I’m posting a bit late because I’ve been really stressed and exhausted from work because well black friday is a thing and I work retail but here’s the piece I did for @soulmakazine2018
It was super hard for me to settle on a concept for this ‘cause I’m a sucker for domestic fluff and this was the perfect excuse for it. In the end I went with a combination of cuddling, naps, and reading which is #goals tbh
just a smol note: Grasshopper is now finally up on FFN if you happen to prefer it over AO3
also upon making this post i realized i wrote the title wrong on ffn so, that’s great. still in-character, self. good work. makes up for mentioning chinese food instead of nachos in the fic.
my piece for the @soulmakazine2018 that I can post now I guess? the theme was 5 Years Later so I tried a redraw of a scene from the first ending with them a bit older. thanks to everyone who participated!
Since we’ve been given the permission to share our SoulxMaka Fanzine pieces, I’m happy to finally post this short fanfiction I wrote, “Four Feet are Better than Two”. I hope you enjoy it and find a little laugh. 🙂 Thank you to @chaoticlivi for being able to make the thing happen. It wouldn’t be here without your efforts.
The Rest of the story can be read under the cut or on FFN or AO3
~.~.~,~.~.~.~.~.~.
There’s chatter everywhere. A plethora of proud
parents sit before an old but elegant wooden stage with a rich velvet curtain
drawn across. Soul and Maka sit in the closest seat they could find, the second
section from the front. It’s okay, though. It’s close enough they can see
pretty well, and Maka’s camera has a decent zoom feature.
Beside them also sit BlackStar and Tsubaki.
Their friends’ presence only adds to the excitement. Maybe it’ll even inspire
the couple to have a little one of their own, too, since they just tied the
knot. They’ve both suggested several times that their children would be
beautiful.
“It’s so hard to believe she’s five now,”
Tsubaki starts. Her gentle voice carries both shock and awe and she squeezes
her husband’s hand.
BlackStar, on the other hand, has an entirely
different agenda for Soul and Maka’s little one. He booms with near echo, “Next
thing you know, she’ll be training with me as a meister tomorrow! Ha ha ha!”
“Oh c’mon, dude,” Soul groans. “I’d like her
childhood to actually last.” Not that she couldn’t eventually become a
meister. Hell, she might even produce a weapon form. However, this isn’t
something they’ll know until she matures a little. Soul knows from his own
experiences of discovering his weapon blood – it doesn’t happen that quickly.
For now, though, he’s content just seeing her safe.
Beside him, Maka sends a warm smile. “Well, you
better be ready for round two, then.” She reaches her arm around Soul as much
as she can and offers a small peck on the cheek. Neither knew that they would
enjoy parenthood so much. If anything, it had scared them, but small moments
like this, waiting in the dark to see what their child worked so hard to learn… this is bliss.
BlackStar silently mimics a gag. Soul swears he
can hear the faint words of “family man” within the gutteral sound.
Scoffing lightly, the deathscythe shoves premature insults to the back of his
mind, preserving them for later. He’ll learn one day.
Suddenly the lights go dim as the crowd quiets
down. Cameras and phones rise up like there’s no tomorrow, a handful of them
with blinding flashlights on, despite everyone having been forewarned against
it. Luckily, Maka and Soul have a real camera, and Soul already has it
pointed to the stage. BlackStar’s already determined that he’s too lazy to
bring a camera if Soul is going to record it anyway.
Velvet curtains split apart to reveal a short
but lean dance instructor. “Welcome to the Death City entertainment hall! It’s
in our humblest gratitude that we are able to gather here for an amazing show.
Additionally, we thank you for your attendance today, parents, relatives, and
good friends alike. The Little Tykes Dance welcomes you to our annual ballet
recital! Our students have done very well practicing hard for this amazing
event. They’ve put put together a special show. We’re excited to present to
you: The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy!”
That said, the instructor glides to the right
side of the stage and disappears behind the tucked curtain. A moment later, she
reappears, guiding a group of children along with her. She leads them across
the stage until they’re broadly aligned over the stretch of the wooden floor in
a staggered line.
Each one wears a pastel pink tutu and adorable,
matching ballet shoes with silk-lined strings tied up to their ankles. With
large, white wings attached to their back, they all look like little fairies.
The girls also have their hair dressed up in varying intensities of curls, some
more unkempt than others in the midst of their bouts of impatience, Soul and
Maka’s child being one of them. Soul is tempted to go up there and fix it for
the perfect picture, but in a sense, it’s actually kind of cute this way. Kid would
have a fit if he were here. Soul will have to save the photos as collateral
when she gets older.
As soon as they’re all in place, though, it
quickly becomes evident that one of the children isn’t quite feeling the
performance tonight. Just as quickly as the music starts, the white-haired
toddler on the far left side of the makeshift line drops to the ground in a
sudden, onset tantrum. Tears endlessly stream down her face and the other five
year olds lean over from their spots, curious as to what has their partner so
broken down.
This is my second piece for @soulmakazine2018, with SoMa dancing in the Black Room. Happy with this, with the idiot weird perspective I used to draw for SE u///u
hey guys! i participated in the @soulmakazine2018 with @ahshesgone and this is my entry! please see HERE for ash’s i n c r e d i b l e art; she was the best friend and inspiration for this, and i’m so thankful for her influence on this piece.
i hope you enjoy!
“Pass the salad, wouldja?”
Forks and knives clink on Tsubaki’s finest china while everyone tucks into the mountains of food before you. It is the biannual Spartoi dinner, an event that had grown organically once the mental scars from the battle on the moon made themselves known. You started coming because you thought humans needed companionship during rough times, but you are no longer certain you know anything about them at all.
Ox is chewing with his mouth open to your left. A gob of something lands on your arm with an impact soft as a fly and just as pestilent, drawing all of your focus to that small spot near the crook of your elbow. You can almost feel the saliva eating into the fabric, sinking closer and closer to your skin and then what will you do, then how will you keep the contamination from spreading through your skin through your veins inside your mind –
“Dude, the salad. Or do you need that in writing, too?”
Black*Star’s sneer splits your focus. His right eye is a nauseating blend of pallid yellow and deep purple, and there are many more small scrapes along his chin as if he had been knocked onto the pavement. Given the jobs he takes these days, he likely had been.
You tell yourself that Ox’s spit will not actually rot you from the inside out, and pass the bowl overflowing with vegetables Tsubaki must have picked from her garden. He takes it from you and doesn’t care that his fingertips slam into yours, doesn’t care that dead skin cells from the both of you are now in free fall, becoming dust.
“Would anyone like more to drink?” Tsubaki asks from the head of the table, a carafe of red wine in hand.
“Please,” says Maka from her right, and Soul shifts beside you.
“Same here,” Kilik adds, one arm around Black*Star and the other around his wine glass.
Yours is empty. It appears your father was right about your humanity, or rather, your distance from it. Alcohol does not affect you as it does your peers, sleep has only ever been a choice, and the smile lines you see at the edges of Tsubaki’s mouth will never crease your face. You are a visitor in their world, an observer and an escort. You do not need to fit in, though you wonder why you share their feelings. Loneliness seems unbecoming for a god.
WE CAN POST OUR CONTRIBUTIONS FOR @soulmakazine2018 NOW, SO HERE’S MINE !!! I WANT TO THANK @chaoticlivi FOR ORGANIZING THIS ZINE AND LETTING ME BE PART OF IT—IT’S SUCH AN HONOR TO BE A PART OF THIS PRODUCTION ! ❤❤
This piece was a hecking fun ride ! I’ve obviously been taking a break from Soul Eater and have been delving into Undertale lately (I’ve been flooding Undertale reblogs in my main acc and I’m very sorry for that), but I’m still so proud of how this piece turned out ! I DIDN’T EVEN PLAN IT TO LOOK THIS WAY ! ;-;
I’ll also take this time to shamelessly plug—I made an instagram account recently (@nikowldrawbbles) just in case you guys would like to follow me over there. I post some stuff there that I don’t post here, sooooo *v*
part-time recluse 