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mytheoristavenue · 5 months

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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."

#soul eater fanfic #soul eater #soul evans #soul eater evans #soul x reader #soul evans x reader #soul eater x reader #lemon's 25 days of christmas #chirstmas even

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takeyourcyanide · 20 days

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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.”

#soul eater #franken stein #stein soul eater #stein #dr stein #spirit albarn #dwma #spirit soul eater #lord death #shinigami sama #marie mjolnir #takeyourcyanide #my fanfiction #soul eater fanfic #hurt/comfort #self h@rm

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cannibal-nightmares · 10 days

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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.

#six sentence sunday #seven sentence sunday #writing meme #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fanfic #tag meme

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memethebum · 21 days

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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.”

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #wes evans #soul eater fanfic #ao3 fic #meme attempts to write

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cronavirus-ragnareich · 1 month

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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.

#innocent child #soul eater fanfic #crona my beloved #selfship #anime crona #hurt/comfort #empathy #infantilism #canon vs fanon #fandom gatekeepers #fandom supremacy #just leave me the fuck alone

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froggbones · 1 day

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Paradise Found, a summer camp AU 🏖️

Read my ongoing fic here!

#soul eater #soul eater au #soul eater fanart #soul eater fanfic #maka albarn #soul evans #soul eater evans #fanart #summer camp au #summer camp #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fluff #angst #digital art #maka albarn fanart #soul evans fanart #procreate

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eats-your-soul · 9 months

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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

#soul eater oc #Soul eater #Soul eater fanfic #Graphic novel/manga #I'm trying my best #Wip #I've never done this before #Soul Eater Wip #Sneak peek

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graylinesspam · 21 days

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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.

#Maka Albarn #soul eater #soul Evans #ask game #fanfic #soul eater fanfic

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dwmaudio · 9 months

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Dear Soul Eater community!

We love our fanfic, we love our audio books, now it’s time to put the two together! Think you have the acting chops to bring your favorite fanfics to life? Or maybe you’re the writing talent wanting to hear your creation!

Voice actors, please complete the following form to be part of this awesome project: https://gforms.app/ki2uA2w

Authors or those who love fanfic may submit scenes via Asks or Submit a Post and we will work on putting them together.

We will post completed works here for everyone to share as well as links to the original fics so you can enjoy the full experience.

Thank you to all for helping make this project happen! We’re so excited to get this going!

#soul eater #souleater #soul eater fandom #soul eater fic #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fanfic #dwmaudio

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bcbdrums · 7 months

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Grasping for the Wind - pt. 6

First Chapter | Previous Chapter Read on: AO3 FFn

A Soul Eater story. It's about Stein and Spirit. Inspired by this fanart.

A/N: Gonna try to update faster... Maybe. Anyway, here's the big moment everyone's been waiting for.

Part 6

Stein closed his eyes and tried to eliminate distractions. No matter how tightly he held onto the staff, his hands felt weak. They were sweating, as if his own body was trying to prevent him from holding the weapon.

"How does it feel?" Griffin said, the invisible voice still approaching. "You're not getting to do what you want anymore, are you. But you still can Franken, with me."

Stein grit his teeth and looked up to where he knew the man must be standing. He was within reach.

"Stein? What are you waiting for!?" Spirit asked.

"Yes, what are you waiting for?" Griffin said, directly in front of him now.

Stein took a breath and found it shallow.

"Soul Force!"

"...Stein!?"

Griffin began cackling, because the hand Stein had abruptly thrust out to strike him, while it did impact the invisible body, had failed to deal the expected blow of Stein's soul wavelength. Stein took a step back and looked at his clammy hands.

Weak. Empty. Just like they had been in the classroom all those years ago.

"What's happening!? What's wrong!?" Spirit cried.

"Even your own soul is telling you to join me," Griffin said. He cleared his throat, and then his voice became dark and menacing. "I'll make it easier for you. What if I eliminate one of your obstacles?"

Just as thunder follows a bolt of lightning, Stein understood the warning too late to stop what he realized was going to happen. His hands returned to the staff to yank Spirit out of harm's way at the same moment he heard numerous impacts of metal upon metal, and then the horrible scraping like nails on a chalkboard.

"No!" he cried as Griffin became visible again, revealing both of his arms had transformed to trap Spirit's blade between them.

Griffin had been a morning star—a bludgeon with two-inch spikes sticking out of the shot put sized ball at the end of the short handle. But now he had turned both of his arms into a far more dangerous version of himself, the spikes protruding all around the length of his forearms up to his elbows. Stein watched in horror as the attack was dealt, Griffin swiping both arms down forcefully, scraping the shining blade of the scythe that Stein had left vulnerable. And the steel itself, impossibly, began to bleed.

"No! Don't—!" Stein shouted again as he knew again what was about to happen, but it was too late.

It was with a sharp cry of pain that Spirit had transformed out of weapon form, injured from the vicious blow. But that proved to be the fatal error as Griffin pressed his forearms hard into the torso of the now-human death scythe, an evil rumble sounding from within his chest as the spikes now had something to sink into. Time seemed to slow as Stein watched Griffin yank his arms down across Spirit's body, rending flesh from bone. The sound of Spirit's chest and back being ripped apart by the spikes was drowned out almost immediately by his scream of agony, and the rumble of laughter in Griffin's chest erupted into a triumphant guffaw, the man stepping back and doubling over as he reveled in his victory.

Stein was on his knees in an instant, catching Spirit as he fell. He felt the heat of blood saturating his clothes as Spirit gasped for breath, rapidly going into shock, and a terror Stein had never before felt anchored him to the sand. Above them their enemy towered, silhouetted by the rising sun as he raised his spiked arms in triumph, blood dripping from the deadly weapons down to the golden sand.

"Better now?" Griffin said, and Stein looked up as a strange numbness slowly swept his being, beginning to bury the paralyzing fear. A broad and crazed smile was bisecting Griffin's face as he transformed his arms and doubled over again, setting his hands on his knees as he barely bothered to stop laughing while he spoke. "No more Death Scythe! No more big brother watching over your shoulder to stop you each time you want to be free!"

Stein felt a small pull at his shoulder and glanced down to see blood, and then realized that Spirit's fingers were weakly gripping his coat. He watched Spirit's eyes start to lose focus as his soul began to weaken.

"Shake off the chains of the DWMA," Griffin said, his tone now giddy. "You and I together can depose Lord Death and finally create a free world!"

Stein looked up again. Griffin was still employing Soul Protect, but he felt he could see through him nonetheless beyond the laughter and boast. And he was far from the bright young classmate he had once known.

He pursed his lips, words failing him, but then looked down with a sharp intake of breath as he felt the grip at his shoulder weaken. He watched Spirit's eyes glaze over as his bloodied hand slipped away and heavily hit the sand.

"Hehhehehheh..."

Stein felt a strange desire to hold on tighter, but instead he carefully lay Spirit on his side. He looked at the dried blood on his face and then down to the wash of red below, intermixed with the tatters of the green shirt and the pink of torn flesh beneath it all.

He slowly rose to his feet and lifted his arms. Where he'd caught Spirit his sleeves were entirely red with the slick, fresh blood. Then his gaze rose to his hands. Peripherally he saw Griffin straighten up, his mad laughter finally ceasing.

"So. Which world do you choose, Franken Stein?"

Stein stared at his hands and the smears of blood now staining them. He knew what had gone wrong.

He had allowed Griffin's taunts to weaken his resolve. He had doubted what he knew to be true, and doubted himself. Doubted his place. And thanks to that weakness he had permitted to enter his soul...

He looked back at Spirit, lifeless and with long, unnatural shadows of the slough grass falling over his unmoving form under the rising sun.

"He was always so bossy, anyway."

Stein looked back at Griffin. The grin on his face was sickening.

"Soul Force!"

This time, his resolve was sure. The electricity that manifested out of his wavelength sizzled from his hand over and into his opponent at the same time a sonic shock wave from the speed of the attack cracked in the air around them.

Griffin's eyes were wide with surprise, not having expected the blow, and his grunt of pain came out strangled as he coughed up blood as a result of the fierce attack.

Stein swept his former compatriot's feet out from under him while he was distracted, dropping him hard on his back. He immediately knelt next to the enemy, striking again with both hands.

"Soul Force!"

The shock wave was stronger this time, the small sonic boom echoing against the butte and through the air as the sand rippled out from beneath them. Another vomitous cough was Griffin's response, but then he cackled evilly as blood ran down his cheek. Stein watched one of the madman's arms transform back into the spiked bludgeon, ready to retaliate even as he spit blood into the sand.

The meister sat back on his heels with a heavy sigh.

"Sutures."

"Wha...what...? What did you do to me!?" Griffin snarled as he struggled, now immobilized.

Stein closed his eyes to aid his concentration. He blindly felt in his pocket for a cigarette, but gave up as the package slipped through his blood-covered fingers. He said nothing in reply, not caring to explain the special technique and needing to focus.

He opened his eyes and looked beyond his furious opponent to where Spirit still lie unmoving. The numbness was increasing. A familiar apathy was seeping into his soul, and he fought to stall it off until he could finish his task.

"I'm disappointed in you, Stein."

His eyes narrowed. With hardly a thought, he pulled a scalpel from his pocket.

"I think I'll cut you into pieces now."

He meant the words, but found his hand didn't move on his brain's command. He would find no pleasure here.

If the mission had in fact been a test from Lord Death, he had failed. Even if the battle was won...the loss of a weapon was unforgiveable for a meister. Especially like this.

He felt his control slipping, and he grit his teeth and bowed his head as he watched Griffin yank his transformed arm free, the soul thread sutures that had held it snapping and vanishing into the sand. He reached up to turn the screw in his head.

"Stein."

His head snapped up at the sound of the weak voice. Somehow, Spirit was conscious. He watched as his injured partner blinked once, twice, and then weakly slid his arm across the sand toward him.

"How..." Stein breathed even as he rose to his feet in understanding.

"You can't win!" Griffin said desperately, swiping uselessly at Stein's legs as he stepped over him. But as the captive continued struggling, the soul thread sutures at his knees began to snap.

Spirit's arm rose up barely a few inches from the ground, shaking, and Stein's bloodied hand gripped his. A brief moment and a flash of magical light, and Stein once again held the death scythe.

His grip was sure, and this time he didn't hesitate for an instant. Without ceremony he spun back around and fiercely brought the blade down into the chest of their enemy with a horrible, wet crunching sound, feeling it pierce all the way through the man's back and sink deeply into the sand.

He held tightly to the staff, his breaths heavy as the red eyes of the man he once might have called friend stared up at him in shock.

"A godless world is doomed to madness," Stein said, as the life began slipping from the man's eyes. With this attack the Soul Protect was finally broken, and Stein saw with despair that a shriveled, evil soul was all that was left of Griffin.

The look of shock remained on their old classmate's face as the enemy breathed his last, and once the slain body had expired the soul separated and hovered above it, ready to be consumed.

Stein let go. It was with an involuntary cry of pain that Spirit transformed again, not even attempting to gain his feet and falling instantly. But Stein was already on his knees.

He caught him again and stared grimly at the wounds and then at Spirit's pained expression. But when the scythe opened his eyes his gaze went beyond Stein, to the floating, corrupted soul.

"You want that?" Stein asked flatly.

"Not really," Spirit said with a slight shake of his head, and then he passed out.

This time Stein held on tighter.

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illubean · 2 months

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👉👈 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

#soul eater fanfic #soul eater #soul eater x reader #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater headcanons #death the kid x reader #death the kid soul eater #death the kid #dtk x reader #dtk soul eater #soul eater dtk #dtk

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mytheoristavenue · 5 months

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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

#soul eater #professor stein #professor stein x reader #dr stein soul eater #dr stein #dr stein x reader #soul eater x reader #franken stien #franken stein x reader #lemon's 25 days of christmas #christmas event #soul eater fanfic

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takeyourcyanide · 11 days

Text

Prey

Possible TWs: Unreality, brief mention of suicide

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn, Marie Mjolnir, mentions of Azusa Yumi, Mira Naigus, and Sid Barrett

Word count: 3 315

Tags: hurt/no comfort, delirium, unreality, delusions, psychosis, confusion, dreams and nightmares, dreams vs reality, schizophrenia, madness, men crying

Summary: Stein struggles to tell dreams from reality, he struggles with the likes of paranoia and confusion, etc.

Note(s): Pushing through the static to write is like pushing through an avalanche sometimes, but it’s one of the few things I enjoy, so I do so anyway. I wanted to depict the confusion (among other things) that comes along with the static (at least for me), so I hope this comes across properly.

Anguished is he, of whom is reduced to limp and helpless prey for not only the world to seemingly feast upon, but for himself to feast fervently and rabidly upon.

<…….>

Stein had always been viewed as some sort of malevolent force; a predator.

Whether there’s any genuine truth to that statement or not, such a viewpoint spread, be it due to stigma and misconceptions, or a partial truth. Perhaps both.

Unbeknownst to the apparent entirety of everyone else was that his motives were only partially sadistic. He has ripped everything imaginable limb from limb, for the sake of ultimately satiating his scientific curiosity, as well as satiating his sadistic urges.

That same sadism extended towards himself, so it seemed, which left him to often question whether or not he was, too, a bit of a masochist.

<…….>

Stein’s computer screen blared before his eyes as though he were knocking upon the gates of heaven, though it felt much more like he had been dragged down into the deepest pit of hell; an abyss designed specifically for him.

He gazed into the array of pixels, a debilitating and delirium-inducing fog conquering him, as he felt whatever cognition had remained slipping through his lithe, pale, and trembling fingers.

It was one of the few thoughts that had ever managed to bring tears to his hollow eyes. His intellect was a treasured, a prized aspect of him; it was almost all he ever had - at least that’s what it seemed like in retrospect, as his previously excellent memory blurred and gasped for air like the ground from underneath the rubble of a massive and fallen building.

It was as though he had been a simultaneously third and first-party observing as his brain deteriorated, decomposing before his very eyes. He had been watching and psychoanalyzing as it all crashed down since utero. And from the moment he could conceptualize the neurobiological differences he was born with, he knew that, though he had refused to accept it, he had no chance at ever living.

When you begin early, you finish early.

The text of the paper on the screen appeared to morph, shifting and becoming completely different words after Stein was repeatedly forced to do multiple double-takes.

Franken sighed in mild frustration, deep and troubled as the biology normally so easy for him to comprehend became utterly indiscernible, incomprehensible, and a messy jumble of word salad. He massaged the bridge of his nose, as well as the skin in between his eyebrows in a circular motion, trying his best to remember how to breathe.

He moved his eyes to the lower right of the monitor, the clock in the corner reading ‘07:38.’

Stein’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, as he stood abruptly from his chair, shoving it away. He was almost forty minutes late to work.

He knew his ability to perceive time had been absolutely annihilated, but it never became any easier, nor did it become any less disorienting, ultimately leaving him to rub at his temples, shaking his head with a confused and feverish grimace.

He audibly groaned, lost within the hazy and murky forest with no way out.

At least he was already dressed.

<…….>

Stein trudged through the DWMA’s doors, hair unkempt and under-eyes appearing as though charcoal had been smeared upon them.

“Stein?” Spirit sounded rather confused as Stein marched into the Death Room expectantly and barely prepared to work. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I work here,” the meister’s eyebrows were furrowed, as he was stuck within a continuous and hellish state of befuddlement.

He snuck glances around the room, Lord Death and Marie staring at him with an expression of pity and concern, causing Stein to sneer.

“Don’t you remember? We’re letting you off for a little while. You should be at your lab right now,” the weapon stated, too, sounding terribly worried. Franken wished they’d simply stop pretending. It was clear they were only judging him, whispering vile things about him, mocking him when he wasn’t there to witness it.

“Oh… That wasn’t a dream?” Stein huffed, flabbergasted and unwillingly under the microscopic lenses that were their telling, needy, and greedy eyes, as even the overly bossy and critical Azusa was present in the room, along with the likes of Sid and Naigus.

Not only had it all seemed like one big dream, including the present, but it felt as though it had happened years ago - as though it were distant.

“No, Stein…. It was yesterday.”

Yesterday? What even happened yesterday?

He once again turned his head from side to side, a slow and searching motion.

He covered his face with his freezing hands, fingers spread just enough that he could see their distorting and foreign faces from in between each of them.

“Why don’t we get you home?” Spirit offered, a kind and caring gesture that was rendered nothing but conspicuous and threatening in the forest, amongst the thick and strident static.

“No.. No…. I can make it by myself,” he shakily mumbled, hands still gripping the flesh of what is supposedly his face.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well,” Death Scythe raised an eyebrow in suspicion, eyeing his former partner up and down.

And the truth was, he really didn’t. He no longer simply appeared as though he were a moving corpse anymore, he genuinely looked as though he had been mangled by some creature only days prior; his insomnia was more obvious than it had ever been, not to mention how slouched he was and how stiff his every movement was. It was as if Stein was relearning how to properly walk.

“Have I not managed to every other time?”

‘But you look like the thin, frail, and worn out thread you’ve been hardly hanging onto all your life has finally torn,’ Spirit thought to himself, exhibiting every last bit of self-control not to voice his opinion aloud.

“It’s okay to rely on people sometimes. We’re here for you. Let me take you home,” he said instead.

Stein fervently demurred against his suggestion, the very prospect of being lead back to his laboratory seemed to raise the volume of the radio.

“No. Let me go alone,” he almost pouted, his face twitching all over, as he was genuinely unsure what facial expression he should be making, and how he could even facially express what he was experiencing at all; flickering back and forth between every face, none suiting what he wanted to convey, or really, wasn’t certain he wanted to convey.

“I’m not going to let you just go alone in the state you’re in,” Stein clenched his atypically tight chest, sharp aches echoing throughout his sternum.

Spirit moved closer to the twitchy meister, not missing how Stein seemed to flinch farther away.

“Come on, Franken. Just let me walk you home, at the very least,” as the scythe peered downwards at the hand soothing over his chest, an almost sorrowful and tender glint appeared in his eyes, the volume further rising, the scientist’s ears surely leaking blood by now.

“Fine,” there was no point in continuing to stubbornly refuse the weapon’s proposal. Even if he left by his lonesome, the weapon would surely be knocking on his steel doors come nightfall.

A small smile made its way on Spirit’s face, as he replied gently with, “Well, all right, then.”

<…….>

The incessant, persistent, all-encompassing noise rose to unprecedented levels as he walked side by side with Mr. Suit and Tie, refusing to even so much as peek at his skinsuit.

Agitation spread throughout his body like cancer, overtaking his motor skills, leaving him squirmy, irritable, impatient, and robotic; only further exacerbated by the snickering and obnoxiously refulgent sun.

It left him childishly desiring to fall to the ground and throw a tantrum, to kick and to scream cacophonously, to sob and hiccup, and cross his arms over his ever-tightening chest, as he bit into the plush skin of his bottom lip as a distraction.

The static combined with the luminous summer day, combined with not being in control of his own decisions due to certain people believing him to be “unstable” was simply all too much; overstimulating.

Everything was too furiously hot and yet too frigid simultaneously; too loud and too quiet. All of that, not even including how his day clothes were brushing against his skin, feeling too small and too big, itchy and too smooth at the same time. It was as though the turtleneck, one of the few articles of clothing he didn’t refuse to wear, was suddenly strangling him; even his coat was now too heavy upon his shoulders, too clunky. It was all much too clunky.

And then Spirit pushed the creaky doors open.

Stein’s hands immediately flew up to cover his ears for the brief moment the sound reverberated, pathetic tears welling up in his eyes as he burned holes in his shoes.

He dug his teeth even further into his lip, wincing at the shooting pain that action garnered.

“Stein? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming inside?” Albarn softly and confusedly questioned, standing halfway inside of the laboratory. “Why are you staring at the floor?”

Stein’s hands were still cupped over his ears, moving upwards and yanking on his hair, his expression petulant as Spirit was finally able to get a semi-decent look at him.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that, why are you crying?” A tiny sob fell out from the normally resilient and unnervingly apathetic meister’s mouth, Spirit’s eyes widening, his arms rising aimlessly as he scrambled for anyway to comfort the male.

Stein rolled his inner cheek between his teeth, eagerly hoping to muffle his blubbering as he knew Spirit and everyone else who happened to hear about his little moment of weakness would take advantage of him in some way.

But that particular train of though only seemed to make him cry harder, the ball swirling in his chest tightening to the point of explosion; similarly to a taut rubber band tying around his heart, compressing and compressing until the organ itself exploded into an internally bloody mess.

The hands previously pulling at his hair once again fell to his chest, gripping and grappling, as Stein forgot how to properly inhale and exhale, his breaths unsteady, but not to the point of hyperventilation.

A certain fear he wasn’t sure he had ever felt rose within him, beating against the confines of his muscles, skeleton, his flesh to escape.

“Come on, why don’t we get inside? Wouldn’t that make you feel better?” Spirit placed a perturbed hand on Stein’s shuddering shoulder, of whom leaped backwards. “I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again.”

The corners of the scientist’s mouth twitched wildly, almost as though it were attempting a smile, tears still freely running down his rosy cheeks.

He smacked a hand over his mouth, folding in on himself, practically convulsing as uncontrollable and unfitting giggles escaped his mouth vigorously, nearly choking attempting to cease his own unwanted laughter.

The foreboding expression mixed with, danced with the cracking grin, as he glanced over at Spirit, a horrified and vulnerable look in his eyes.

The disquietude contorting Spirit’s countenance had seemingly been, though certainly not entirely, assuaged by something, as he returned to his former position partially inside of the lab.

“Can you make it in here on your own, or do you need help?” His voice was hushed, but rather sweet in a way Franken had never heard from the man before.

He put one foot in front of the other whilst laughing uproariously, Albarn pursing his lips as the manic giggles filled his ears like a disconcerting and scratched record.

The record shrieking, bellowing from the speakers of the old radio had risen in volume to the point of no return. And all Stein could do in the face of the growing and clamoring shadows was weep and cackle. He was now to be laid out for the entirety of the desert to know and scrutinize.

And though he never once cared about a singular person’s opinion of him, the viewpoints of the flowing river rushing with what may as well be a liquidized form of the status quo would always sway the viewpoint’s of others, effectively sweeping the already swept rug right out from underneath him.

“Do you wanna sit on the couch? Or.. I think it would be a good idea if you tried to get a nap,” Stein’s visage was blank in emotion, only a few tears left to roll, his mouth closed shut despite the tittering attempting to flow out like a stream of water. It admittedly appeared rather… interesting to anyone who wasn’t the meister, as his figure shook with what could be mistaken as mirth, while no other aspect of him followed suit.

Stein shrugged his shoulders in response, standing awkwardly as though he was a guest in his own house.

“Come on,” he waved the meister over. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

He apprehensively objected the notion, standing still, the laughter slowly but surely dying down.

“Why not?” The ginger prodded as if he truly believed he would be given a verbal elucidation. “…… Okay, why don’t we just sit down, then?”

Stein obeyed, moving to plop down onto the sofa, a falling sensation holding his body hostage. He felt himself being pulled down as if he had dived off of a building; a random suicidal whim, an impulse. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to those.

<…….>

Stein’s eyes shot open as he caught his breath, his face oddly moist and his body drenched with sweat.

He was breathing fast and hard, his heart pumping, banging against his sore chest; something of which seldom happened.

He lifted his quivering fingers, dabbing them onto his cheeks, as if to take a sample.

Upon observation, upon even licking the salty liquid from off of his fingers for the sole sake of clarity, it was safe to determine that he was crying.

Stein squinted his eyes, scanning the room, his vision blurred undoubtedly from the tears, though it was possible he also needed the aid his glasses offered him.

He patted around his bed and his nightstand in search of the aforementioned glasses, only to find that he had fallen asleep with his frames on his face, lenses covered in the same wetness covering his fingers.

He cleaned the lenses with his shirt, jittery and with an aching stomach and head.

‘Was that a dream? No… That just happened yesterday, didn’t it? Or was it a week ago? How much of that did and did not happen? When…? No,’ the endless misty haze of confusion seemed to torture him endlessly as he placed his glasses beside him.

He needed a shower. And the very thought of standing in the mirrored room paralyzed him; the same room with the camera-filled vents. Though all of his rooms had that… They were most likely selling the videos they’d take of his most vulnerable and private moments to strangers… His body was to be passed around and enjoyed, wasn’t it?

He bit at his fingers, even unconsciously suckling on them at the volume rose impossibly and impressively more so.

But he had work to accomplish, not even just at the academy - or did they actually temporarily suspend him from his duties? Was that just the dream?

Stein threw the covers from off of his body. Evidently he’d need to wash the sheets as well, given how soaked they were.

Exhausting nightmares were all he had anymore.

<…….>

The warm water trickled down Stein’s neck, falling smoothly from his collarbone, and down to his thoracic and abdominal cavities, making rounds around his thighs, and pooling under his feet.

He stood there, immobilized by nothing at all for a moment. It was almost as if, though not quite, he was not allowed to move, to control his own extremities.

He pondered for a moment those ghastly and ghostly beings which followed him into the bathroom, never allowing him even a fraction of time to himself, and how, while he often wished for them to disappear, he hadn’t a single clue as to what he’d do without them.

The static sung hell-born lullabies to him, words of the shadows culminating inside of his skull like echoes of the distant past, or of an imminent and inevitable future; a reminder that the present would never be his to own. Even his own thoughts were not to ever belong to him.

He was within its domain, born seated upon its throne, for it was, too, his, as he was ‘it’ and ‘it’ was him - simultaneously, still, existing as almost separate entities; the predator and the prey, except in this particular falsified, quasi-play, the predator’s prey just so happened to be the predator itself.

Stein managed to twitch his middle finger.. Then his ring, then his pointer, his pinky, and his thumb.

He relearned how to contract his muscles, how to outstretch his arms, as he began to move.

He’d rub shampoo and conditioner in his hair, scratching the shampoo into his scalp, and observing as it seeped through his follicles and into his body just as the noise had.

His heart did not pump the same blood as everyone else’s. That much was apparent. And he could not force it to. Was he to give in to the forest? Did he have a choice in the matter?

<…….>

Stein trudged once more throughout the cobblestone streets, seeking answers.

He pushed the academy doors open, a few curious glances coming his way as students and staff alike whispered amongst one another. He didn’t always mind such attention, as a matter of fact, he often found it rather amusing. At times, he could even find himself being partial to it. But in times such as this, times when it fed the avalanche raining down in his mind, he wished everyone would simply forget he ever existed. He wished passionately that he were the invisible observer he often forgot that he wasn’t.

“Spirit,” Stein called out into the Death Room, even more bewildered glances given to him.

“Stein?” The scythe sounded so surprised to see the man, he had to wonder why.

“Have I been suspended already?” He asked the question as though it were the most urgent and important of questions.

“Stein… You were let off over a week ago. Don’t you remember?”

Those words resounded within Stein, echoing and bouncing off the walls as the world around him spun, crumbling down as the very fabric of reality tore apart.

“It was a week?” Stein choked out, his eyes bulging out from their sockets, his ears ringing inharmoniously.

He whipped his head around the whole room, covering his face just as he had in the dream, moving his hands to the sides of his head, as he stood with both of his legs in his reality and a mere fingertip in their reality.

What?

“What day is it again?”

“It’s the twenty-sixth of July,” Marie helpfully answered, sounding awfully concerned. “It’s a Thursday.”

Stein ripped his hands away from his head, pulling them back down and peering at them. Was he even real? Were they real? Were they demons wearing the skin of his friends? What was going on? Where was he, truly? Who was he?

And most importantly,

how did he last this long in the first place?

It had become overwhelmingly apparent over the years that he was the strongest person he knew.

But being the strongest never guarantees you’ll survive on the battlefield. No matter who you are, you’re more likely to die a gruesome and empty death than not. A death in which you are left to rot. And that had also become abundantly clear to Stein.

He knew it. He had always known it.

He wasn’t going to make it to thirty.

<——————>

An incredibly fitting song:

#soul eater #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #takeyourcyanide #hurt/no comfort #Spotify #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fanfiction #schizospec #schizophrenia #psychosis #possible psychosis

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cannibal-nightmares · 21 days

Text

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.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fanfic #my fanfic #soul eater stein #stein #spirit albarn #soul eater spirit #franken stein #actually schizophrenic author #spiritstein #steinspirit #spirit x stein #stein x spirit

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memethebum · 4 months

Text

Got my @sesecretsanta fic out for @moriohpissky :D

Hope you like ittt 😭🙏🏽

————————————————————————

“Hey, how much longer till’ those cookies are ready Eater?” Spirit shouted from his seat on the living room couch, causing Soul to bristle at the question.

“40 fuckin’ minutes. Now ask me that question one more time and I’ll shove these cookie cutters down your-“

“Ugh, can you two get along for ONCE,” Maka grumbled over Soul before he set the whisk he was holding down and turned his head to see the young woman pouting on the couch next to a suddenly intimidated Spirit.

“I’m sorry Angel, it’s just that-“

“No, I’m through with your excuses. You promised me you’d stop being so crabby with Soul the day he proposed, and it’s been what a year and a half and I still don’t see any improvement!” Maka continued while dropping the photo album she was working on upon the table in front of her with an elongated huff.

A terse silence then began to make it’s way across the apartment, forcing Soul to realize that it was his turn to comfort Maka about the situation.

“Your old man….isn’t all that bad anymore though. I mean, he gave us his blessin’ for marriage so I guess….” Soul started, only to become lost within his erratic thoughts about his father-in-law’s odd behavior on the night he asked him to green-lit the imminent proposal.

“I know the kind of man you are Eater, so let’s see how much marriage changes that. Especially with-“

“Hi Mama!” Maka tittered over Soul’s train of thought as he picked up the whisk again and slowly started to toss the dry ingredients together, all while keeping his ears perked on the conversation behind him.

“Yea, I already set up the guest room for you and…is that this week?” his wife then mumbled, causing the younger Deathscythe to come towards a standstill once again.

“But I don’t understand…you-you couldn’t even come for the wedding and it’s about to be Christmas so I thought…no-no I don’t want to hold you up…no it’s-ok bye Mama,” Maka whispered before tapping a finger onto her phone screen, chucking her phone upon the sofa, and making a sprint towards the bathroom.

Soul immediately set the bowl he was holding down onto the counter and scurried in the direction Maka ran towards. He was able to reach the narrow hallway just as a few muffled sobs began to leak from behind the bathroom door.

The Deathscythe could feel Spirit standing a few feet behind him before he slowly rapped his knuckles against the door and then heard his wife let out a low cough in between her sobbing, which served as all the feedback he needed to silently turn the doorknob and enter the bathroom with a solemn expression.

Soul then watched while Maka looked up at him from the corner she’d wedged herself into within their small bathtub, only to shake her head a moment afterwards and haphazardly kick at a bottle of conditioner laying beside her.

“Hey…,” Soul mumbled before flopping into the bathtub as well and gently circling an arm around his wife’s back.

“I just-just don’t get why she has to raise my hopes just to do this,” Maka lamented while resting her nose onto the crux of Soul’s neck, probing him to nod through the pinpricks forming on his shoulder.

“It’s really fucked up,” Soul commented before pushing back a few strands of Maka’s hair and noticing the way her usual valiant demeanor seemed to be sapped away from her each time she failed to muffle her crying.

Fucked up enough for me to get to the bottom of all this crap myself Soul thought, hoping that his embrace would be enough to let his wife know that her unrestrained crying was the bravest thing she could do in such a shitty situation.

———————————————————————

I can’t believe it’s worked so far the Deathscythe noted while skirting past the babble of families occupying the halls of Death City Airport.

He could feel a few watchful eyes on him, although he was completely certain it was because of his title as the “last Deathscythe” after customs had let him into the terminal once he’d agreed to take a few pictures and scribble out some autographs.

“34 D will be boarding soon,” a voice announced through the airport intercom, causing Soul to push through the crowd before him at an erratic pace.

“Watch where you’re-Eater?” a man then barked at him after being flitted to the side.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here???” the Deathscythe hissed as Spirit turned to face him with a scowl.

“I could ask you the same thing,” his father-in-law grumbled, eliciting Soul to let out a groan in agitation.

“Never mind, I don’t have time for this shit. The receptionist said the next flight for Paris-“

“It’s 34 D? Yea, that’s why I’m here too kid,” Spirit spoke over Soul, probing both men to glance at each other for a split second before they began to push through the crowd once more.

“Guess I can’t complain about ya’ being here all that much, since I hardly know what the lady looks like,” Soul commented, probing a scoff out of the older Deathscythe.

“You’ll be able to tell. She’s got a pretty scary aura…which is probably where Maka gets it from too,” Spirit replied, only to be pulled to the side by Soul a moment afterwards.

“Is that her??” the younger Deathscythe whispered while pointing to a woman situated in one of the airport seating areas.

“Yup, that’s her all right,” Spirit sighed, allowing Soul a quick moment to silently judge his mother-in-law.

She does have a scary energy going on about her Soul noted as he watched the way Kamiko Bushida smoothed through her raven locks of hair with one hand while deftly holding an open magazine ontop her crossed legs with her other hand.

“Lady looks way too fuckin’ cozy to be-“ Soul started, only for his scowl to turn into a look of confusion once Spirit began to march forward.

The younger Deathscythe skidded after him just as Kami looked up with a bewildered expression and loudly slapped her magazine shut.

“Kami.” Spirit enunciated while the woman began to narrow her eyes at Soul once he meekly stood next to his father-in-law.

“Spirit. Can I…help you?” she hissed, forcing Soul to subdue his growing urge to step a few feet back.

Alright, alright remember why you’re here Evans. Someone has gotta get this lady off her high fuckin’ horse…for Maka’s sake he noted before watching Spirit take a step forward with a leveled expression.

“I know I have no right to come here after you, but fuck Kami this isn’t about me. This is about Maka and how much she was looking forward-“

“It’s a shame her feelings had to be crushed like that because of someone else’s actions,” Kami cut over Spirit, causing the older Deathscythe to silently gape at her while Soul began to take a few tentative steps forward.

“Oh so you wanna punish your own daughter for something she couldn’t even control? Is that why you just treat her like a toy you can get bored of after a monthly phone call?” Soul seethed out before watching the woman turn her head in his direction as the flight attendant behind them began to unlock the plane entrance.

“First off young man, you have no right to assume the kind of relationship I have with my daughter. And secondly, Maka understands that my line of work keeps me busy. It’s a shame to see how she has a sensible mind on her but ended up marrying such a-“

“Oh no, don’t you start projecting me onto him Kami. You’re pulling a lot of lows here but that-“

“OH, I’M PULLING LOWS NOW?! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CAME HERE WITH YOUR HOOLIGAN SON-IN-LAW TO CORNER ME INTO A TOWN I NEVER WANT TO STEP FOOT IN AGAIN!” Kami then screeched, causing a few people around them to flinch at the sudden rise of her tone.

“No one is trying to bring you back there, I swear! We just want you to meet Maka at least once, maybe grab some donuts from the airport Death N’ Donuts or even-“

“What the hell did we say to make ya’ jump to that conclusion?” Soul cut over Spirit’s pleas, probing Kami’s eyes to widen at the question.

“It’s not about what you said, it’s about you two even being here,” the woman elaborated before the younger Deathscythe let out a low whistle.

“So what you’re sayin’ is that you can’t even find a reason to start jumping to conclusions-“

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I-“

“No, no lemme explain it for ya’. See, I got a lot of experience with a shitty parent myself, so I can kinda call it when I see it. Now the old man here-,” Soul elaborated before sticking his thumb out at Spirit.

“He was a shitty husband and kinda a shitty dad when me and Maka first partnered. But, I never saw the old man stop tryin’ to push past all that. Sure he’d bitch and whine when Maka would bring it up, but that didn’t really stop him. You see what I’m gettin’ at here? You can stay away from your past, but you gotta acknowledge the way you’re screwin’ up in the present. Maybe then you’d see why we’re the ones here and not my wife,” Soul monologued, only to feel something warm come splashing against his arm while he slowly became aware of how he’d essentially released all the internal anguish he had for a woman he’d only ever previously met once in his life.

“I-I’ve had enough. I don’t need to hear any of this,” Kami gasped as she stared between the cup of coffee she’d spilled onto the tiled airport floor and the security guards marching in their direction.

“Oh and one more thing…” Soul coughed out before the woman turned her back towards him and Spirit.

The younger Deathscythe then unzipped the duffle bag he’d been lugging around the entire airport and carefully picked up the item he’d stowed within it.

“Merry Christmas,” Soul finished while placing the picture album Maka had designed onto the seat closest to Kami, which allowed him a brief moment to watch as his mother-in-law stared at the item with tear-stained eyes before the security guards began to lead him and Spirit away from her.

———————————————————————

“You’ve got some guts saying all that to her kid,” Spirit sighed while slumping further into his seat.

“Yea, well I was hardly thinkin’ shit through when I did that,” Soul replied as he glanced at the wall clock that’d been fixed near the entrance to the airport security office.

Let’s just hope they let us outta here before Maka starts to worry the younger Deathscythe then thought while watching Spirit give him a sideways glance before facing forward and proceeding to clear his throat.

“Ma’am, I know we both broke a few airport security laws and all, but could you let my son go this one time please. Would it be so hard to let him spend his first Christmas as a married man with his wife-,”

“Sorry sir, but you’re gonna have to wait for my boss to get back here and decide if we can let you two go,” the security guard murmured over Spirit before shifting in her seat and going back to scrolling through her phone.

His what??? Soul thought to himself while watching Spirit’s face mold into a grimace.

“Honestly, you’d think people would have a heart around this time of-“

“Your…son huh?” Soul then questioned over Spirit’s misgivings, causing the older Deathscythe to give him a bewildered look before his expression mellowed into a slight scowl.

“I know you’re not that dumb, Eater. Probably in denial but definitely not an airhead when it comes to things like this,” Spirit whispered while tipping his head backwards against the cream colored office wall.

“Then…”

I know the kind of man you are Eater the younger Deathscythe abruptly recalled before watching his father-in-law furrow his eyebrows at his sudden pause.

“Ya’…really don’t hate my guts?” Soul eventually questioned.

“I did. Still kinda do sometimes, but I can’t deny the good you’ve done for my daughter. When I found out that frog witch and her wolf boyfriend advised you to talk to Stein and Marie about proposal advice, I was pissed. You know why?” Spirit responded, eliciting Soul to gape at the man before he answered his silence with a low scoff.

“It’s because I knew Maka would say yes. She loves you and Death, no matter how much I wanna deny it, I can see why. You’re a pretty good kid at heart Soul, and y’know what? I’m glad I got a son-in-law that’d be insane enough to get locked up in a airport security office with me on Christmas Eve just for Maka,” his father-in-law then elaborated, probing Soul’s eyes to go wide at the sudden confession.

“D-don’t tell anyone I said any of that crap, ALRIGHT! How about we just…uh call this a truce,” Spirit finished before stretching a hand out to Soul, who met his eyes for a split second and then let out a sneer at how his father-in-law began to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yea, guess a truce wouldn’t be all that bad dad,” Soul exclaimed while clasping his hand against Spirit’s, only to hear the office door violently slam against the wall a moment afterward.

“UGH FINALLY!” the two men heard a voice shriek out before watching the security guard drop her phone in shock and then being crushed against Maka’s quivering figure.

“I don’t know if I should hit you two upside the head with a hardcover or hug you to death!” Maka exclaimed as her grip against them became increasingly tighter.

“Think it’d be really nice if you chose neither of those two,” Soul choked out before his wife let out a small chuckle and pulled away her arms to directly face them.

“Maka angel, we-“

“It’s ok Papa. Stein and Marie already told me your plan while we were driving here. I came to get my family, nothing else. Can’t really celebrate Christmas without you guys, right?” Maka exclaimed over Spirit’s consoling while reaching down and planting a quick kiss onto the older Deathscythe’s forehead.

Soul then watched as Spirit’s eyes softened from the action, only to feel Maka’s lips press against his own soon after.

“Eugh, I’m gonna go look for Stein and Marie,” the older Deathscythe grumbled just as Soul deepened the kiss, only to let out a huff in protest once his wife separated their lips a second after.

“Oh, um about that. I may or may not have…punched a security guard to get here,” the young woman exclaimed, causing both men to level a startled gaze at her.

The reaction seemed to fit what Maka had been anticipating, as she gave Soul another chaste kiss before pulling him up from his seat.

“Guess we should head out, that way I can apologize to the security guard and let him meet the two men I’d kill for,” Maka finished before taking Spirit’s palm into her free hand and pulling both men out of the office. Soul couldn’t help but let out a sigh at his wife’s words, although it soon turned into a slight grin once he noticed his father-in-law attempting to stifle his tears of happiness.

#soul eater #spirit albarn #soul x maka #maka x soul #meme attempts to write #ao3 fic #soul eater fanfic

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