colors? I do prefer warm undertones after all.
Tell me what part of my art that makes you guys go 'Oh it's Zi!' ^^
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I suck at writing but it’s 12 am, the perfect time for a bland and overdone au idea!!
I don’t know what setting this could take place in, but I’d love to explore two different types of immortality using Asura and Vajra.
Asura is basically a god, so he would live forever as a singular conscious in a single body, as one unmoving point in time.
Vajra, could be the opposite? Upon death, he can be born into a random body somewhere in the world, either with his memories intact or not. He’d be flexible, each experience in these different lifetimes molding and shaping him.
I dunno I just think their perspectives on life and humanity would be pretty interesting. There that’s my sucky reincarnation/ soul mates au???
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Say It To The Camera [Somaweek 2021] Day 1 : Burn
So yeah. I write. lmao. idk if I could finish the week but anyway I’m trying.
Originally, Soul Evans just wants to separate his professional and private lives and stream his contents in peace, thank you very much. But as usual, a certain roommate of his is nothing but a headache. Unfortunately, said roommate is very pretty and Soul Evans is a weak, weak man.
Or, in which Soul Evans is a famous streamer, and his fans had an ongoing fierce battle on whether his mysterious roommate is actually his girlfriend or not. [SoMa Week 2021 Collection]
@deathchildren : omg who he yelling at
@underthecemetery : did that person cause the fire?
@soulsenpaiswife : poor Soul-senpai
@shibusenstud421000 : is that Eater's infamous mysterious ROOMMATE??
@witchhunt : oh ur right it's her!!
@its_on_you : pardon?? Roommate?? Who??
@psychedelicsouljam : you're definitely a new fan
@socoolbabyscandalous : it's a common fandom knowledge that Soul has a female roommate, fondly nicknamed 'pigtails', 'fat ankles', or 'shorty' by him
@urlocalwitch : whom he's so whipped for
@jack_O_l4ntern : whom he's so whipped for (2)
@psychedelicsouljam : whom he's so whipped for (3)
@smokinghotglock : whom he's definitely so whipped for
read the rest on AO3 ✨✨✨
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Getting back into Soul Eater because its on Netflix and i dont understand how there isnt more fanfiction/content on the Black Star and Tsubaki partnership (and Tsubaki in general)
Tsubaki is noted to be one of if not the strongest student currently in the academy which we all forget about because shes good at fading into the background
Masamune has pointed out that Tsubaki's way of pretending to be okay/strong is by focusing on and taking care of other people and shes scary good at it
Tsubaki is canonicly one of the few people on Earth who's capable of syncing up with Black Star. That alone can lead to a whole lot of fic ideas
Black Star is incredibly talented and driven. Tsubaki is a incredibly￼ strong and versatile weapon, in both skill and soul. Black Star boasts about how he's going to be a god one day and this pairing could actually get there
Black Star boasts about how hes going to be a god, and Tsubaki is the best weapon he could have by his side to complete that picture: loyal, skilled, super rare special abilities, hardly ever stops him/questions him, does a lot of things for him she doesnt need to do, and the/one of the most attractive girls in school. Like come on guys its picture perfect for him AND HE DID IT ALL BY GETTING LUCKY that Tsubaki agreed to be his partner like he had no idea about any of that outside of how pretty she is going into that partnership
Outsiders constantly comment how they dont get their partnership but both Stein and Lord Death himself comment on how good they are for each other personally
I honestly dont think Tsubaki could ever reach her full potential without Black Star's crazy determination. How many people would work tirelessly and undergo painful training in order to work with her Enchanted Sword? He embarrassingly passed out infront of people so many times in trying to use Enchanted Sword. How many people would have given up? How many people would be to scared to use Enchanted Sword after the first time? How many times would Tsubaki have actually asked a partner to use Enchanted Sword after her first possession?
When Black Star quietly tells her about his tattoo and that he's the last of his clan she gasps and touches the star on her chest in a way that implies he asked her to wear his family symbol AKA he sees her as family and he never told her out of the fear he had of her leaving him after Masamune
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Here’s my Day 1 post for Soma Week 2021. Tooth-rotting fluff towards the end - please enjoy. ^-^
Maka awoke with an audible groan, first registering the lack of her weapon’s familiar soul wavelength in the room before anything else. Whether she was disappointed or grateful of his absence was difficult to determine in her hazy mindstate.
Soul had been fussing over her for the past day, and while his concern for her comfort was endearing - his mother hen routine got old fast.
His over-attentive behavior was at least understandable. He had little to do cooped up in their hotel room, and ended up alternating between watching cooking shows at a considerately low volume, pacing around what little square footage they had, and laying in his bed beside hers tapping out the rhythm to whatever was blaring from his headphones. He was sure to pester her about how she was feeling at least every 20 minutes and his restlessness had been grinding on her last nerve before she fell into a fitful sleep.
If she had to hear “you okay?” or “need anything?” one more time, she was liable to snap and throw the closest object to her directly at his dumb, fluffy head. Not that he actually deserved it.
If she were being honest with herself, she was mostly frustrated with the situation itself - not Soul.
Well, maybe she was a little frustrated with Soul.
He may have been outwardly kind towards her in her predicament, but she could feel something else beneath the surface of that. She was well-versed in the subtle language of Soul’s facial expressions after all.
He was dying to tease her, and while she commended him for keeping his mouth blessedly shut about the humor in her suffering - she knew it amused him at least a little bit.
Because despite the fact that they had been sent to the bustling beach-side city of Recife, Brazil to take down a particularly cunning and repulsive kishin - she was not stuck in bed over any kind of work-related injury inflicted during their battle with the corrupted beast.
There was no glory or dignity that could be gained from the current state of her weakness. She had not received her injuries from a tense and thrilling battle, but instead from being negligent in her application of sunscreen before falling asleep splayed out on a beach towel under the unforgiving afternoon sun.
Soul had even recommended that she apply sunscreen a second time for her “hella pasty” skin and she responded to his comment in kind by throwing the sunscreen bottle at him with impressive accuracy and force.
Now she was bedridden with what was likely sun poisoning and had a complexion comparable to a hot dog.
Perhaps she should have taken Soul’s advice after all.
She also may have reached her last straw with Soul’s smothering behavior earlier and said something along the lines of “please get the hell out of here and give me at least an hour of peace,” before taking her rather unsatisfying nap.
That certainly explained his absence.
She let out a heavy sigh before deciding she would deal with the pain of moving so that she could re-apply aloe vera for the twentieth time that day. Only this was the first time she would be doing it without Soul’s assistance.
It was difficult to reach most areas of her back without him. She was certainly flexible enough to do it on her own, but the pain that came with stretching her arms was something she would prefer to avoid experiencing if possible.
She started on lathering her arms and chest area first, grounding herself in the way it stung yet soothed at the same time.
She only got through a small portion of her back before the combination of fatigue, nausea, and pain convinced her to give it a rest.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just figure out where Soul was. She didn’t need him or anything. She was just checking in - making sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble while she was asleep.
She made an awkward hobble across the room to retrieve her phone, careful to avoid bending her scorched appendages on the way there.
It only took a ring and a half for Soul to pick up her call, and she cursed herself for the way her entire body relaxed a little at the sound of his voice.
“Hey. Everything alright?”
He had that pleasant gravelly quality to his voice that usually indicated he either just woke up or he had a few drinks.
“I’m fine, Soul. I just woke up, actually. What have you been up to?” she’d tried to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice when she tried to lower herself back on to the bed betrayed her. The soft cotton sheets felt like they may as well have been a brillo pad against her sensitive flesh.
“Just givin’ you space like you asked. Found a neat little place to drink just down the road from us. To be honest with you, I think it might be a swinger bar or somethin’ - everyone here is middle aged and horny as hell.”
Maka felt a twinge of irritation at that last comment. Was he really off flirting with a bunch of Brazillian cougars while she was stuck in bed?
“S’not like I’m interested, but they keep buyin’ me drinks anyway. I don’t speak very good Portuguese and they seem to think that’s pretty sexy of me,” he added with a throaty chuckle that raised goosebumps across her skin.
“Why don’t you just stay there all night then! I could care less what you do!!”
She felt a bit childish for her outburst, but blamed it on Soul’s innate ability to push every last button she has in very few words.
“If you don’t care, then why’d ya call me in the first place?” She could just tell that his lip was curling into a smirk by his voice alone. Oh, he is so lucky he’s not in book-throwing distance.
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere,” she murmured with only a little bit of edge left in her.
“Oh yeah? That all?”
“.... Also, I guess you can come back to the hotel room.”
“Sorry? Can you speak up a little?”
“I said you can come back to the hotel room! Don’t make me say it again or you can sleep on the streets!”
He responded with an amused snort, “Oh, that’s very gracious of you. What a loving and benevolent meister I have.”
“Yeah, whatever. Don’t fall in a ditch on your way here.”
“Love ya too, Maka. Be there in a few.”
With that the phone call cut off, and she was left staring at the ceiling and feeling an overwhelming warmth in her face.
She decided to blame that on the sunburn rather than her weapon’s comment.
It only took about 20 minutes before she heard the click of the hotel door as it swung open, her partner poking his head in first and flashing her a shark-toothed smile before he kicked the door open the rest of the way. He was carrying an entire pack of drinks under his arm and a plastic CVS bag in the other.
“Stopped by CVS round the corner. Dunno if you’ll like ‘em, but I got these weird electrolyte drinks. S’posed to help hydrate you better or something,” he said as he plopped down at the end of the bed, emptying the contents of the plastic bag.
“Also got you some ibuprofen, more aloe, and a couple snack things. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you should really try and eat at least a little bit.”
Maka only nodded, slightly overwhelmed by how caring he was being despite her recently sour attitude.
He tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding her with gentle eyes before he got up and sat closer to her on the bed, being especially careful not to let his legs touch hers.
He slowly placed the back of his hand against her forehead muttering something about a fever, but she was too focused on his close proximity to her to even register what he was saying. He smelled of beer and limes and sunscreen.
His skin was a perfect bronze color, and he was showing off a lot more of it than he usually did. He was clad only in swim trunks, slider sandals, and a loose-hanging tank top that the top of his scar peeked out of.
He had been out in the sun just as long as she had, napping right beside her even, and yet his skin only tanned; never burned. The lucky bastard.
He used the same hand he’d checked her forehead with to brush back a few stray hairs from her face. “Sleep okay?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he were worried his voice would bother her.
“I slept okay, I guess. Not much else I can do right now anyways.”
He nodded and gave a sympathetic click of his tongue, running his hand through her hair a few times before reaching for the aloe on the nightstand.
“Need me to get your back?”
She ignored his question, opting to rub the short-cropped silver whiskers covering his jaw with her palm.
“You need to shave.”
He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff, squeezing the tube of aloe into his palms and rubbing them together.
“I’ll just take that as a yes and pretend you think I’m roguishly handsome.”
That earned him a laugh from her that clipped short when he placed his hands softly on her back. It only hurt for the first brief moment of contact, but she soon hummed her approval as the stinging sensation in her back felt dulled and soothed wherever his hands caressed her.
He was talented with his hands - knew just the right amount of pressure to give and take at each moment. She really had needed this. Trying to reach that spot between her shoulder blades on her own had been a nightmare.
Minutes passed with only the sounds of their breath and Soul’s practiced hands over her skin. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Everything was just easy with him.
He acknowledged her with a noncommittal grunt.
“Thank you. I know I haven’t exactly been pleasant lately, but I really do appreciate all of your help.”
She wanted to say more, it felt as though she hadn’t really expressed to him how much he means to her, but Soul wasn’t one for flowery words and declarations of love. She knew that was enough of a thanks for him.
“You don’t gotta thank me for all that, Maka. We’re partners, this is what we do for each other.”
“Right,” she whispered, a faint smile gracing her lips.
“All done,” he announced, “you gonna hang tight and read for a bit?”
“No - I’d like to, but I just feel too tired and nauseous to focus on anything like that right now. Maybe I’ll just try to take another nap.”
Without a word, he sauntered over to the book she had brought - a period-piece romance novel that he would make fun of at the first given opportunity. After it was in his grasp, he collapsed on his back right next to her. He really did kind of reek of beer, but she didn’t have the heart to push him away.
Once he found her bookmarked spot, he started from the top of the page with a hardy clear of his throat, reading the lead male love interest’s lines in the most posh and ridiculous accent she could have imagined.
She immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles and snorts, which only encouraged him to continue, smiling from ear to ear as he did.
She nearly ran out of breath when he began reading the female heroine’s dialogue in a shrill voice that sounded more like an old British nanny than a pretty young woman.
He continued this entertainment for an admirable hour and a half before he had to admit that his vocal cords were defeated from the strain of ‘fancy British lady voice.’
By the time he had put the book aside, she had a hand curled around his bicep and her face was buried in his neck.
He’d said he was watching TV, but he fell asleep within 10 minutes of setting her book down much like an old man.
Her skin felt dry and tight, a feeling she was easily able to ignore while Soul was reading for her. She was aware that she’d need to get up soon to re-apply aloe, or she’d regret it later. Yet, it was so difficult to move away from him.
He was breathing deeply, and he smelled less like a bar and more like a beach the closer she was to him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept too. He looked young, like he didn’t carry the exhaustion that he usually does.
Despite the calm, collected demeanor he always tried to hold around others - he carried a lot of weight on his shoulders from pretending to be the person that other people need him to be. From taking the load off other people’s backs, he only strained himself and she felt this tiredness from it all that seeped into the very cracks of his soul.
She wished he didn’t have to try so hard all the time. She wished he could let himself be taken care of for once.
“I know you told me before that I don’t need to thank you. That the things you do for me are what I should expect from a partner, but you really are more than that to me, Soul,” she’d only whispered this into the crook of his neck, but she lifted her head up just to check that he was still unconscious.
He appeared serene, his breathing steady and not a crinkle in his face to indicate her words had disturbed him from his slumber.
“You can always depend on me too. I’d love to take care of you the way you take care of me. You deserve that - you know that, right?”
Not even a twitch.
She sighed, not expecting him to respond in the first place, but a little disappointed she hadn’t had the courage to tell him this while he was awake. She assumed it safe that he was in a deep sleep and began threading her fingers through his thick tufts of hair sticking up from his forehead.
“I know that when you say you love me, you’re talking about as a partner, as a friend. Well, I love you too. I love you a lot, Soul. I’m always afraid to say it back ... because it would carry a different weight when I say it. It’s like I’m afraid you’d just know.”
His breath hitched for a moment and her heart nearly jumped into her throat.
He only readjusted slightly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and making a small sound akin to a whimper before his breathing evened out again.
She let out the shaky breath she had been holding and turned her head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to his throat, where she could feel the warmth of his pulse.
“I hope we stay partners for a really long time.”
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Reading all these Soul Eater fanfics where the weapon and miester ￼pairs stay together forever (even after becoming Death Scythes) but im also rewatching the show rn and that doesnt seem to be the case. Out of all the adults no one has a permeant partner (if im wrong know that im only on ep 20 in my rewatch rn) unless Sid and Nygus were always partners and we just never saw them together before ep 18. Spirit is wielded by three people in his lifetime: Stein, Maka's mom, Lord Death. We are told Stein can pair with anyone due to his wavelength and is seen wielding both Spirit and Marie. Marie has had multiple unnamed partners. A impression is given that all the Death Scythes arent still working with their original miesters. Maka also remarks in ep 4 that Sid is a Three Star Miester (aka the highest level) and is impressed with his ability to use anything as a weapon, which implies that he has years of experience in not using the same partner.
Its kinda sad how people who are so close dont stay close as they get older... which kinda makes sense because the people you hang out with when you're 13 arent the people you hang out with when you're 23
Who knows maybe all the adults we see are actually exceptions to the rule
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wow so I found my old drawings and this is the first thing I saw, yeah it doesn't look like it, but it's Maka Albarn and Soul Eater 😂 hmm should I post my SoMa fic too🤔
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My contribution for SoMa Week 2021! @soulxmakaweek
i couldn’t post it as a video or link directly so pls bear with me ><
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