#kidmaka-week2017

[purging-foxfire]

Some people are so deep

You fall into them

And you never stop falling

(In case it’s undreadable.)

I just like their soul forms, I’m sorry.

[l0chn3ss]

KiMa Week 2017: Day 1- Apocalypse

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 Masterpost | AO3 | FFNET

hohoho firstly, several thanks to rose and ash for their bountiful support in every direction imaginable, and here we are fam. flamakness back at it again with another giant au that we don’t know what to do with. kima week is going to have a strange influx of a kima witch au starting with these fics. just wait fam, more comes.

Binding; a KiMa AU

"Apocalypse" (ἀποκάλυψις) is a Greek word meaning "revelation", "an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling"

To those foolish mortals out there who believe there is no such thing as magic: think again.

It comes in the form of luck. Of the unknown. Accidental practices that result in something strangely good. Deliberate intent. A force that perhaps we all wish we had a little more of. The happenings we have no words for.

And perhaps most of all-- love.

I’ll prove it.

She was walking home from wherever she needed to be, bags trailing along after her and dancing with the flick of her finger tips. Heavy things simply weren’t good for her back, so what’s it to you if she casted a little enchantments here and there? There was no need to suffer that evening, or any other unnecessary evening at that. Her front door unlocked by itself at the sound of her foot steps. And she caught the glow of her bioluminescent plants for just split second before the lights flickered on when they sensed her arrival.

Guiding her new wares to their places, checking on the little bit of magic still activated from chores, changing the musty air with the fresh night sky’s, Maka’s list of things to do was just about complete. There was only just one thing that she’d been putting off. You see, she’d inherited the house from an aunt on her father’s side after her children had decided to move away. It wasn’t like they’d rejected magic-- no, wouldn’t that be tragic? But it was that they had new families to start, new lives to begin, new places to call their home.

Aunt Tisha was more than happy to pass down the house along to Maka, who she loved as much as her own. It may as well go to someone who could truly enjoy the beauty of what it had to offer, she said to her only niece. There was no reason that such a piece of their family’s legacy needed to die just because the main branch was married off into different circles. The Albarns were powerful witches, and Maka had always been in awe of the rich history behind her pedigree.

Of course, as magic began to thin out, the more people used other reliable means of technologies-- such as their own two hands-- Maka felt even more of a need to preserve it. She kept a copy of her grimoire both on her google docs and in her shelves, left a spell or two within her new neighbors’ flower beds to attract ladybugs, never drank water without a drop of lemon… the usual things a modern witch felt the need to do. The shapeshifters across the street looked at her funny whenever she was found digging in her yard on a blue moon, but Maka sweared they still wanted to join her more than anything.

Back to the house though. She’d moved in a little over a month ago and there was still so much to be done before she could truly call the place home. From dead plants that needed to be replaced in the backyard to sorting through old belongings to send to cousin Sylvia’s ranch-- Maka may as well start cleaning out the dusty attic. They told her that it hadn’t been opened since her grandma’s time, but if there were really birds roosting up there, then a cleaning was long overdue.

It was dangerous for wee creatures to play where there could be expired magic stored, after all.

With her home still getting used to being in tuned with her will, it took moment for it to lead her to the unmistakable entrance of the attic. Using a barrier to keep dust from falling through and onto her freshly mopped floor, Maka forced the handle to turn, and a rickety ladder fell from above. She supposed that she could check what she was dealing with now, and then actually deal with it in the morning. Putting one hand over the other, she climbed to the top, only to be met with the flutter of wings immediately.

The little finch was excited for reasons she couldn’t quite figure out. It tugged at her bangs and poked at her back until she was lead into her dark, crowded attic. There were boxes stacked as high as her cousin Trent. Dust clinging to every surface. Bits of cobwebs that swayed from the beams, which Maka almost ran into despite the bits of light coming in from a little porthole. But from that light, she saw another finch emerge, joining its little nest mate in their attempts to push Maka deeper in.

She didn’t think that they were malicious in any way, but you had to admit, it was strange to be lead on by a couple of birds; it made her cautious. There was something in the attic that they wanted her to see, and that something was something she could be potentially worried about. Still, she followed them all the way to where the light of the moon entered through, where it bounced off behind the little holes of a white sheet, and where the unmistakable frame of a mirror stood.

A small chirp triggered a little chorus of beeps, and with them came a voice unbelonging to Maka. It was surely male, surely soft and testing, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Confusion, not fear, was what she felt in that moment as she called back, answering his question with her name.

“My name is Death the Kid,” came his silvery words in response. “Free me, and I’ll reward you handsomely.”

“How does a disembodied voice have anything to give me?” Maka tried.

And she heard him groan under his breath. “Just-- whatever you want. I’ll give it to you. Get me out of here.”

There was a certain desperation in his voice as Maka saw a faint shadow of a hand pressed against the surface of the mirror behind the sheet. She steeled herself, deciding then that she wanted to see just who was negotiating his freedom. As if the house heard her, the fabric was blown away, stirring up the dust and causing Maka to shield her eyes momentarily. She really had to get this house under her control.

Lowering her hand away from her face, she saw the glow of a golden eyes more beautiful than the moon itself first. The man unveiled in the mirror was dressed formally in attire not from her era, with an older form of a suit and the shine of cufflinks on his wrists. He fit his clothes well, filling out the shoulders best and showing off his height with the illusion of a long torso and even longer legs. His black hair was styled carefully, or at least to the best of his efforts since he had no reflection to help him, she figured. But there were three incomplete bands of white that circled left around his bangs and to the back of his head.

He placed his hand back behind him, scrutinizing her image as much as she was to him.

“Well, don’t you look oddly like her.”

“Her?” Maka inquired, briefly registering the many finches that quickly perched on top of the mirror. “Who’s that?”

“Never mind that. Free me. I’ve been trapped in this hell for longer than you have a right to know.”

“And why should I?”

“There’s no reason to mistrust me. I was wrongfully imprisoned during the rebellion and I have done nothing to warrant this prison.”

“You must have gotten sealed for a reason,” she said cooly. “Souls don’t just casually end up mirror bound.”

“Trust me, Maka. There are a lot of reasons to keep me here, including just out of pettiness, but the very fact that you can hear and see me is enough reason for you to believe that I’m someone who has finally earned the right to leave. You’ve probably figured it out, but I have nothing to give you in return other than my gratitude. However, I’ll tell you everything you want to know once I’ve escaped and given a physical form. For now though, I know you know the curse binds my words too.”

“Then why haven’t you left before, if you’re so ready for it now?”

“Who’s been up here in this past century?” he said simply.

She mulled it over again in her head. If it were true, if what she’d learned about mirror bound souls were true, then his emergence really did mean that he was worthy to leave under the contract of a witch. And if he was, if the birds were truly comfortable perched on that mirror’s frame, going as far as to assist him… then perhaps she had to trust their calling.

With a bit of preparation and time, and even a hint of preservation, she reached into the mirror and grabbed his hand, pulling him out and letting him step into the world for the first time.

Maybe there is a little magic in the concept of fate, too, by the way.

You’ll have to just wait and see.

[beyondtheborderridiculous]

Kidmaka Week 2017 - Day 1: Apocalypse

[kidmaka-week]

[ai-araki]

KidMaka-Week2017

Day 1 : Apocalypse 

N/A : Rushed Writing ‘cause rushed (?) Guess you can call it a rambling, I tried to make it short as possible so It might get a bit confusing or meh.

I will make all the Days connect to each other again like the last year and please pray that I will able to complete the week this type xD

Also, please forgive my English. English is not my mother tongue. 

He is just standing there. 

The man before me is a man I never thought I would meet. At the center of it all - he remains motionless. Unsure if fear had taken over his body or that he doesn’t care of what is happening. “Someone, please help!” are the cries I kept hearing; doesn’t he hear this or is he pretending to be depth? I don’t know - But he is different.

The world is a disaster, even before this tragedy. We all know this is coming yet we never made a step to change it. “Everyone! Please stay calm!” How can they become calm at a moment like this? Buildings are collapsing, air is no longer air but gas and smoke. No hotlines, weapons and machinery can save them. Its a one on one battle for survival - We cannot save everyone in the end. Even if we wanted and hope too. 

“Anyone! Someone! Please help!” “Have you seen my child?!” “We are all going to die!” 

They are running around in panic now. Fear had taken over them but when I glance at him, he is still standing there - not moving at the center of it all. Is he... calm? I asked myself while looking at his physique. His hair was black as a raven’s hair, but something is different - there are three stripes around his hair. It doesn’t looked like it was dyed, but rather a reflection - a glow only appearing with the help of the sunlight. Crack. A part of a debris had fall, leaving a cloud of dust and a sound of coughing. The sky is painted with blood and dirt - shadowing the despair of the many and the lose hope of the lake. My is he tall! His pale complexion only appeared more beautiful when he wears Black, but then again maybe black is his only clothing. I chuckled silently to his or rather I imagined to chuckle. 

“Someone! Someone! Please help! There is a person over here!” 

Even with all the chaos, Humanity and selflessness of the people is still something to cherish. Even if they badly hurt and beaten they still help those in need. I wish we could save them. 

“Mommy! Mommy!” “Everyone please run to the shelter!” “Someone please!” “Why is this happening?!” “Lord, please have mercy.” 

Oh, he began to move, Is he going to escape now as well? Was it really fear and shock that had hinder him to move earlier? No, His path is different - it oppose to the path of the people who are trying to escape this nightmare. He might get drag with that sea of people! The people are in a panic now to care if they will bump to someone or not. “Everyone! Please this way!” Is he looking for someone? Is he trying to search for someone to whom he had postponed his escape? Crack. Another debris had fall that had cause another quake. This time the force was enough to stop my breathing momentarily and see red. 

I hope no one is hurt. 

“Ahhhh!!!” “Someone, please save us!” 

I looked up to him once more only to be greeted with gold. Ah, it is his eyes -  his eyes are like melted gold. I smiled to this - or I think I did, His eyes are so warm which is the contrast of his pale soft hand. A thumb had caressed my cheek.

I wish he would speak.

What happened to his calm physique earlier? Why do I feel sadness are now swimming in his warm eyes? Please, don’t look like that. I never met you but your sadness is reaching my heart. It was calming to see you so calm in the sea of chaos earlier. Pebbles are falling from the sky and I had only felt the liquid of my own when it had touch the skin of my body. I had lose touch of my lower half and I knew I would either die of Blood Lost or be crushed in these debris.

Oh sir, why is your soft touch losing resolved? You don’t know how comforting it was earlier. Don’t let this sadness consume the moment. I already knew what will happen. Oh no, please sir. My heart is aching with that look on your face. I was happy until this moment. So please smile. We will meet each other again right? If not, then this moment is more than enough...

.

.

.

“Yes, we will meet once again. Maka.”  Though it is too late for her to hear these words.

[purging-foxfire]

In which I obviously can’t draw, but the week was worth it, lol. Also, sorry if this is early, but time differences are sad sometimes (I’m so used to people responding at 3am, and at this point I just don’t have a normal sleep schedule anymore).

Hiya, I’m Ryo and Soul Eater was probably the first anime I ever watched. Which is why I didn’t have any ships at that time. Of course, I found Soma very cute (still is), but can you imagine how I felt after all the years seeing something from SE, and suddenly thinking, “Hey, Death the Kid and Maka make a damn adorable pair.”

And then there is this week focusing on that pair. I had to do something.

And I hope to do more, after all, I plan to stay in the fandom and post random drawings, and mostly writings.

---

This is an AU, where those two are normal kiddos, and Kid doesn’t have enough hair dye, and Maka knows how to fight with a shovel. Also, Kid hids a lot of knives, so be careful.

One day everything started to crash around the world, and chemicals are used in dangerous ways. People died, and it’s hard to find others, so those two refuse to part.

[purging-foxfire]

Sanity Check

Notes: Hi~ And here is a story!! I wasn’t sure what to write, but welp... I really love it though!!

Propmt: Gloves 

She swings a scythe around, as if it weighs nothing. Every move is fast and on spot. She's precise at best, and knows when to use her brain. Sometimes, she thinks things through, most time, she doesn't have to. He scythe is sharp and she can cut body parts apart with it. She is considered the elite in her work; doesn't mess up that much, does most of her jobs without complaints and wears a smile without uncertainty or hesitancy.

Rotten souls and dead bodies are her payment. She is thirteen, a child, and yet she knows how to kill men triple her age without fear.

-

Everyone has a different, yet sometimes similar, way of coping with things. It's not that hard to notice, when you know where too look, and considering they are children killing grown-ups, there is a need for a way, if you don't want to end up insane (not that it would make a difference, after all, they are all already screwed over in their head). Black Star uses training for coping; he just trains and trains endlessly, leaving his humanity behind with day after day. Maybe he does it, because he knows he won't think about all the bodies. And most times, Tsubaki and he don't bother with collecting souls. Tsubaki, in a way, was trained for this. Countless expectations piled on her shoulders. It's how she was brought up. She doesn't like it though, and she probably never will, when he thinks about all the times she cooks and cleans, cleans, cleans - until there is nothing to do anymore. Then there is Black Star, whose personality cheers her up a lot. Soul has music to deal with it, even if the piano stays untouched for awhile, the radio still works, is still switched on nowadays. And then he has the basketball games and fights with Black Star. It works for him, it has to. Liz has make-up, clothes and countless dates. Liz is used to that unfair kind of life. She knows how to survive in streets, but she doesn't want to know. To need to know. So, for her it works. She can take a bath afterwards, dress up nicely, and meet new, living people, so that she doesn't have to think about the dead ones. Sometimes, he sees himself in Patty, because she deals with it in a just as insane way as he does. Living on the streets, with a probably very stressed older sister, knowing your mother didn't want you, still doesn't, changed her morals drastically. She doesn't want her sister to suffer, and Liz doesn't suffer when she is able to live comfortably, so Patty makes sure it stays so. She doesn't know those people - they're not her sister or her friends - she doesn't need to make them happy, so she forgets about them. And if Patty snaps the neck of a paper giraffe later - well, that's her problem. He loves order, he loves symmetry - to a dangerous level. He knows that he should get help - but it helps him. Crying about a shelf that has more books on the left side than on the right, sounds better than crying because he shot someone directly into the heart. Symmetry breaks him, but not as much as the other option. Not even the name Death can change that. He used to think Maka's way were books and studying. She would sit and read them the whole time, she rather studied, whilst everyone played some games. Maybe that's a part of it. But recently he is considering something else: her white gloves. She wears them because she fights with a scythe, a weapon so goddamn heavy, normal people can't pick that up. And she swings and throws - and she doesn't drop the scythe. She fights, and cuts and ends - the gloves are the protection for her hands. That's what they always have been. Kid comes to the realization that they aren't. She doesn't wear them in class, just like her black long coat. But outside class? He sees the gloves on her hands, and he knows it's more. She always looks so reculant, when she has to take them off. He doesn't understand, so her asks her. "They keep my hands clean." It takes him a bit, but he understands. It hits him like a punch to the face, and for awhile he doesn't know how to react. She wears them because they keep her hands clean. Clean, like she didn't swing that scythe. Clean, like she didn't cut that body apart. Clean, like she didn't kill. As he grows closer to her, he starts to get it more and more. Suddenly, it's just so understandable and he doesn't really have to think about it anymore. She likes wearing those gloves, they are part of her sanity. So, imagine his utter shock, when she comes after a mission, and doesn't wear her gloves when they go on their date. They started going out more than a month, and so far she always wore them. And suddenly she doesn't. She holds his hand, and he actually can feel her smooth hand and the warmth radiating from them, and it's just new and usual. She still does were them around people though, with the exception of Soul maybe (they partners, siblings in some way, and they know each others fears and habits in and out). One day both meet up in the library, and the first thing she does is to take them off and lay them on the table. She goes to pick up some books, but Kid stays just staring at them. They look worn, but clean otherwise, and he wonders how many times she must have stood there washing those gloves, and trying not to think about anything. Because he just knows, that she wouldn't wash them with the rest of her laundry. "Kid?" And then he looks up into her eyes, and he smiles. He doesn't have to ask why she doesn't wear them around him, he knows. "Found any interesting books?" He is what holds her sanity together, and he knows this, because she is what holds his together. "Oh! Yeah, there is this one..." The white gloves lay forgotten on the table.

[kidmaka-week]