A/N: So...this is what I am currently doing with my life right now. APoS should be updated soon, but this is, quite honestly, more fun at the moment. I think that Maka has the potential to be a lot more sarcastic than any of us think (she lives with Soul and Blair after all, and let's not forget she's friends with Black Star, I think even Kidd had to gain a sarcasm backbone after meeting him) so having this type of Maka in my head is a whole heck of a lot of fun. Also, later when things get more interesting the Soul/Maka dynamic should make everyone (including me) happy, so...we'll see how this goes!

Thank you so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! Replies to reviews are gonna be at the bottom.

Disclaimer: The voices in my head tell me I own Soul Eater. But my invisible pet dragon swears the voices aren't real so...guess I don't own it. (Or Lil Wayne, Shakira, Coca-Cola, little phrases that come from internet videos, the Bible, Donnie Darko, Harry Potter, and anything else I mentioned that we all know is not mine-I do take responsibility for all sarcasm, however.)

-Episode 01-

You Know You're Antisocial When You Start Creating Imaginary Friends

"Oi."

Maka squeezed her closed eyes tighter, hoping and praying that his voice would go away and not come back any other day. It was odd and unsettling to have husky, velvety maleness breathing into her ear this early in the morning.

"Oi. I know you're awake."

Deep breaths. Continue to ignore. It'll pass…eventually….hopefully…

"Hellooooo in there! Your dumb and annoying alarm is going off again, so I think it's time for you to get up, woman."

She flipped from her left side to her right in a futile attempt to shake whatever hold this early morning hallucination had over her. Not that it would do much good. She knew from past experience that it wasn't easy getting rid of him.

Or was she supposed to call him an it since it wasn't actually there?

Hell if she knew. There wasn't exactly a handbook on "proper interaction with your illusions" etiquette.

"For Grim's sake will you please get out of bed and turn the damn thing off! Some of us need beauty sleep and, for the record, it doesn't matter how many hours you get, your tits aren't gonna grow. So get your ass up and quiet it before I throw it out the window!"

If Maka had learned anything from this strange embodiment of her subconscious it was that she buried a lot of annoyance and anger on the inside. And sarcasm. Loads and loads of sarcasm. Which was funny and ironic because she would have assumed with the frequency of her Maka-chops and the multitude of snide remarks she uttered each day that she was releasing her pent up rage and irritation just fine.

Ah, well. At least she understood herself better now. That counted as silver lining on some cloud, right?

With a resigned sigh, the blonde girl heaved herself up and swung a leg out of bed, all the while refusing to stare at the second body in the room. The body that wasn't a body; the person that wasn't a person.

She had gotten a good look at him before deciding that if she evaded seeing him then eventually her brain would have to get bored of tormenting her. But, judging by how often he appeared and insisted on talking to her, she came to the startling conclusion that she was an "in the closet" masochist.

During her prolonged ogle of the strikingly handsome man her apparently perverted (and masochistic) mind fabricated, Maka couldn't help but pat herself figuratively on the back. As boys go, he was beautiful and unusual. A real masterpiece. She had never seen anyone like him before and mused where on Earth she had hidden him in her fantasies. His hair was colorless, transparent, but shone with an inner white-blue light that granted it the ability to consume and emit a variety of shades and colors from his surroundings. It hung haphazardly with alternating spikes and bangs throwing his aristocratic features into shadow for a moment before he gingerly swept it out of his way. The action brought blazing, simmering red eyes to her attention and their rapt, intense gaze elicited a gasp from her wide open mouth. She struggled, as writers do, to find the perfect description for the rich cardinal color he was lucky enough to have in his irises only to discover that garnets and rubies could hardly do them justice and were truthfully quite poor comparisons. The intense color scheme of red, white, and golden skin seemed to shine against his dark pinstriped suit and she had felt seriously underdressed in her pale pink bikini in the sweltering air of her room.

And to top it all off? His wide smirk at her apparent embarrassment and state of undress revealed glistening, razor sharp blades someone ingeniously put in place of the regular, blunt squares most people had in their mouths.

Maka didn't particular want to psychoanalyze why her latest hallucination was a demon-like boy with shark teeth in her bedroom. The prude in her feared what Freud would deduce from these sensual attributes, what they attested to when it came to her more…womanly desires.

Was her Papa's horndog kink hereditary?

Oh, God, look away! Look away!

And from that panicked thought onwards, she did. She refused to let her eyes wander over his physique any longer than that first wondrous, unknown glance, though damn did he look dashing in that neatly pressed suit! Still, madness would not have free reign over her time and energy anymore! This, this was the breaking point and Maka'd be damned if her lonely, discouraged teenage subconscious would get the best of her!

But, on second thought, maybe a visit to a therapist might be in order since pretending he wasn't there…in her room…every day…wasn't working out exactly how the blonde wanted it to.

A loud, disgruntled scoff sounded to her left and, though she steadfastly kept her eyes pinned to the floor and her fuzzy socked feet, she saw in the corner of her vision his tall frame leaning languidly against the wall. She barely noticed his chin dip in irritation as her alarm continued to wail in the background like the opening to a Lil Wayne song before a chill passed over her; her shoulders and arms ignited into tense muscles and upraised goose bumps.

He was watching her. She knew it, too. Cause she only felt this way when he focused intently on her, which usually took place right before a rude remark or passing comment she assumed was meant to make her talk. Maka was slightly unnerved at how clever and sadistic she was to her own self.

"Since when do you wear a bra and sweat suits to bed? I preferred last week's attire of big shirts and panties."

Anddddd there it was. She didn't have to peek at him to simply know he likely sported a lecherous grin. It was a shame that the disgusting essence of a male remained even in her creation.

Silence was her reply. Silence was her life now. When he wasn't yacking her ear off with his constant stream of cynical profanities and steady influx of questions, he followed her.

All. Around. The. Damn. House.

She barely opened her mouth anymore, fearful that she would essentially begin to talk to herself (she believed discussion within the mind was acceptable) and that would mean insanity was winning. The bathroom was the only safe haven left. It had been in danger of intrusion as well until she had acknowledged his existence long enough to threaten that, real or not, should he attempt to peep on her, his little peepers would be cruelly ripped off.

He had mused how conflicted she made him feel that day—happy that she had spoken to him but quite scared at her fierce speech. He didn't dare follow her in though, and that made her brief submission to her illusion worthwhile.

Well at least the option of becoming a nun was more realistic and available. Maka swore to her mom, in one of their last conversations, that she'd never let a man own her. Kami's response was to merely laugh guiltily and awkwardly before informing Maka that the monastery life wasn't for her—she wouldn't last a day under a vow of silence—and that she'd find the proper one. In time.

The young blonde wondered whether or not her mother would believe that Maka had been practically mute for three whole days. Probably not. All her life she'd been too emotional, sarcastic, and eager for knowledge to keep still and silent…until her subconscious decided to go all schizophrenic on her.

Ironic, wasn't it? The reason she felt trapped and oppressed in her own home was because of herself.

Ah, well. Daylight was burning and she was yearning. For school. And all the peaceful escape and solitude that she associated with the creepy institution.

Shibusen Academy was an old psychiatric hospital turned local high school. Apparently the hospital shut down sometime in the mid-70s for reasons not officially disclosed; Maka suspected it had something to do with the Progressive Era's terrible experiments and lobotomies on the mentally ill. The previous high school, the DWMA or something like that, burned down in '83 and the town didn't have enough taxpayer dollars to rebuild. So, with another building practically the same size as the one that fell to ashes conveniently unoccupied a few miles down the road, Death City decided to convert the ex-psych ward into its high school.

As if school wasn't prison enough figuratively the students at Shibusen Academy literally sat in rooms that once caged inmates. Maka almost felt like they were filling placeholders—old out, new in. It made the already estranged town just that much stranger to the blonde.

Don't get her wrong, the young female loved school. Perhaps a little too much. And she was pretty grateful about the smooth, easy move away from her original birthplace. But living in a town called Death City in a house named Gallows Mansion and going to a high school that used to be a mental facility was a smidgen weirder than she originally anticipated for her life to be. Nonetheless, though initially she found the school a bit disturbing and the youth annoying, Shibusen Academy had an excellent and expansive library she fled to during her breaks and for a handful of hours after the day was done.

The cherry on top?

She didn't hallucinate at Shibusen and if that wasn't a beautiful, refreshing liberation then someone please inform her otherwise.

But this particular day was passing excruciatingly slowly and her heart just wasn't in it. Maka, normally a model student with an impressive, slightly scary attention span, uncharacteristically fiddled with her pen, juggling it across her fingers and spinning it in circles on the wooden table. Her teacher, a lonely stout woman who usually believed constant rambles were more educational than prescribed course material, currently ranted about the latest conspiracy and gossip floating around Death City. Admittedly the story was interesting and the blonde was thankful that nothing important was being discussed on the day her concentration decided to go for a vacation, but honestly she wanted nothing more than to go home. Not to Gallows Mansion where sounds echoed in the emptiness and her sanity disintegrated to pieces, but the tiny three room duplex she had shared with her mother, father, and a questionable older man on the other half. She longed for that place where the sun shone properly (in Death City it appeared to have a weird, imperfect shape to it…almost like it was maniacally grinning) and she could walk outside without feeling like she had been deep fried at the Texas State Fair.

"…the death count is too damn-ehem, too darn high! Some sources state it has escalated to approximately four and a half people so far and DCPD is refusing to release a report on what's going on! You really should pay attention, children, and use your critical thinking skills to assess what's occurring in your community because vigilance is the key to progress, success, and protection."

A student a few seats away from Maka, whose name she couldn't quite recall due to the fact that she was way too caught up in his hairstyle at the time of introductions, raised a hand in the air. It was straight as an arrow with the elbow locked into place and the teenage girl wondered if he was attempting to match his pointed black…whatever-they-weres, maybe fake hairpieces, on either side of his shiny bald head.

"Excuse me, Miss Sani, but how exactly can only four and a half people be dead?"

Maka sluggishly rubbed her heavy eyes and reclined on an arm as her attention switched back to the disgruntled teacher. She had secretly been asking the same thing.

"We-well, you know that-they-it…in, in one instance they only found half a body, Mr. Ford!"

"So they found four and a half bodies…but, and correct me if I am wrong, Miss Sani, a person cannot live with only half their body intact, which would mean there is a total of five people dead."

The class erupted into barely suppressed snickers and chortles. Even Maka couldn't completely hold back a smirk. She could tell by the boy's straight face and monotone voice that he wasn't intentionally trying to make their teacher look stupid, merely assert the right facts, but the damage was done. Miss Sani puffed out her flushed cheeks and straightened her back as she glared menacingly at the shuffling group of young people, daring someone to laugh again.

"…I suppose you are correct, Mr. Ford." She sneered angrily. "Ford" suddenly smiled smugly for a fleeting second, no doubt happy to be the one who was right in the facts and intellect, before his face fell back into its usual neutral blankness.

Maka snorted softly to herself. She didn't feel quite as offended as she had the day before yesterday when the creepy boy had told her she'd never be the smartest in the class. Obviously the kid had a severe academic disorder, maybe worse than hers, and didn't entirely pick up every social cue.

"In any case, due to Mr. Ford's…enlightening comment, I would like you all to research and check the facts of the crimes and investigation. Pay attention to the local news and remember to bring a five-page report this Friday on anything that seems particularly sketchy or was handled improperly by the authorities. You are all dismissed."

All, except for black-pinhead-bald boy, groaned at the teacher's inflicted punishment, immediately regretting their joy at her expense. Several sent glares Ford's way, though if he noticed them he showed no indication of it, as they trudged morosely out of the classroom. Maka tiredly gathered her things and followed the crowd out, ignoring the grumbles that echoed down the ugly yellow walls. Her feet slapped loudly in the quickly emptying hallway as she sped towards the library.

Maka was fortunate enough that her last period was a free one. And what better way to spend the rest of a horrid day than in the quiet isolation of the library?

She eagerly breathed in the musty smell of gradually decaying paper and dried ink that constantly hung in the still air, immediately feeling her shoulders sag in relief. But, underneath the comforting scent, she detected the unsettlingly sting of antiseptic and disinfectant that reminded her of the building's strange past. Nonetheless, the blonde shook her head and proceeded to her little nook and table in the back where she stashed a tall pile of books she planned to read this semester.

Ten minutes into a tome that covered every Edgar Allen Poe work, Maka heard a new voice pierce the silence of the library. Curious to who, other than herself, would enter the library for fun, the bookworm stealthily untangled herself from her hidey-hole and tiptoed around a bookshelf to glimpse whoever was talking with the librarian.

And it was just the newspaper guy. Passing out the school newspaper. The newspaper that was about as factual as the National Enquirer and Miss Sani. Even from her sneaky spot she could see the bold, daring headline screaming "MURDERS…DCPD COVER UP?"

Figuring she may as well get the dumb report on the city's local conspiracy theory and criminal gossip over with, Maka strode forth and snatched a newspaper off the edge of the librarian's desk. She pretended not to notice the newspaper guy and the librarian's faces at her jerky motions and sudden appearance, preferring instead to stomp off angrily. Who gives young people an assignment that practically begs to distrust and rebel against authority?

Stupid small towns with their stupid, creepy schools and stupid, tight-lipped community and uneducated, gossipy teachers.

The longer Maka lived here (and the longer her subconscious projected itself as an undeniably good-looking, snarky male), the more she thought that this move had been a bad idea.

Her unease and annoyance solidified after she read the so-called "truth" of the matter on the front page of The Shibusen Reaper. Really, this was just poor journalism. Not to mention terrible writing; she had counted, what, seventeen grammar mistakes? We are going to their house. There is the house. And they're at the house. It wasn't that hard!But then again this was written by people whose most "plausible" theory was that someone was housing an experimental weapon/monster-thing and the DCPD may or may not be covering it up or is incompetent in their investigation.

Honestly, why not blame the aliens at this point? Everyone else did it since Roswell anyways…

But evil, uncontrollable monster apparently had a nicer ring to it.

She was almost done reading the trashy article when…

"Excuse me, you are Maka, right?"

Though the voice was soft and exceptionally timid, it didn't stop the blonde from jumping about three feet into the air and collapsing off her seat. She hastily blew her bangs out of her eyes and shoved her red plaid skirt down before glancing up from her bent sprawl on the ground.

"Oh my! I am terribly sorry…I did not mean to startle you…"

Luminous navy eyes that reminded Maka of starry nights and whale documentaries stared helplessly at her, guilt and apologies swimming on the glittering surface like rainbows dancing atop the spray of ocean waves. The girl was tall, almost freakishly so, like a supermodel, though her height was most likely accentuated by the shorter girl's position on the floor. She was also gorgeous. Incredibly gorgeous. Her voluminous shape was a living, breathing portrait of a photoshopper's wet dream. Hell, even Shakira's hips would lie if they had the chance to look like hers. The strange, exotic tilt to her eyes and long black hair hinted at an Asian ancestry and only added to her striking allure.

It was kind of sad that Maka hated her almost then and there. She tried to tell herself that it was because she had been "snooping around" and "scaring her for laughs," despite the girl's obvious embarrassment and sorrow over Maka's fall, but really it might have had more to do with the fact that this girl had boobs and a figure while Maka didn't. Not to mention this young lady was exactly her floozy father's type.

Damn teenage hormones, insecurities, and her adulterous father. As if having the frontal lobe of the brain develop and dealing with becoming a member of society wasn't hard enough at this age…let's throw in chemical imbalances, self-esteem problems, and daddy issues!

Grr. Life.

"Are you okay?" The tall girl hinged at the hip and stretched a perfectly smooth pale hand out towards Maka, although the movement caused her breasts to swell and that caught the other girl's attention more than the offer to help. She scrambled to her feet and moved two feet away as though her boobs were contagious or something. After her awkward shuffle, the two girls awkwardly stared at each other as Maka awkwardly shifted from foot to foot in the extremely awkward situation she had inadvertently put herself in.

"Um…good, I guess. And who are you?"

Well, Maka never was known for being "tactful" or for her bedside manner.

The supermodel-esque girl blinked profusely, just then realizing her hand was still extended out in the air. She started to retract it until she met Maka's confused gaze. Then, a bright and brilliant smile blazed forth and Maka could only stare entranced as the female took the necessary steps forward to make her weird outstretched arm the appropriate distance for a handshake.

"You are Maka, yes? My name is Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Eerily feeling like Paul being blinded by Jesus, Maka hesitantly met her hand, shaking it for the socially acceptable term of two seconds before removing it like she had been forced to touch fire.

"Um…yeah. Nice to meet you. And stuff."

Seriously? When on Earth had she acquired such extraordinary social skills?

Tsubaki unleashed that thousand-watt perfectly white smile again and Maka had to forcefully stop herself from backing away slowly and running for the Himalayas. If she wasn't careful things might get worse than what was already happening (which was the intrusion of her quiet and happy place). Girls, like sharks, could smell blood and fear after all.

There was a lull in the conversation (if one could even call their exchange that) as Tsubaki nonchalantly sat on the cherry oak table and glanced at Maka's outspread books, unfolded newspaper, and messy scrawl on her notepad with interest. Oh dear Lord, she had sat down. This woman wasn't going away, was she?

"Ah!" The raven-haired girl exclaimed. "You are looking into the recent Death City accidents! That is interesting. Especially since you live at Gallows Mansion and all. Personally, I think they are a serial killer, though perhaps I am biased. My father is one of the investigators looking into the case and he suspects that there is a pattern and profile somewhere to be found. However, I must say our school paper is not exactly the most…credible of sources if one is actually curious about the topic."

Accidents? Serial killers? And she mentioned the mansion…what was going on? Was this beauty more than a pretty face? Was she actually someone Maka could talk to?

Wait…was she making a friend?

"Um…yeah, well, it's just…Miss Sani told us to write a report on the weird stuff going on and they, well he, well the newspaper guy, just delivered it so I thought I'd take a look and…you know what, I think I just heard the bell, so I will…find you later so we can continue this…conversation…later."

Nope. No she was not. She was backtracking faster than that trippy rewind in Donnie Darko. Or as though she had borrowed Hermione's time turner. Get away. Get away. Get away.

"See ya later!"

Maka was ashamed that she practically sprinted from the library, fleeing like a terrified, pathetic little girl. She wasn't usually like this…so weak and fainthearted and weird. She could usually handle herself well enough around people. Or at least spit out one articulate fucking sentence. Sure, she didn't have many friends back in her hometown, none that she had gotten super close to, but she never avoided people to this extent. She enjoyed her quiet time, but, hey, if this girl wanted to be buddy-buddy with her and discuss a topic that honestly would engage her brain, who was she to cower and run away?

Only there was something about that girl that reminded her of fluffy snow-white hair and glowing coals, of late night noises and cold whispers.

Something was not right here. In this town. In her school. At her house.

Death City was getting a heck of a lot creepier than the name suggested and actually living up to its name with the steadily growing body count. Accidents, her ass. Maka wasn't so sure she was crazy anymore, though even the thought of not being crazy with the hallucinations she was having was crazy. Bat shit insane in fact. But her gut had never led her astray. Never. And her intellect typically backed up her intuition like a Rubik's cube finally being solved.

Now that there was a real person setting off her "freak-o-meter" Maka wanted to go home and appraise her so-called illusion another time. And maybe look into these so-called accidents while she was at it.

She took her usual route home, making a swift detour to the nearby gas station for a copy of two of the more "credible" newspapers in town. She started on her way again before going back to the gas station to buy a Coca-Cola. The teenager inwardly denied the idea that she was walking slower the closer she got to her destination and trying to procrastinate the inevitable. She shook off the feeling of unease and dread that settled in a coiled ball of tension in her stomach when she made it in front of her door. Pretended that she wasn't nervously panting or sweating—it was Nevada, the weather was simply hot. This happened to everyone.

Her ears strained for any noise, anything at all, once inside besides the slight squeak of the door closing and the soft thump that meant the lock had slid into place. She kept her back turned to the open lobby and just listened, waiting for any sound that hinted at someone's approach.

A piercing whistle, barely noticeable, barely there, on her left and then…

"Hey there, sweaty. What the hell? Did you run a mile in school today? Dear Grim, you stink."

Maka spun, unsurprised to see the boy who starred in her waking nightmares. The boy that wasn't a boy. Or wasn't supposed to be anyways. She wasn't so sure what he was. Chemical imbalance sounded a lot better than any other alternative. But that girl…

He seemed surprised, eyebrows hiding under his disarrayed bangs, when she didn't shirk away from him like usual or shift her gaze. Instead, her green eyes pierced his entire essence, roaming up and down. She looked for any clue, any telltale sign—of what she wasn't particularly sure. Some sign that he was either real or not real, though it shouldn't matter much. She was fucked whatever the answer ended up being.

The blonde opened her mouth to speak and watched peculiarly how the red-eyed intruder stood up out of his continual slouch and gazed at her imploringly. As if he desperately wanted her to speak to him.

Her tongue was forming words, a sound about to be thrummed into existence, when there was a loud groaning sort of noise and the chime of crystals hitting one another. Maka's eyes snapped upwards to see, with horror, the chandelier hanging in the wide front lobby swinging back and forth wildly. The fixture's holdings began to pop and give; splinters and cracks appearing in the off-white ceiling. She shrieked and heard the person-thing-illusion-whatever next to her yell something.

Then, there was the appearance of a shape on the chandelier, something that buzzed and trembled and was a painfully bright blue; or was that teal?

The "shape" jumped and agilely landed in front of Maka, morphing right before her very eyes into a person. A stocky boy just barely taller than her with hair presumably gelled into the shape of a three-pronged star and eyes a deep, wise forest green that was decidedly at odds with the intense neon-quality of his blue/teal hair.

"Say hello TO YOUR GOD!"

"Shut up, Black Star, you number one imbecile! You're gonna freak her the fuck out!"

Oh, fuck.

The terrified blonde whipped her head (and her hair) back and forth as her eyes flickered between Boy One with white hair and sharp teeth and Boy Two with blue hair and star-shaped pupils.

And then…there were two.

She was so dumb. She was really dumb, fo' real.

Maka hadn't felt anything weird with Tsubaki today. It had been her insanity. She had just gone so far off the fucking deep end that she was becoming antisocial. She couldn't deal with real people. And, because she was so insanely lonely…her mind was making fucking imaginary friends.

It was around that time that Maka Albarn said goodbye to her messed up world and fainted.

Replies:

To Guest: I am extremely glad that you love it! And I can tell you right now I don't plan on giving up any of my stories, though this one especially will be finished if only cause I enjoy the setting way too much.

To DrOctadoctapus: I realllllllllllly love this too! I cannot describe how much fun writing this is. I usually have fun writing whatever story, even the more serious ones like FSaLiBH will be, but this is very relaxing and flowing. Probably cause I get to unleash my suppressed sarcasm. Thank you for the encouragement!

To GigiandMad: I originally had not thought of putting him in the suit, but it actually ends up working rather nicely so THANK YOU FOR THAT! The sole reason Soul is going to be (for most of the story) in his suit is BECAUSE OF YOU. So if anyone is excited about that, they should be thanking you and not me. Also, yes I would appreciate you being my beta (we'll talk via PM for the next episode I suppose) because any editing help is help I would be thankful to have. As for your questions on the move...take the implication for now. Who knows what we'll find out in time?

To all who follow/favorite: Thank you for your support! It means a lot! Review or don't review, it does not matter too much to me. I only hope that you all love the story. I apologize for any grammar/editing mistakes. It's just me looking over stuff for now.