#kidmaka

[ninkeshi]

[orkutie]

[skullywullypully]

Order Up!

[zoey-angel]

Another redraw - day 6 of my 30 day otp challenge <3 (Wearing each others’ clothes)

[ilseofskadi]

please validate me this is the only thing i can write and my grades are suffering

Maka can see ghosts; Kid and his dad were murdered and people suspect his brother who disappeared after; Maka finds Kid’s rings and thus gets Kid’s attention; Kid can’t remember anything of his murder but believes it can’t be his brother; eventually Maka begrudgingly decides to investigate the murder.

For as long as she could remember, she could see ghosts. When she was young she was teased by her classmates, the teachers and her parents brushing it off as an overactive imagination and youth. She saw no problem with it, the ghosts were more friendly than anyone else she knew. During recess she would sit at the edge of the playground and talk to the ghosts, and she didn’t have to worry about being bothered as no one would go near her.

Eventually, as she grew up, she learned to keep quiet about the ghosts. Her Mama started telling her it was time to grow up, her Mama started telling her she had to make friends instead of reading, her Mama started telling her things were changing and she couldn’t be around all the time. She didn’t know why that mattered, or why she should have to change; but as she went into middle school she found it better to pretend the ghosts weren’t there in order to keep herself away from the eye of her pupils.

Middle school was hell. Three years of torture. She tried to make friends in sixth grade, but rumors of her being the “creepy ghost girl” got around to the students from other elementary schools and they kept their distance. Bullies found it easy to pick on her quiet and lonely state. It was much easier to sit and let it happen.

This wasn’t to say she had never made friends.

When the grueling years of middle school had passed and she entered the next stage of education, she once again found herself with the opportunity to make friends. Again, old rumors still floated around, but not as frequent as before. She was able to make acquaintances with a few people, but not real friendships. Part of her had resigned to the fact she would never have friends, and she was prepared to accept that. Of course life has a funny way of showing her otherwise.

.

“You’re the ghost girl!” A sudden voice all but shouted, far too close for comfort, and she was surprised she hadn’t noticed anyone before.

Turning slightly, she moved her eyes from the empty lunch table to the three people who had settled in to her side. Two boys and one girl. One of the boys had a foot on the table’s seat and leaned in close, the girl hovering behind him with a nervous expression, the second boy seemed to ignore his friends in favor of sitting down and taking out his lunch. She didn’t particularly want to respond to the rude comment, but seeing as the three weren’t leaving, she had no choice.

“Yeah,” she spoke briskly, wanting to go back to her food, “that’s me.”

The boy’s face lit up and his grin widened almost comically as he leaned back. He dropped himself on the seat —the girl following suit— and pointed a finger at her.

“I knew I recognized ya! Ya know, I used to be in your kindergarten class!”

“Hm,” she could tell where this was going.

“I was always kinda pissed off about you!”

She suppressed a glare, favoring to put away her food.

“Yeah, everyone always talked about you and how weird you were! It was really annoying! Especially when they should have been talking about me!”

This got a raised eyebrow and a pause in her motions as she waited for him to go on.

“I ended up switching schools for elementary so I never saw you again. But now here you are!”

“Yep,” she sighed coldly, “here I am.”

“Hey, hey!” The boy raised his hands mock-defensively. “I’m not here to pick on ya! I’m here to be friends!”

“Friends? Why?”

“Why not? I figure that you’re not the talk of the school anymore, so I don’t have to hate you!”

“That’s…ridiculous.”

The boy just laughed, the girl behind him sighed and the other boy chuckled along.

“Name’s Black Star!” He pointed his thumb in his chest proudly before briefly moving to point behind him. “And that’s Tsubaki and Soul!” Tsubaki gave a polite “hello” and Soul mumbled around his food. “And you’re Maka, right?”

She hesitated. Was she ready for full-blown friendship? Then again, it didn’t look like she had much of a choice.

“Yeah, I am.”

“A’wight!” Black Star cheered, pumping a fist in the air with far too much enthusiasm. “Hey, what classes do you have by the way? We should all compare our schedules!”

.

Black Star, Tsubaki, and Soul turned out to be good friends, she found. Black Star and Soul —those probably weren’t their real names but even the teachers called them that— were loud and outgoing, always pushing her to hang out and do stuff; Tsubaki was kind and passive, almost like a kindred spirit, but one-on-one “girl time” had shown that she wasn’t always so quiet and polite.

Her parents were glad she had finally made real friends. Her Mama told her she was proud and her Papa let out some nonsense about her not having male friends. She just rolled her eyes, still staying in her room whenever she was home. While her parents smiled and acted fine, she knew they had been trying too hard in the past few years. She knew of her father’s bad habits and her mother’s growing distaste for her spouse, but she kept quiet about it as they thought they were being secret enough for her not to know.

So it wasn’t a surprise when her parents announced they were getting a divorce. In fact she saw it as a long time coming, breathing in relief that they weren’t pretending around her anymore. The divorce moved fast, and she was too involved in her academics to notice when it finally ended and her mother had disappeared across the country —or world— leaving her alone with her father.

Outwardly, she just shrugged and accepted it; but inwardly she was in all words pissed. How could her Mama just leave like that? How could she not take her with? Did she think it was better for her? Better to leave her only child behind with her cheating ex-husband? She thought it despicable. Both of her parents were awful. Tsubaki was a ray of shining light in these times. The girl provided a shoulder to scream at, someone to listen to her venting and rants, and she couldn’t be more thankful for the girl’s smooth ability to lie in order to help her.

With all the events whirling around in her life, she had almost forgotten about the ghosts.

.

Deaths were, as a part of life, not uncommon in any town or city. Murders, maybe a little less common, and violent murders were something thought only to be seen in a larger and heavily populated city. Sure, the name of her home city may include the word “death”, but it wasn’t a grim place by far. Maybe, she thought, it was bound to happen eventually, though.

At the edge of town sat a mansion, grand yet somehow also humble, that housed a fairly rich family of three: a father and his two sons. The father’s job was something business like, something that brought in good money; most people preferred not to know what the man’s job was, wanting instead to build up rumors and outrageous ideas on their own. Both of the man’s sons were homeschooled, and none of them were frequently seen around —though it was a possibility that they were out often and it was just that no one knew what they actually looked like.

They family was more of an idea to the people, something to brag about rather than actually see or touch, and it seemed that most people tended to forget they were even there. At least until the event on a Friday 13th happened. Funny, how the date was one that held such superstition was the one when it happened.

Neighbors in the area around the mansion had reported noises loud enough they could be heard from their houses, and later one report of figures running out the back. Police cars and ambulances didn’t arrive soon enough and the city found themselves without one rich family.

The father and youngest son had been murdered, the oldest son missing, and the police department with their first homicide case in who knows how long. Word spread fast and it became the only thing anyone would talk about. Popular idea was that the eldest brother had some mental disorder and finally snapped, murdering his family and running away. The family had a funeral held, hosted by the city, and tension died down. With the bodies buried, people would be able to forget.

.

Hook Cemetery was a fairly poor kept plot of land built next to a thick woods. No one went there unless they had to. It wasn’t as if it was a scary place, it was just that no one wanted to think of the dead unless needed. Despite its poor upkeep and somewhat dreary atmosphere, Maka loved taking walks through the winding paths of the graveyard.

It was a calming place to be, she believed, because no one frequented the place and she could be left alone to her own devices. Normally her devices were just reading or counting the graves. When she was younger she would visit as often as she could to talk with the ghosts, but as she was older she avoided the idea of such a thing.

With school approaching, and her friends being rather annoying, Maka eventually found herself wandering to her old hang-out place. Shrugging, she didn’t bother turning around to go home, instead walking down the old path of the graveyard and glancing at the old tombstones.

A few minutes in to her walk she was startled by a spectral movement in the corner of her eyes. Her heart beat faster before she remembered. She could see ghosts. It had been years since she saw a ghost, but the fact that she could always hung in the back of her mind.

Stealing herself, she ignored the few ghosts that moved silently and kept on her way. When she came to the other side of the land she turned around, her breath tense as she watched some of the ghosts stare at her. Shaking her head, she went on, walking faster and faster away to wherever her feet would take her next. Eventually she noticed she was near the mansion of the dead rich family, a fact she wouldn’t have taken in had she not tripped over something at her feet.

Grumbling, she turned her attention from the abandoned building to the place where her shoes tapped the offending object of her fall. Brushing her hands around the grass she found two silver rings fashioned with a cartoonish skeleton head. She rolled the objects around, slipping the tips of her fingers in their holes briefly in thought. Shaking her head again, she stood up and found herself pocketing the rings. She pulled out her cell phone to look at the time, a slight frown appearing as she decided she’d have to start making her way home.

Continuing to ignore the few ghosts, she went back to her path through the graveyard. In her pockets she fingered at the rings curiously, wondering where they had come from. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, after passing a rather large tombstone, that she noticed something following her. Her breath held and chest tightened, she picked up her pace, stepping off the path in order to cut through faster. Still, she felt herself being followed. Nearing the edge of the cemetery she sped up a little more, only to once again trip over something at her feet.

Cursing her luck, she picked herself up, rubbing dirt from her face in annoyance. What were the chances she’d trip twice in the same hour? What rotten luck she had sometimes.

“Are you alright?” a polite voice asked from behind, causing her to jump to her feet.

Turning around her eyes widened at the figure before her. It was a ghost, that she knew by the little opacity, and she felt regret clawing at her chest for being as stupid as she had been. The ghost seemed to be a boy if her guess was reliable. He had black hair and wore a black suit with no breast pocket; his hands were at his side, almost hesitantly, and he stood straight up yet still leaning forward slightly.

She swallowed and turned away from the boy, the sound of grass ripping out from beneath her feet accenting her departure. If she ignored him he would go away. That’s how it always went. But of course her luck of avoiding ghosts had seem to run out as the boy was soon at her side and walking with her. Still, she tried to ignore him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to follow her out of the cemetery, and that in only a few more steps he would be gone.

Or at least he should have been gone.

Now a good few feet out of the cemetery land, she stopped abruptly in her stride and turned to the boy. He seemed to flinch back at whatever emotion her eyes were showing, but kept himself composed, seeming to wait for her to speak.

“What do you want?” She demanded, fists balling up at her side as if she could fight him off. The boy remained silent, his head tilting to the side slightly in presumed thought. Still not speaking, the boy reached out a hand slowly towards her, causing her to jerk back.

“Stop,” she hissed, “and tell me, what do you want?” The boy looked her in the eyes, a shiver running up her spine as she finally noted the slight glow of what appeared to be gold. Both held their ground for a moment before the boy finally spoke up.

“I’m following you.”

“Yeah, I can see that! Why?”

“…” he was silent again, now looking her up and down as if questioning himself. “I’m not quite sure. I believe…I believe you have something of mine, though. I do not know why.”

“Something of…” she repeated softly, hands moving to her pockets to pull out the rings. “These?”

The boy’s face lit up and he moved as it to grab them, only for his hands to pass through her own. Face falling slightly for a moment, he stepped back before nodding.

“I suppose…you can keep them.” His voice was quiet, as if he was saddened by something.

“Well I don’t want them.”

“Then why did you pick them up?”

She paused. Why did she pick them up? She had no reason to and she very well could have just left them in the grass. Glancing down at the rings in her hands, she turned them around slowly before looking back up at the boy.

“How come you were able to leave the cemetery?”

He was quiet again, this time turning around to see if her words were true. When he looked back at her he seemed confused himself, but still kept quiet in thought.

“Maybe…maybe it has to do with the rings?” He whispered, more to himself than to her.

Part of her wanted to throw the rings as far as she could at that point, to be able to leave him behind and continue to live her life as before; but there was still part of her that seemed to want to know more. It was as if some unconscious part of her wanted to return to the ghosts, to return to familiarity despite how it made her look.

“So are you going to be following me around or something?”

“…I suppose…”

She sighed, pocketing the rings again and placing her hands on her hips. She started off into the sky, rolling around the thought of having ghosts around again. Glancing briefly at the boy she couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at how awkward he seemed. Rolling her shoulders she sighed lightly before taking a breath.

“My name’s Maka,” she said curtly, turning around just after. “If you’re going to follow me around you deserve to know that at least.”

.

By the time she arrived home, silently sneaking in through the back door, it was already late enough for her Papa to have returned home and pass out on the living room couch. She opted to ignore him, walking up the stairs with quiet steps. Reaching her room she opened her door and closed it, making sure to remain quiet, and jumped slightly as the ghost boy phased through the wood. They stared at each other for a moment but it was broken by her turning around and sliding off her shoes. It wasn’t until she was only wearing her shirt and pants —her jacket and socks crumpled over her shoes— that she hesitated with her fingers remained at the bottom of her shirt.

“Um,” she began, nervous on how to choose her words, “are you going to stay there?”

“What do you mean?” While his voice was even in tone she there was still a slight incline at his question. She held back a heavy sigh and threw up her arms, pausing only to make sure her voice didn’t come out too loud.

“I’m about to get undressed!”

“And?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“What, are you a pervert or something?” And that got a reaction from him.

“No! Of course not!” She didn’t say anything in return, only motioning with her hands for him to try and piece together the situation. When it seemed he wasn’t going to understand she opted to grab her pajamas and move into her bathroom to change instead. Thankfully the ghost decided to to follow her, giving her a moment of peace.

Finally letting out a sigh, she slipped her shirt over her head to replace it with her lighter one. As she removed her pants she paused to take out the rings from her pocket. Noticing that there was a fair amount dirt covering them she decided to run the faucet and rinse them. As the dirt washed away she was able to get a better examination of the bands.

At first they seemed almost like the plastic rings you would get from a machine outside of a grocery store, but as the caked layers of dirt was scrubbed away she noticed they were much nicer. They were heavier than plastic, and they probably shined more when they were still in use. The skull that sat on the front was bigger than she assumed, or than what she deemed practical. They seemed to be well made, as no matter how much she pressed on the skulls to clean them they refused to wiggle even slightly. She wondered how much they cost, where the ghost had gotten them, why he chose to have a skull, and why he wanted two.

When most of the dirt had been cleaned from the small nooks she dried them off nicely with a hand towel. She was almost proud of how she had done. Of course that moment shattered as she noticed the ghost next to her, leaning towards the rings. To make matters more awkward, she remembered that she had still yet to put on her pajama bottoms.

The shriek she let out was, upon later realization, not the best of moves, but it succeeded in making the ghost flinch back.

“Wh-what?” The ghost was flustered, not rightly so in her opinion. That privilege belonged to her in this situation.

“Get out!” She was careful to lower her voice, hissing instead of screaming. How the ghost remained to oblivious was honestly a wonder far beyond her grasp. His sight moved from her face to his rings and back several times. At least they didn’t look at anything else, she supposed. Still, she had to get him out.

Huffing, and wishing she could risk yelling, she threw the bathroom door open and lobbed the rings towards her bed. The ghost seemed shocked by her actions and went to where his rings had fallen, giving her the space to shut the door and the privacy to put on her bottoms.

[kidmaka-week]

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Soul Eater Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maka Albarn/Death the Kid Characters: Maka Albarn, Death the Kid, Soul Eater Evans, Liz Thompson, Patty Thompson, Shinigami-sama | Lord Death, Nakatsukasa Tsubaki, Black Star, Spirit Albarn | Death Scythe, Franken Stein, Marie Mjolnir Summary:

Their truth has shattered and the pieces might never fit back together. Maybe they shouldn’t even try. Sequel to “Life Lessons” and features the entire cast. Currently rated T for cussing, violence and innuendo, but the rating will definitely be going up, mostly because the innuendo will turn into graphic lemons, lol! Cross-posted under the same author/story name on ff.net

[gyrokke]

im allowed to post summer art i live in cali

[ai-araki]

I swear to Lord Death. These two should be Canon And also a friendly reminder that I still love and adore these two

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[beyondtheborderridiculous]

Kidmaka Week 2017 - Day 1: Apocalypse

[stormyzapata]

Death the Kid x Maka Albarn!! ❤❤❤ This rare ship I sail! Hahaha and i actually met someone in twitter who sails this ship too!! Im so happy, i cri 😭😭😭

[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" (ἀποκάλ��ψις) 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.

[zoey-angel]

13.07.15 >>> 06.04.20 redraw from my 30 day otp challenge a while back 

[ilseofskadi]

hades and persephone au bc i live for that shit

still a wip just like the other but i crave validation please validate my writing

also i need to learn how to just suck it up and use names instead of constantly only using pronouns

She wasn’t anyone special. Just the daughter of a demigod and a a human. Sure, she had some power over flora life, but they were nothing in the eyes of a true god’s power. Her lifespan would be short, it was a mortal’s life after all, and she had no divine sway; but none of that bothered her, she was fine with her simple life.

So why was this young man, this obvious god dressed in black standing before her? Why did she now want to see if she could make more of her life?

.

After yet another argument with her father, Maka stormed into the forest, her forest, and sought out her shelter. All but dropping to the ground, she buried her face in her hands and cried. It started soft, still held back from her walk, but soon turned into an angered and frustrated scream as she let the forest surround her. The wind caressed her arms gently and the stream whispered softly in her ears. She didn’t know how long it was until her throat burned out, sore and raw from hard use, her sob turning back into soft crying.

As she wiped her tears with her palms she noticed that she was alone. Normally when she was in the forest the fauna would flock to her, providing her with a calm form of social interaction she could get nowhere else. Yet today, when she wanted it most, she was still alone. Anger built up inside her again and she berated herself for thinking that she was enough to always draw the attention of the animals. Someone like her was too small and insignificant, after all. She pushed herself up from the ground, brushing off dirt from her knees before straightening her back and —

Locked eyes with a living shadow.

She froze in place, something akin to fear settling in her blood as she breathed in oddly cold air. It was clear that whoever this was wasn’t someone like her; no, he was stronger and commanded a presence of fear and awe. Shrouded in shadows, she wasn’t even sure if the person was indeed a he. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was human shaped with glowing golden eyes that seemed to judge her very soul. The silence that surrounded them was thick, yet fragile, and wasn’t even broken when the other decided to turn away and leave.

“Wait!” She didn’t know what compelled her to do so, but almost without hesitation she stepped forward and called out. Her voice was raspy and weak, but somehow the figure had heard her —and stranger still, decided to heed her. They still didn’t turn around, but they stood still, as if awaiting for her to speak again.

But she didn’t know what to say. And they walked away, fading in to the shadows of the trees.

.

She tried not to think of the mysterious meeting after it happened, but every time she went to her corner of the forest her mind always wandered back to it. Her eyes were always mindful of the shadows in the corners, always waiting for one to move. But nothing happened.

Her time returned to singing softly to herself and the animals that approached. Sitting on the grassy forest floor, weaving flowers in circlets as the sun warmed her skin. Deers, squirrels, birds, and more all surrounded her, relaxing enough to let their guards down and rest beside her.

Her corner of the forest was always warm.

.

It was once again after an argument with her father that Maka stormed through the forest. She wasn’t crying this time, but seething raw emotions nonetheless. The air was warm when she stopped, the animals nearby but still keeping their distance. She sat on a mossy boulder and clutched the end of her dress until her knuckles were white. With her mind racing with angry thoughts she didn’t notice the wind settling down into a chill and the animals fleeing back into the forest. She didn’t notice the approaching footsteps or the nearing figure. She did notice the cold voice that broke her from her thoughts.

“Are you alright?”

Her head snapped up in attention, turning sharply to face the source, and once again locking with sharp gold surrounded by shadow. Perhaps “surrounded” wasn’t the proper word this time, as she was able to clearly see a masculine face with pale skin from the darkness. She didn’t flinch back at the chilling presence, but still could not find any words. Somehow she did find the strength to shake her head. She expected the figure to move again, but he remained still; only then did she notice he was only standing across the stream, and not as close as she believed him to be.

“Why are you so far away?” She could have said anything else, or at least been more polite, but her mouth was moving before she could think. The young man, as she was sure of that at least, looked away for a moment, first to the sky then to the water.

“This is as far as I can go,” his reply was firmly stated, yet she couldn’t help but think that there was some kind of hesitation. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her, she was much lesser than him after all. “My powers can only go this far.”

“Powers?” She was still speaking without thinking, but she was drawn in with curiosity. “Why is that?”

He was silent again, this time looking her over and taking in each part of her body. When he seemed to be satisfied with whatever he saw he tilted his head in confusion. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” she shook her head, “but I can tell you’re not like me. Not human…something stronger…”

“You are correct.” He didn’t speak again, instead shifting where he stood in thought. There was a brief rustle of wind and he looked up. Then he was turning to leave. She wanted to stop him, to stand up and call out like she did last time, but found herself unmovable from where she sat.

And he was gone, once again vanishing into the shadows, and life was moving in the forest once more.

.

She didn’t try to avoid thinking of him. She went to the forest near daily in hopes of seeing him again. She dreamt of his glowing eyes in the dark. She delved into books in desperation to find some kind of hint about who he was. There was no way she could stop thinking about him this time.

Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, she had only seen him twice, and there was a rule of three after all. But she could be inpatient, and she didn’t like not knowing things.

Still, no matter how many books she read, or how far she searched the forest, she found no trace of the young man.

.

Maybe he only showed up when she was upset, Maka thought as she stared him down across the stream after once again crying until her eyes were dry. Her lips turned down into a strong frown, but she wasn’t upset at him; though perhaps she was upset at the idea of him. It was strange, and slightly disturbing, but she wasn’t letting this go again. When she finally steeled herself she marched over the grass and past the stream until she was standing nearly toe-to-toe in front of his moving shadow of a form.

“Why are you here?” She wasn’t asking, she was demanding. Throwing caution to the cold wind, she put aside the gnawing feeling that she had no place in speaking to him in such a manner. Silent still from him, any fear was gone and replaced with a growing anger. “Are you ridiculing me?”

His eyes widened, emotion finally flashing on his blank face. His lips parted and he stepped back. It was odd to see this reaction from him. Still, she stared him down and awaited his response.

“No,” his voice was barely a whisper but still loud in her ears, “of course not.”

“Then why are you only here when I’m crying?”

“I am here more often than that.”

“Then how come I don’t see you?”

“Because I do not want you to.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still not know who, or what, I am?”

She paused. She knew she had to respond fast, as he probably wouldn’t be around much longer if their past interactions were anything to go off of, but she needed to see him to form her thoughts.

He stood up straight at full height, taller than her by not quite a full head, but more than half. His skin was inhumanly pale, almost white, and accented by the black he was cloaked in. His hair had three white stripes that stopped half way around his forehead, presumably they wrapped around to the back of his head as well. While it seemed he was wearing shadows, it was nothing more than a cloak that would shift with every slight movement. His very presence seemed to push an idea of fear, of darkness and sorrow. She knew he was a god, and one of much higher standing than she ever saw.

“I don’t know.” Her words were a firm lie. She had a feeling, almost more than a feeling, an instinct that kicked her to run from him; but she would stand her ground no matter what. He would have to tell her himself, and if he dared to leave without doing so she had no problem in stopping him. However, he made no indication of doing so.

“I believe you have an idea.” His tone wasn’t taunting, but she still felt clawing indignation.

“Death.”

“Close. That would be my father.”

.

Maka continued to meet with Death’s son. Kid, he told her to call him. When she asked why he was named that he made a face and asked her to to question it, saying that his father had a unique idea of actions. Really, she thought it was more like begging her not to say any more. He was nothing like she would have thought, and neither was his father if what he said held any truth.

Kid seemed to have a fixation with cleanliness and order, he began to bring a cloth for her to sit on so she wouldn’t get dirt on her skin or clothing. While his face and expressions were more often than not unmoving and almost stern, when she got him talking his voice would rise and she could almost see hints of feeling peeking through. He was also a stalwart listener for whenever she needed someone to comfort her as she cried.

The first time she tried to get closer to him he didn’t hide back his flinch. They both knew she had others she could turn to for comfort, yet she still sought him out. It was as her shoulders shook unevenly that he finally placed his hands on them and pulled her close to his chest. His hands were cold and sent involuntary shivers down her back and she wasn’t even sure if she could hear a heartbeat as her ear was pushed against his ribcage. Still, she gripped her hands into the flowing cloak, her legs giving out as she remained upright only by his arms. They fell to the ground, her knees pressing into his as she trembled against him.

She had only known him for a few months, talked to him for no more than one —if even— yet she couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

.

It took a lot of coaxing for the animals to move close to them, but she Maka set on getting at least one to be near enough for him to touch. The best way for that to happen was for her to be waiting for him, humming to herself and weaving flowers as the creatures curled up to her legs. She awaited the chilling air with anticipation, moving the circlet of purple flowers gently, her fingertips grazing the soft petals with care. It was the stirring of the deer laying against her that alerted her to the approaching cold. She tried to soothe the creature in hopes that it would stay, but as the footsteps came nearer it stumbled up to its twig-like legs and stumbled off.

When Kid crouched down to lay a cloth on the ground she turned to him with a smile, inwardly laughing at his quirk. As he settled down, leaving space for her to move onto, she reached over and placed the flowers over his head. By the time she situated herself next to him he had removed the wreath and was inspecting it. Sadly, the instant it touched him it had began to wither away, the vibrant purple and green fading gray and pale.

“Lucerne flowers?” He guessed, but she just shrugged.

“I thought they were pretty. Is that what they’re called?” She leaned against him, trying to not look too disappointed at the dead flowers. His fingers brushed against a stiff petal, breaking it off from his touch; he frowned visibly and placed the gift to his free side.

“I am sure that would have looked much better on you than me,” his voice didn’t betray his emotions —he had been learning to be more expressive. “They will only wilt at my touch.”

She didn’t respond. He was right, after all. No matter how many times she tried, no matter what flowers she used, no matter how much care she put into her work, the instant contact was made the plants would always die.

“It can’t hurt to try.” She whispered, truly believing her words. She could tell he wanted them to live for a least a few moments longer, and it hurt her that his existence was the reason that couldn’t happen.

“I am fine to simply view them.”

She nodded her head, then rested it on his shoulder with a sigh. Closing her eyes, she let herself simply move into his being. There were no words she could find to portray what she felt when she was close to him. Every second they were together was calm and collected, caring and quiet. It was like nothing she would get anywhere else. She wanted to savor every breath of the cold air he brought.

Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled as she saw a deer across from them staring through a bush. She gently moved a hand forward, noting how Kid’s attention remained on her, and beckoned the creature towards her. It was almost excruciatingly slow, but the deer nervously made its way over, nudging its head against her hand. She whispered kindly to it, but her free hand made its way to Kid’s closest hand. She locked eyes with him and made a motion towards to animal.

“I do not,” he began, gulping, but she ignored him to continue stroking the soft ears of the deer. She gave a squeeze to his hand before letting go, slightly aware of how his hand twitched towards hers.

“I have confidence,” she whispered to him, cupping her hand under the deer’s muzzle.

It took patience, but eventually he slowly reached out a hand to the deer. The animal flinched back, but was comforted by her warm hand. There was a shared moment of hesitance and fear before his cold hand touched one of the ears.

The deer remained standing.

The two let out a breath neither knew they were holding. However, the sound of their relief broke the deer out its trance and it turned and jumped away. The two looked at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“Confidence, huh?” He teased, leaning back on this hands with a slight grin.

“Oh be quiet,” she lightly hit his chest, “it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did,” he paused. He had touched a living thing without killing it.

“You’ve touched me before,” she added, making him realize he had spoken out loud. He quickly looked away, turning his head so she couldn’t see the light pink that rose to his cheeks.

“You are…different.”

“How so?”

He fidgeted, moving his head back so to stare at the sky. She took in the shapes of his face at his distraction. It was warming to her how she had watched him learn to be more expressive with his features and emotions. Then again, there was so much about him that seemed to warm her. He still was hesitant to speak too much about his feelings, but she could tell he was trying. She had almost forgotten she had asked him a question when he spoke, her eyes moving to watch his when he inhaled.

“You are…life.” His words were oddly stilted and he frowned deeply. “I cannot explain it, but there is something about you that simply seems to radiate life. It is a life that I cannot touch no matter the contact.” He looked down at her, their eyes meeting and drawing her in.

“You are a life I should not touch, yet I still find a way. You are a life that provides warmth that finds a way to cancel out my being.”

And what was there that she could say to that.

[kidmaka-week]

Its August! Time has flown by, and soon enough Kidmaka week will begin! For that reason, I am here to reming you that this event takes place on the 23-29.8! 

The themes:

Day 1: (23.8)  Apocalypse

Day 2: (24.8)  Gloves

Day 3: (25.8)  Falling

Day 4: (26.8)  Candle Light

Day 5: (27.8)  Violin

Day 6: (28.8)  Crystal

Day 7: (29.8)  Butterflies

The official tag to use is #kidmaka-week2017. We will do our best to make sure no submission is left unnoticed, so please help us by tagging accordingly.

Please stay aware of the fact that tumblr only tracks tags when they’re placed in the first 5 tag slots, so make sure to first tag your work accordingly, then add your additional comments if there are any.

This week is open for anyone who wishes to participate, may he be a shipper of the two as a brotp, otp, platonic ship or even a part of an ot3. Despite the event being a shipping week at its core, there is no reason to hold back from sharing your personal headcanond and ideas for the pair.

Feel free to send us asks, submissions and headcanons, as we are always open to communication with fellow fandom members and peers!