P.I.N.K.E.L.E.P.H.A.N.T.S
Title: P.I.N.K.E.L.E.P.H.A.N.T.S
Pairing: KidOC. SoulMaka. Black*StarPatty.
Summary: My English Exam Composition that I have SoulEater-ized (it actually turned out quite good, if I do say so myself) KidOC, main pairing. As nonMarySue as I could manage. AU. Enjoy!
Good morning! So, yes, after a very long absence which involved my exams and my mock exams and my practicals and me going to school all through about half of what was supposed to be my holiday- I am back! I was so inspired by the awesomeness of what I wrote for my English Composition Exam (my teacher has no taste. She gave me a freaking 48 out of 6o. Unbelievable. Although I did get a 97 for my Comprehension, but my average- an 88! My God.) that I have decided to post it here! It was supposed to be a oneshot originally, or a sort of summary to this homemade video in my head, to be more specific, but if you guys like the idea and want me to make it a multi-chaptered fic, then sure! The catch is that at least 10 – 20 people give their assent IN REVIEWS. I'm also going to need a few ideas and stuff, so please send in your ideas! That's all I ask. Enjoy! (I lied. In my exam, I said that I had only written 410 words. There were 702.)
Home.
Sometimes Pippi wondered what would have happened if she had never come home that night.
If she had stayed at Nova's house.
If she had visited Shiro and Jaime and Allen.
Anything, instead of coming home.
Would she have been here right now?
Phoebe Stefanov- or Pippi, for short- had been away for the past three months and was finally coming home.
College was fun, but it was nice to finally come home.
Especially after that ghastly assignment.
Ugh.
Pippi shuddered at the thought of the gruelling photo shoot with a certain symmetry-obsessed supermodel. She didn't fucking care if he was Death the Kid- what kind of name was that, anyway?- he was still a stuck-up egotist.
A stuck-up asymmetrical egotist.
Due to her irritation, Pippi had purposely tilted the camera just a tiny bit to the side, drastically ruining the twenty-one year old's 'perfect symmetry.'
Perfect symmetry, her ass.
She had on that smug, smirky look on her face the whole trip home.
Pippi was definitely looking forward to that.
Well, that, and a long, steamy hot bath with her ultra-cool, Ray Ban-wearing yellow plastic duck.
Unfortunately for her, it was never meant to be.
Upon due arrival at her humble abode (home sweet home, baby!) a little (or big) surprise was there, waiting patiently on her rickety little coffee table for her to grace it with her awesome presence.
As soon as she did, however, she regretted it.
Horribly.
A case of mistaken identity had jettisoned Pippi from lowly college student to (the totally unwanted) high-flying (literally, she was on a private jet,) high-paying trainee to the internationally known and world-renowned photographer, Franken Stein.
After five gruelling hours of being referred to as 'Miss Phoenix Stefano' (her mistaken identity's identity) she finally received the opportunity to correct the mess only to be very sorely disappointed. The conversation she had with the company's CEO, Mr. Death (who, she was mighty peeved to discover, was the father of Sir Symmetry and living proof that yes, Death the Kid was actually a real name,) his right-hand man (and Pervert of the Year) Spirit and her supposed employer, Professor Stein, went something like this:-
"But I'm not Phoenix Stefano!"
"Oh, really now?" scoffed Spirit. "Then what is your name?"
"It's Pi- Phoebe! Phoebe Stefanov! It's a 'be,' not a 'nix'and there's a 'v!'"
"Oh well," shrugged Mr. Death. "Same thing!"
"It is not!" fumed Pippi, very close to actually stomping her foot (and hoping that she brought the building down along with it, mercifully and effectively ridding the world of the most unreasonable men on the planet.)
"Oh, pipe down- is it really that bad? Are you honestly that depraved that you would go back to your 'no-life' rather than accept-" Stein waved a hand full of lit cigarette (gracing Pippi's nostrils with flicks of ash and smoke) to indicate the agency. "-all this?"
"Yes!" Pippi shot back. "And I do have a life, thankyouverymuch! You suck, Mr. Stein, and so do you!" she promulgated loudly, pointing an imperious finger at the redhead.
"And by the way," Pippi threw over her shoulder as she stomped (she finally gave in) to the door. "You son-" she told Death. "-is a ponce!"
Slam.
"And an asymmetrical one too!"
Pippi wondered, would life ever have been this good?
At nineteen, now, eight months after her little outburst, she was one of the most promising and sought-after professional photographers in the modelling industry, having discovered her prodigal knack with the camera and was currently engaged to one of the world's top supermodels, Death the Kid.
She laughed at that one.
And to think, just a couple months over half a year ago, they were each other's most disliked person. No one could have hated each other more. He 'symmetrized' (his word) all her belongings and everything he could get his hands on. She ruined his symmetry at every shoot.
Somehow, they were now engaged.
Her uber-hot yellow duck would be proud.
She had surpassed ultra-cool.
Laughing, Pippi wondered. If she hadn't returned home that night, how would it have all turned out.
One word.
Boring.
She was glad she had come home.
That was all there was to it.
So, review! And inbox! And tell me what you think!
Love, ThatGirlWithThePen
