#sad eater

[azroazizah]

my hand slipped

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Tether

A/N: Well crap. Smokey’s post ruined me, so here I am with this nonsense coming out of me. I haven’t started a Soul Eater fanfic in a while (the one I posted recently was started like a year ago, but also this is so short it’s like a drabble I guess), so bear with me, friends. 

Summary: Soul’s feeling a little more than lonely, and he (kind of) goes to his meister for support.

Word Count: 783

Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, kinda angsty

Characters/Pairings: Soul Evans & Maka Albarn (really platonic, but can easily be read as SoulxMaka)

Warnings: lots of angst and like...talk about being alone and hopeless and stuff. 

Maka had been trying with all her strength not to say anything, but, whether it was curiosity or annoyance that was getting to her, something had to give. Soul had been pacing around the kitchen, and now he’d come to a halt right inside her doorway, just standing there and fiddling with the string of his sweatpants. 

“Soul?”

The youth whipped his head to face his meister, suddenly blushing when he realized he’d been spotted. 

“Yeah?”

“What....are you doing?” Maka asked, quirking a brow.  He hung around by her door, looking at the wall, then at her, then at the bed, then in to the kitchen, then at her, then at the wall, then at her-

“Soul.” 

He physically jerked at her tone, and she instantly regretted it. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, her voice softened.

“I dunno, I just....I dunno.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Something’s obviously bothering you.”

“I just...um...can I....hang out in here?”

“In my room?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not out there, in the living room, with the TV or something?”

He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and she kicked herself. Soul was never like this, so obviously something was wrong. He was always reclusive, drawing back into his room, so obviously being here meant something-

“I wanna be with you. Around you.”

“Okay....that’s fine.” She felt a slight blush rise in her cheeks. He’d never been this needy before...

The white-blond youth scurried across the room and set himself on Maka’s bed, looking no less uncomfortable than he had in the doorway. Sighing internally, Maka rose and approached him.

“So what’s up? What’s really going on?” She asked, sitting beside him on the bed. He refused to look at her, and Maka felt a slight anger well up in her. What was he refusing to trust her with? “Soul, as your meister, as your roommate, as your friend, please, tell me.”

“I...” Soul suddenly grabbed her comforter and threw it over his head, sitting in silence as the blanket fell back down around him. 

“Soul, what the hell-”

“I’m lonely.”

“What?”

“I feel.....alone. Isolated.” He let out a trembling sigh. “When I’m in there by myself sometimes....with the door shut....the walls....it all just feels so claustrophobic. I feel so alone and isolated and....It’s stupid.” The blanket shifts, and Maka can just make out Soul’s knees moving upward toward his chest.

“It’s not stupid.” Maka coaxed quietly, slowly lifting the covering to join him in the blanketed darkness. “If you’re feeling that way, it’s not stupid. You’re not stupid.” 

“You know me too well sometimes.” He chuckled bitterly. “I just....I feel....detached? I think that’s the word. I feel like I don’t have a connection, a tether to earth sometimes. Like I don’t really have anything keeping me here....like I could just....up and float away....and no one would...would care...”

Maka felt the blanket trembling around her, felt the quivering in her weapon’s soul, and her heart shattered. “I would care if you up and floated away.” She found her own voice breaking as she whispered, “I would care if you disappeared.” She took a breath and decided to take the plunge, too. “You have a tether, Soul, a connection. I can be your tether; I’ll help keep you grounded. You just have to let down a rope or something, and I’ll grab on. I won’t let you go. I promise. I’m here for you. You’re not alone.”

Silence.

Well, crap. She’d just made things ten thousand times more awkward-

A sudden, rough sob escaped her weapon’s throat, and Maka instinctively threw her arms around him, as if protecting him from the thoughts swirling around his head. Soul froze for half a second and then buried his face in her shoulder and wept bitterly, apologizing again and again as Maka held on to him, tighter and tighter with each “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Soul. It’s okay.” Maka soothed, scooting closer to him and letting him cling on to her as tight as he needed to, even if it made breathing a little bit difficult. She rubbed his back and brought her hand up to cup his head, drawing her fingers inward and outward in a kind of rub against the back of his skull.  “You’re not alone, Soul. I promise.” She whispered in his ear, hugging him close when he sobbed harder. “You have me, and Black Star, and Tsubaki, and Kidd, and Liz, and Patty, and all our other friends and classmates. Everyone at the DWMA. We all love you, Soul, and we’re all here. We won’t leave you. We won’t abandon you. I promise.” She sniffed and whispered, firmer this time. “You’ll never be alone again.” 

[annabeth-albarn-blog]

Can someone please write Maka walking in on Soul playing ‘Brother’ by Falling In Reverse after he finds out his brother had died in some sort of way. I need this in my life right now.

[smokeandjollyranchers]

5 for soma?

He never said it.

He never told her how he liked the way the sun made her lashes glow gold in the early morning sun. Like thin whips of gold kissing her cheeks. She caught him staring once, and asked him at what.

He never said it.

He never told her how he liked her hands, the cracked skin and the tiny white scars that seemed to be everywhere. He liked how her hands were always warm, even in the unbearable heat of the desert, her hands always seemed warm to him. It was comforting, taking him back to the way his mom would hug him after playing in the show all day. Maka was comforting. She felt good, even when she shouldn’t. She caught him smiling once, and asked him why.

He never said it.

He never said how her smile made him smolder. Something in the way the grin could convey any emotion. She gifted mirth to revenge, hiding in the corners of her mouth, and the fire in her eyes. She felt every emotion she gave, and she felt it harder than anyone else. He thought it was a privilege to even take an ounce of how she felt, yet she would give him his own smiles, several times a day, like he deserved her radiance. She poked his cheek one day, asking what that look on his face meant.

He never said.

He never said how brave she was, how much he respected her, how much he loved her. He never said it, not to her. 

He wished he could take that back. 

But Maka was gone, ripped from his arms by a sickness neither of them had seen coming. She hadn’t gone easy, she fought so hard, so annoyed that sickness is what would take her. She demanded to know why, why this would happen to her. He couldn’t answer, he couldn’t say anything. He just held her, every time. He held her and tried to heal her through desperation alone. 

Their last conversation, Maka had told him everything. Everything she loved, everything she hated. She told him how much she loved him. She told him everything that made her, her. He told her he loved her too, more than she could know, but he couldn’t drag anymore words to his throat, couldn’t tell her all those things he never could, because it seemed cheap to do that to her. 

He hadn’t said when he could’ve, and he could never make that up to her. 

[styxjuice]

Strength in Numbers

I actually wrote this thing a while ago, but personally I think it’s one of my best oneshots ever. Besides, I told doctorsamholmes that I’d post it today.

Let there be Sad Eater Soma in the form of an Attack on Titan AU. (Soul’s POV)

Just a hand.

A handthat Maka held over her heart as she saluted me, a senior officer. It was herfirst day of training, and her eyes were so full of life and willingness to fight for humanity. By that time, however, my own eyes had dulled. I had seen death at is absolute worse, and if she stuck with the Survey Corps, Maka would soon see the same. I felt bad for her, really. With her level of cheerfulness, I didn’t feel as if she’d last long when she was shoved onto the battlefield. She soon proved me wrong, however.

Just a hand, one that soon proved to me one of the strongest I knew of.

Since I was in charge of our regiment, I observed Maka’s training often. She handled her 3D maneuver gear expertly. I teased her about it as we grew more comfortable with each other, saying that her success was just beginner’s luck. What I didn’t expect was for her to slam my skull with an insanely thick book. I assigned her push-ups for an hour for injuring a senior officer, and then went to find an ice pack.

When I arrived back, she had thrown herself into her push-ups with vigor. I admired her strength, and resolved never to tease her about it again for that reason. I swear it wasn’t because I was afraid of her Maka-chops.

Just a hand, one that clutched mine when Maka realized her senior officer got nightmares.

Our rooms weren’t far from each other, and I suppose she got to her room later than she normally did, for she woke me from my sleep when she stepped in that night.

“You were crying out in your sleep,” She said, in a tone much gentler than what I had heard her use on the training ground. “Are you all right, sir?”

I sighed, sitting up to face her. I was in my bedclothes, and she wore the same type. I ran a hand through my hair. “When you’ve been in the thick of battle, like I have,” I began quietly, “You’re lucky if you go three nights without nightmares.”

My ash-blonde subordinate watched her feet for a moment. Abruptly, however, she pulled the stool from the other side of the room over to my bed and sat down on it.

“Sir,” She murmured, reaching her hand out, “Lay down, and take my hand.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t order me around, soldier. And what makes you think that’ll work?”

She shrugged. “Strength in numbers, I suppose. It’s just an idea,” She mumbled, beginning to stand, when I suddenly reached a hand out to grab her palm.

“Wait,” I whispered, but I then realized how weak I sounded, and so I tried to adopt a more commanding tone. “Stay, as long as you’re sure you can fall asleep like that. You need to rest up for tomorrow.”

She smirked a little.

“I’ve trained myself to fall asleep while standing if needed, so I can be ready to run. I can sleep fine, sitting here.”

I smiled a little. “Good,” I told her, laying down while clutching her hand. I smirked after a moment, however. “Oh, and don’t try anything on me while I sleep, soldier. Even though I know I’m irresistible.”

She chopped me for that comment, though I never figured out from where she got the book.

It became normal for her to do this whenever I suffered nightmares, and after my hand was safely in hers, I experienced no further nightmares for that night.

Just a hand, one that shook with fear when she was sent into battle for the first time.

“We’re ordered to scout the area!” I yelled to my regiment as we approached the gate. “We need to make sure no titans are planning to knock down this wall! Are my commands clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Called the troops in reply. I nodded in approval, reining in my horse. I was about to kick its side once to send her forward, but my eye caught the sight of Maka shaking in her saddle. I gave the troops the command to move forward at a walk, then trotted over to Maka.

“Albarn,” I said quickly. “We had begun calling each other by our last names since she had begun comforting me, rather than simply saying “soldier”, or in her case “sir” or “commander”. “What’s the problem?” I continued.

She looked up to face me, her eyes wide with fright. “This… This is the real thing,” She squeaked out. I nodded gravely.

“Yes,” I replied, “But I know you’re strong. You’re the toughest soldier in the regiment, Albarn. I know you can do this.”

She only nodded once, her emerald eyes fixed upon the gate before us. I sighed, and much to both of our surprise, I placed my hand on hers.

“Strength in numbers,” I smiled a little in reassurance, quoting her. I then turned back around to face the gate, my smile fading as I kicked my horse into a canter. I soon heard her horse behind mine as the gates opened.

Just a hand, with quivering fingers splattered with titans’ blood after her first battle.

Maka’s face was full of resolve and strength, but her eyes had dulled. Not everyone we set out with had come back alive, and I saw that effect in her gaze. I put a comforting hand on her shoulder as a reined my horse near hers. She looked over at me for a moment, and then nodded one silently. Maka was a soldier now; she had killed her first titan, but not before it did the same to her comrade. It was as if she had obtained a rite of passage.

Just a hand, one that belonged to a girl whom I had to comfort that night.

I traveled to Maka’s room when I heard her scream in her sleep. I sighed when I saw her thrash in bed, and quietly pulled up the stool in her room so that it was next to her and sat down upon it, as she had done for me. Still following her previous actions, I then took her hand. Her fits stopped almost instantly, though I couldn’t sleep in this position like she could. As a result, I woke up the next morning with my torso resting on her mattress, while the rest of me still sat on the stool. My hand remained holding hers. She stirred at about the same time as I did, and blinked lazily to look at me. She looked confused for a moment, but then she saw our hands. Just as I was about to say something, suddenly Maka jumped up and hugged me.

“Thank you,” She whispered. I was surprised for a moment, but then I relaxed and slowly hugged her back.

“You’re welcome,” I told her.

Just a hand, one whose fingers would always entwine subconsciously with mine as Maka slept.

After one particularly horrifying battle, I didn’t even have to go to Maka’s room to comfort her. She rushed into mine, jumping in my bed and curling against me.

“Soul,” She whimpered, shaking as if she was freezing, “Can I stay here tonight?”

I smiled a little at her. “Of course, Maka. Seems like you’re here already, anyway,” I murmured, kissing her temple gently as I pulled the bed sheets around up around us. I loved how her face reddened, and I chuckled a little.

“Calm down, Albarn,” I joked, relaxing against her. She quickly settled down and did the same, and I soon heard the gentle breathing that signified her sleep. I eventually followed suit, holding her to me. Neither of us experienced any nightmares that night.

Just a hand that she wrapped around me as we fought off nightmares.

Just a hand that held mine as we sat together at meals.

Just a hand that slapped me playfully when I cracked bad jokes, as I did frequently since she brought joy back into my life.

Just a hand that held her horse’s reins proudly as we rode past the wall’s gates.

Just a hand that raised her weapon high in the air and was the last thing I saw when I became separated from my regiment.

I called out Maka’s name when I could no longer see her emerald eyes. I sw a flash of blonde hair and her weapons raised in position to strike, but that was it. The forest was too thick. Too tall. Too loud. I felt as if the trees were closing in. I didn’t know what to do without my regiment… Or my Maka. Her words echoed within my mind;

“Strength in numbers.”

Where were my numbers? Where was my strength?

“Retreat!” I called out, hoping my troops would hear me over the thundering footsteps that promised destruction. “Forty-second regiment, RETREAT!”

Only half of my troops made it back alive.

I was devastated, my mind plagued with failure. I had led my troops to slaughter. I had let them down, betrayed their trust. I just prayed Maka would forgive me as I searched for her among the injured after our return; only her words mattered to me.

It was then that Black*Star brought me the weapon. The blade was caked in blood, but my attention was drawn to what held the hilt.

Just a hand.

That’s all that was left of her.

“I saw her, Commander,” Murmured Black*Star, “She fought better than any of us. She killed two of them, but one came from behind, and…” He trailed off as he viewed the utter agony in my eyes. I took her hand from him, prying her lifeless fingers from the hilt of her weapon that they still clutched so dutifully. Blood began to cover my hands, but I didn’t notice. I held her hand to my chest, staining my uniform with her crimson blood as well. Her fingers were so tiny, her skin so soft…

A heart-wrenched cry split my throat as I wept for my fallen comrade. No, Maka is more than a comrade. Or was.

Just a hand.

That’s all that was left of her.

[zxanthe]

headlights

rated T

word count: 716

A/N: a short little drabble based off of this post

It’s so cold. The wind rips the scarf from his face, blasts him with its numbing breath and effectively freezes him to the seat. His motorcycle snarls beneath him, seemingly as eager to escape the outdoors as he is. The single bright headlight cuts a straight path through the darkness, lighting the way. Soul grits his teeth and hunches lower over the handlebars. The cold front wasn’t supposed to blow in until the early morning hours, according to the news. He snorts derisively. This is the last time he trusts the weatherman.

 It had been a long day at the office. He’d had to stay late because some assholes had decided it would be a wonderful idea to hack the bank’s computers. One million dollars had been stolen, and Soul and the rest of the tech department had been glued to their chairs all day trying to patch things up. Soul’s eyes burn with tiredness. It’s eight o’clock at night. Line after line of computer code still swims before his eyes. More than anything, Soul is looking forward to shedding his clothes and collapsing into the warm softness of his bed. His lids droop even further just imagining-

his eyes are blown wide and the lights, they’re dazzling, like twin suns. they fill up his brain, push out every thought until there’s nothing but white white white, and it’s strange because the moment before cold metal meets warm flesh he feels so intangible, like it’ll just pass right through him, like

 (there’s a bend in the road here, very sharp. he can never see round it because there’s a wall of trees blocking the way. maka always grips him tight and squeals be careful! but he laughs at her because it’s not like they’re gonna die or anything)

 the moment of impact is hardly registered. there’s perhaps a muffled crunch and then suddenly soul’s flying, body twisting in cold cold blackness, weightless. but he is not a bird and he falls, hitting the hard earth with bruising force. somehow he’s on his back. violent afterglows pulse across his vision. he breathes in, or tries to. it hurts to breathe. slowly, gingerly, he lifts his left arm, since he can’t feel his right. he probes his chest. he’s wet. soaked. he licks his lips. they taste like copper.

 Soul swallows.

 This wasn’t how he imagined it. He thought dying was going to be slightly more spectacular, at least, than a startled inhalation and a thump. The corners of his mouth lift at the sheer stupidity of it all. Maka wouldn’t be very happy. He can just see her now, shaking her head, tut-tutting. Soul, you should know better. If you’d just been paying attention, none of this would have happened. What’ll I do with you, you silly shark man?

 He laughs, but it hurts to laugh. He can’t stop, though, and suddenly he’s coughing. Something warm and wet flies from between his lips.

 (not much longer)

 His working hand gropes in his pocket, closes around something small, cold. His phone.

 “Hello?”

 “Hey, Maka.”

 “You missed our date. What happened?”

 “Some idiots decided to hack the bank. One million, all gone. Kid’s merciless. I couldn’t get away till now.”

 “Ouch. You okay?”

 “Yeah. I’m still alive, at any rate.”

 Maka laughs, light and tinkling. Soul’s eyes slide shut.

 “Well, tell you what. I’ll go over to your place and make you something. Sound good?” she asks.

 “S’okay. I’m not hungry.”

 “What are you talking about? You’re always hungry.”

 “Mmm. Just stay at home, kay? I don’t wanna keep you waiting.”

 “Oh, you’re still at the office? I don’t mind.”

 “I do.”

 “You’re silly.”

 He smiles, softly. “Hey, Maka?”

 “Hmm?”

 “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this. So, uh, lemme just put it out there: I love you. I love you so much.”

 “Aww, Soul. I love you too. Hurry home, okay? You sound really out of it.”

 “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec. See ya.”

 “Bye.”

 The line goes dead. Soul opens his eyes. The stars wheel above, smeared in afterglow, and the longer he looks the brighter they get, until the night sky is white and blinding like headlights and Soul is swallowed up.

 (it’s okay, though. at least he got to say goodbye)

[professor-maka]

The Fragile

I wrote this like six months ago and never posted it for whatever reason. Don’t hurt me for posting it now. Inspired by NIN, title and lyrics borrowed from the Mr. Reznor. —

She shines In a world full of ugliness She matters When everything is meaningless Fragile, she doesn’t see her beauty She tries to get away Sometimes it’s just that nothing seems worth saving I can’t watch her slip away I won’t let you fall apart. ___ He didn’t know when she has become his reason, had never meant for it to happen, but it had. It had, and now everything he did, he did for her. He lived for her, breathed for her, ached for her, longed for her, had very nearly died for her. He was her weapon. Most days, that was enough. Most days, he could keep her from harm. Today was not one of those days. Today, the impossibly strong woman who wielded him, who commanded him, who possessed his very soul, the woman who mowed down kishin eggs with his blade, who had faced Asura himself, today that woman was fragile, cracking, damned near breaking. He was still her weapon, he still lived for her, yet today he was useless, helpless, the wrong tool to mend her shattered heart. It was killing him because it was killing her. She was withering in front of his eyes and he could do nothing. He looked at her from across the room, her hand white knuckled on the handle of their home phone, her teeth clamped down onto her bottom lip. Though her face was almost blank, he knew she bit down to keep from crying out in anguish, could sense it in the brush of her soul on his that was always present, could read it in her stiff posture and strained voice. He didn’t know what was breaking his meister, almost feared to know even as he longed for an answer so he could save her from whatever it was. And then she whispered “mama,” and he knew he never could. "You’re…sure." He could hear the struggle to keep her voice even, though he couldn’t hear the reply on the other end of the line. "And you’ve informed P—I mean Death Scythe?" More words he couldn’t hear. "Yes. I understand. Thank you for—yes, of course. Monday at 3. Yes. Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mason. Yes, I’ll see you then. Goodbye." Her white knuckled hand clicked the phone back onto the receiver, and for a moment, just a moment, she stood there, tall, blank, strong. Then she collapsed, folded in on herself like a broken card table with an inhuman wail, her body curling on the floor. If Soul had guessed what was happening from her half of the conversation, now he knew, and he ran to her from where he stood in the kitchen, collapsed next to her, pulled her into his lap where she burrowed into him, her arms tight around his waist. He felt her tears soaking hot and wet into his t-shirt, felt her shaking in his arms as she sobbed, as he stroked her hair, rubbed her back, anything and everything to try to fix the unfixable. He was her weapon, but he was also her friend and, ill suited as he was for the task, all she had here and now. All he could do was hold her and watch her shatter in his arms. All he could do was try his damnedest to keep her together because he refused to let her fall apart. He was too selfish to let her fall apart—he needed her too much for that. "I’m here," he whispered against her hair, tightening his arms around her. "I’m right here." "B…but…Mama, she’s…gone," she whispered against him before letting out a keening sob. "I’m sorry," he said as he continued to stroke her hair. "Maka, I’m so sorry." She just sobbed more as he started to rock her, continued to hold her, let his soul wrap around her as his body hunched over her, trying to calm her, still her, sooth her, and feeling helpless to do anything all the while. Useless, useless weapon, it’s all he was—for what good could he be to her here and now? What good was he if all he could do was hold her helplessly as she completely fell apart?

[d4s-scribbles]

SoMa Valentine Challenge- Day 7, Love Letter

This one is sad eater, hella sad eater. Warnings for mentioned major character death and grief. Read at your own discretion.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 8

Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14

Also available on ff.net and AO3

For a long time after thefuneral, she could not bear to go into his room. While Soul may have been aquiet person, he was never silent,and the silence of his room was all kinds of wrong.

Eventually though, she had to. Soul would not have wanted her to wallow in memories, he would have wanted her to move on with her life, to find happiness again.

And the first step to moving on was emptying the apartment they had shared so that she could go somewhere else, somewhere ghosts would not haunt her. He had left everything to her after all, so technically everything in the apartment was hers to do with as she wished.

At first all she could do was sit in his room and cry. She would pick up things and remember when they had been parts of his life. After a while she managed to open his wardrobe and drawers and start packing his clothes into boxes to go to second hand shops. She took all his school books and set them in a pile to be thrown out. Knick-knacks on shelves and posters were put in a box to go to a charity shop that sold all sorts of odds and ends. Records were put to the side, to be sent to his brother, who would appreciate them more (while a couple she set aside for herself).

Then came his desk.

She found a couple of porn magazines in the bottom drawer and immediately placed them in the pile to be thrown out. In the top drawer were tangles of broken headphones he had never thrown away, various chargers and cables, and some pens and pencils. The middle drawer though, was filled with music sheets, covered in his scrawl.

She took a deep breath and blinked back the stinging in her eyes and set the sheets on top of the desk to deal with later.

Underneath the music sheets were a handful of cassettes. They were all labelled ‘Love Letter’, followed by a number from one to six.

Maka put those on top of the desk too.

After all the stuff to be thrown out had been thrown out, and the things to be given away were given away, with only the records, music sheets, and cassettes left, Maka sat down next to her (their) stereo. She put the cassette labelled ‘Love Letter 1’ in first, eyes watering before she even pressed play.

Once she did though, her heart stopped.

“This is so uncool,” she heard her weapon mutter through the stereo speakers. Then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

The sounds of a piano rang out, achingly sweet and slow. Maka cried in earnest as the song continued.

When the song ended, Soul cleared his throat again and murmured, “For you, Maka.”

Maka sobbed that night as she had not since the night her weapon died for her, playing each of the cassettes, crying until no more tears came.

She had the cassette songs converted into CDs, downloaded them onto her ipod and kept them for the rest of her life, even when she found someone to love, even when she got married and had children.

She never forgot the love letters from her first love, her true love. Her Soul.