What Soul Thinks
Speaking hypothetically, what would Soul think if Black Star had the hots for his best friend and partner?
Well, he'd think a lot of things.
He'd mull over the best ways to kill someone with their own bladder.
He'd wonder if Black Star's tongue would stretch all the way to his eyes and then his brain. Then all the way back through his nostrils and then maybe someone down below further that would most definitely leave a bad taste in the ninja's mouth.
He'd think that Maka wearing that short, short skirt wasn't so hot anymore and force her into shorts if he had too (which, now that he was thinking about it, wasn't that bad a deal).
He carefully mused the many lovely ways on how to kill a certain blunette.
And then Maka walked into the room.
"Oi, Soul, on that date with Kid. Blair's chaperoning. Be back in an hour."
Then he thought of all the wonderfully beautiful and asymmetrically deadly and blunt or sharp objects in which to pierce and bruise and quite frankly beat down every pore in that bastard arrogant-assed rich boy down to the Shinigami-be-damned nucleolus in his skin cells.
What Black Star thinks
"Soul. You need to get Maka away from that date."
"I know."
"Blair's chaperoning, dude."
"I know."
"This could go both ways."
"... Threesome?"
"Dude, if they're going to go at it, I want in-"
"Quit being a dumbass, Black Star."
"Whatever. Anyway, we could either end up with Death the Kid JR. in about ten months-"
"Oh my God."
"-or Kid'll get shot into Mars by a pumpkin, should Blair, like, be like that."
"... Sabotage."
"Sabotage."
What Sid thinks
"I'll kill you, I'll freakin' kill you!"
"C'mon, Maka, say it like a man!"
The blonde meister glared at Sid. He blinked. He then let out an "ohh" when he remembered Maka was a full-on feminist.
"C'mon, Maka, say it like a woman!"
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
"LIKE A WOMAAAAAAN!"
"I'LL FUCCCCKIIIING KILLLL YOOOOOUUU!"
"THAT'S RIIIIGHT!"
"YEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHH!"
When Soul walked in on Maka stamping on a garden snake mercilessly while their blue zombie-dude teacher applauded and praised her...
he just.
Sort of.
Walked out.
It seemed like the best thing to do.
What Maka thinks
"I. Like. I reaaaally want'cha."
"Drunkass."
The white haired man – barely legal, what was he doing at a bar on his twenty-first birthday? - glanced to the left. A woman – who looked barely fourteen, how'd she get in here? - was giving him a rather sultry glare.
She slurred something about taking "an extra dose of sexy, seckerdyyyy" and tried, tried, to lean on her elbow, maybe attempting to look attractive.
She was doing fine with a modest-but-not-too-much outfit and the sweet legs, but really, the pure alcohol poisoning on her breath and the fact she couldn't lean on her elbow much less sit on a chair like a normal, half-sober human being was bringing down the seven rating to a four.
"Lady, I'm not interested."
"But I am."
"And you really think you'll get what you want, huh?" he allowed himself to give her a seductive – sadistic – smirk.
"I alwaysss doooo, hehehe."
He cocked his head in a challenging manner. Did this girl really think she was sexy enough to get him? Please.
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, showing off the little cleavage she had. Soul's eyes trailed down and he indulged himself in the sight.
So. Stranger lady was seductive, funny, and arrogant. She could match him in a battle of drunken wits, and good god, those legs!
"Always doooo, huh? Heheh."
Later that night, he had a lot of fun.
The next morning...
not so much.
Especially when the chick apparently was not that into him anymore after she got a hangover, called her best friend, cried, and smacked him a couple of times.
With a freakin' book.
… What did he like about this chick again?
What Romeo – er – Rome-IDIOT thinks
"Hey, chick from Titanic. Get'cher ass off the balcony."
"NOOOOO!"
"A C won't kill you."
"YES IT WILLLL!"
"RAPUNZEL, GET THE FUCK OFFA THAT TOWER BEFORE I DRAG YOU OFF OF IT!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'M DEAD! I GOT A DAMN C! A C! A C A C A C A C A CCCCCCCCC!"
"STUPID BEAUTY, I'LL KICK YOUR ASS OFF MYSELF IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
"FUCK OFF, YOU CRAPPY BLUE-HAIRED ROME-IDIOT!"
What the blood thinks
He'd always loved how Maka spun him around like some sort of water whip. Her hands moved so fluently across his shaft while he sliced Pre-Kishins in bloody halves. Not a drop of red touched her.
He'd always loved how in a battle she jumped in with reckless determination that this is one step closer to whatever she wanted. She was a stubborn and determined and stupid girl and that showed in her fighting.
He'd always loved how she jumped around, twirled him, whirled herself, did a ballet dance almost crossing over the fragile line between life and death constantly but she was too good for that, too graceful, like a swan.
He'd also always loved how often she held him, just like that.
Really, he'd forever love the way Maka fought. She fought with all her heart, threw away her brain and she finally had a chance to just let loose and go crazy and dance around like a maniac while releasing any pent-up PMS on someone other than him. She didn't taunt, she just sliced – she was a very pointed girl – and was quick and graceful with her work.
He didn't like that part. It went too fast.
One second they were swimming in a sea of blood, slicing and dicing some poor sucker's ass while everything was free and flowing and they were allowed to just be the sadistic, bloodthirsty sociopaths they were.
And then another and they were thrown back into the depths of normality, work and her father and his past and crazy gods and manic teachers that all went a bit too far for him too deal.
So Soul's always loved the way Maka has fought.
The other parts would take a little while though.
For now he'll just relish in the blood lust.
What the cat thinks
She didn't care for this figthing.
All she and her little cat tail and ears wanted was a little peace, a little milk, and a hentai doujin.
Really too much to ask?
Soul and Maka think so.
So they fight constantly. Just to spite her. She knows behind the glares of their fiery blood and olive eyes they really love each other and they just yell and hit each other just to annoy her. She wants a cat nap. They want a war. It's impossible to live with those two! How can they stand it!
… Oh, yeah, because they're devious, evil little brat monsters with bubbly eyeballs and melting skin that are boiling up neon pink concoctions in their little witch and warlock cauldrons to cook her and her sanity in.
Well, boo.
She couldn't let that happen, now could she?
"YOU LITTLE ALBINO BASTARD, YOU THREW AWAY MY FAVORITE PAIR OF SOCKS!"
"YOU BITCHY LITTLE TINY-TITS'D BITCH, YOU PAINTED PINK ALL OVER MY WAR BAND!"
War was right. This has gone on far too long!
"I'LL- I'LL KILL YOU!"
"I'M THE ONE WITH THE SCYTHE ARM!"
"Excuse me, but I'm the oldest one hear, no?" Blair interrupted.
She was answered with two malicious glares.
"Well, then, I have the answer."
"Nnnn," they replied, their anger rather overflowing and too much to even try to speak normally.
"Pump~ Pump~ Pumpkiiiin~"
"OH SHIT-!"
"Halloween Hormonessss~"
The two teenagers stared.
And stared.
And stared.
Maka got two lumps on her chest.
Soul's pants got a bulge.
They were at each other like wolves on a fat kid.
Blair purred contently and went back to her doujin.
Funny, Soul's pants were being ripped off the same time as doujin Soul's.
What the doctor thinks
Hey doc Stein, you know you're really cool, right?
Dissecting people. Yeah. Really fun.
Let's cut V-shaped
V-shaped
look inside and tear the inside and search the inside and grab the inside and rip the inside and kill the inside.
It'll be fun, won't it?
C'mon, c'mon, I bet it'll be fun.
Why don't you pick up that cigarette. Why don't you break that screw right off your damn head.
Why not pick up that blonde chick that you work with.
You know the one.
How about you search inside her for all the secrets she held.
You'll know her secrets. I'll know her secrets. It'll be a fun time. Dissecting. Yeah.
Dissecting.
Yeah.
Fun.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Well. How fun. Interpret what you want, and please review!REVIEW REVIEW REVIEEEEEWWW 8DDDDD
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