Clay/Akane @claykane - Tumblr Blog

Call It Magic (1): Illuminate

Akane’s been looking forward to his first day of classes for a year.

His family has talked about Hogwarts for most of his life, of course; he sees the seal every morning on the wall of the entryway, the shape of the school’s crest laid almost as an afterthought over the ornate detailing on the Slytherin banner set into the wall with silver and emeralds. Akane knows what house he’ll be Sorted into, has known since he was old enough to understand what Hogwarts meant that he was destined to attend as the latest representative for magical genius from his family’s bloodline. It wasn’t until he was ten and out with his mother while she perused the selection of the city bookstore and left him to polite small talk with the cashier that he realized there were other houses than Slytherin, that Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff even existed. The idea of there being other houses – other kinds of people than those he is around all day, than the kind of person he knows himself intuitively to be – was the most thrilling part of that entire trip, and he spent the remaining year before his admission letter arrived absorbing as much information as he could from the histories available in the estate’s library. By the time he took his seat below the wide brim of the Sorting Hat, he knew the framework for all four houses, and the kind of people that were sorted into them, and when the Hat called “Slytherin!” loud enough for the room to hear, Akane knew the assignment as a true reflection of himself rather than just of his last name.

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by 助手

translation by shiny-pichu

※ permission to repost to this blog was granted by the artist ※

#fanart

tastewithouttalent

Expectations (1): Tomorrow

It’s well past midnight when the bedroom door creaks open. Akane doesn’t look up from the book he’s been not-reading for the last two hours; he doesn’t need to see Clay’s face to know what expression the other boy is making.

“Glad you finally decided to emerge,” he says, making a show of setting an unneeded bookmark between the pages before he snaps the book shut. “I thought you’d never come out.”

“I was trying to sleep,” Clay says, his tone dropping into habitual defensiveness at Akane’s teasing. “We should get some rest before tomorrow.”

“But you weren’t,” Akane says, setting the book aside so he can look up instead. Clay is leaning against the wall of the hallway, slouched in sideways with his arms crossed over his chest like he’s cold in spite of the warmth in the air. There’s a crease in his forehead, unusual strain caught at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and if Akane hadn’t already known his weapon partner was tossing and turning in the other room rather than sleeping the stress across his features would tell the story itself.

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by 助手

※ permission to repost to this blog was granted by the artist ※

#fanart #akane hoshi #clay sizemore #soul eater not #claykane

tastewithouttalent

Distance

“Fuck, Akane,” Clay laughs against the meister’s neck. “Breathe, I swear you’re wound so tight one day you’re gonna shatter when I touch you.”

Akane tries. He really does. It’s hard to relax when his body is humming tight with desperation and want and sensation, when every time Clay’s fingers find bare skin at the meister’s elbow or neck or hip Akane startles like he’s been burnt, but he does try. He pulls his mouth away from Clay’s shoulder, stares unseeing out past the halo of blond hair in his periphery and tries to loosen the clutching fists his fingers are making in Clay’s shirt.

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mistawolfie

Commission for @shiny-pichu !

Clay and Akane (I think) from Soul Eater Not! Them cute boys doin the cute dance

Commission me! Still got slots open!

#fanart #art by op

tastewithouttalent

Shameless

Clay can’t keep his mind on class.

It’s not his fault. He’s trying to pay attention, trying to keep his eyes forward and his focus pinned to the murmur of the professor’s voice droning over the history of magic weapons and the ancestry that runs the edge of metal cool and steady through Clay’s veins with every beat of his heart. It’s the kind of thing he finds most interesting, those parts of class that are more like a story than anything else, and without any of the stress of live demonstrations that come with hands-on practice. Left to his own devices Clay would be more than happy to settle into his seat in the back of class, safe from the too-close attention of either the professor or the other students, and let the story of his own history sink into his memory with the slow attention that always works best, when he’s trying to remember things. But this is a joint class, weapons and meisters attending together, and that means Clay is far from his own devices.

“You haven’t answered me,” Akane murmurs at Clay’s shoulder without lifting his head from the apparent notes he’s taking. Clay is sure the facade would pass for anyone viewing said ‘notes’ from anything more than a few feet away; unfortunately for him, he’s within range to see what Akane is writing, which comes closer to ever-more-graphic suggestions the longer Clay goes without responding to him. “Are you really that interested in the subject?”

“I’m trying to pay attention,” Clay mumbles, dragging his eyes away from the flow of Akane’s elegant handwriting and down to pin his gaze unseeingly against Professor Stein now gesturing to a line of text across the blackboard. “Otherwise I’ll have to go back and study this later tonight.”

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Uniform

Clay thinks this might be the first time he’s regretting something before he’s even properly done it.

He’s used to making bad decisions. He’s good at strategy and rationality if he has enough time to think through his options; but there are all too many situations in his life when time is too much of the essence to allow him the necessary delay to really work through all the possible results of an action, and it seems he is forever doomed to choose the worst of those when he is under pressure. Usually he can rely on Akane to make the right call in those scenarios – there’s a reason Clay’s the weapon and not the meister, after all – but Akane isn’t always available, and not always a trustworthy source, especially when it comes to undertakings like the one Clay is currently involved in. Anything that involves the other’s favorite indulgences – candy, cake, sugar of any and all varieties – is immediately a source of irrationality, and years of partnership in both a technical and romantic sense have taught Clay that many of his own actions rate just as highly as things-Akane-is-unreasonable-about. It’s so pronounced that Clay finds his own logical process undermined just by the thought of Akane’s preferences, until he’ll step outside their grocery budget to buy a speciality cake for no reason at all or find himself considering the various merits of different types of desserts when he himself has almost no sweet tooth to speak of. It’s been mostly limited to minor inconveniences of budgeting so far; but Clay’s staring at himself in the mirror now, and everything about his reflection seems to indicate the symptoms to be spreading well beyond the realm of manageable.

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Supported

Akane likes the way Clay’s hands feel.

His weapon’s grip is stronger than his, his fingers wider, his palms softer, lacking the combat calluses Akane’s have borne for years. Akane remembers noticing his hands, first, drawn to the nervous flex in the other’s fingers as they stood in a room full of new Shibusen students and tried to find their way to a partner for the next several years; it had looked like an offer, the suggestion of panic Akane knew how to calm, and when he had stepped forward to offer his name, and a smile, and a handshake, the gratitude in Clay’s blue eyes was more than enough to fulfill his expectations. But Clay’s stronger than that first interaction led Akane to believe; he found that out during one of their first assignments, before he learned how to maneuver with the extra length Clay’s weapon form afforded him. Akane had come to after taking a blow to the head to find Clay’s arms around him, Clay’s grip clinging to his shoulder and supporting the unconscious weight of his head, and if the weapon’s voice had been shaking on Akane’s name his hands were steady, strong and comforting in a way Akane had long since stopped expecting to find in another. That, he thinks, was when he first started to fall in love, in the moments between unconsciousness and reviving, when he felt Clay’s hands supporting him.

And this is support too, if of a different kind.

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#nsfw #fanfics