We aren't the damsels in distress.

Soul attempted to kick the disembodied voice away, but it grabbed onto his leg. "Oh, now is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"Since when are we friends?" Soul growled in his sleep, attempting again to kick away the voice. He wound up kicking it on its horned head.

"Come on now, you know how this works. It's a guidance type thing. You may not always like what I tell you, but I'm always right, yes?"

Soul pried an eye open. "I don't think 'right' is exactly the word for it." Soul stared at what the demon held in his hands. "The Hell? A guitar? You know I don't play guitar."

"Why not? You already play the piano. Isn't that the root of all things musical?"

"No, not really." Soul looked around the red-and-black checkerboard room. It was still decked out in gothic candles and curtains, but - "Where is the piano? It's not like you're doing anything, you could have rebuilt it by now."

"Not been doing anything?" he hissed. "In the past few nights I've been battling off this infection you gave me."

Soul neither knew nor cared what the he was talking about. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Soul sighed. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because of this" he thrust the guitar at him. "You should learn to play. I hear chicks dig it."

"’I hear chicks dig it?' How old are you anyway?"

"Old enough to know that you won't be young forever. You should get one of these chicks while you still can."

Soul rolled his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, I have somewhat more important things to deal with at the moment than you and whatever your angle is."

The demon shook his head in disappointment. "Come on, Soul. You know it'll make you more powerful. Didn't we go through this whole thing with the piano?"

"I'm not learning guitar. Besides, I can't use my Black Blood. I'm partnered with Kid. He couldn't even handle the Book of Eibon. He has a panic attack every time he looks down at the sidewalk. Who knows what infecting him with that stuff could do?"

"What makes you think I'd infect him with Black Blood?" he asked innocently.

"Uhm. Hello. Maka. Every time we perform Soul Resonance. And I do not want to see Kid in that dress."

"Why? Is it special to your girlie?"

Soul glared. He slowly and smoothly put the guitar behind his back, and swung it out like a bat, knocking the demon clear across the room. "Kid has chicken legs, Maka is not my girlfriend, and I'm going back to sleep."

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"I can't believe you're still awake at this hour." Maka rubbed at her eyes. She couldn't see the clock, but she supposed she wouldn't want to know the time anyway. It was well after midnight, but the Thompson sisters were still wide awake.

"We're used to Kid riding us hard all night," Liz apologized. Patty sniggerd at the invisible innuendo. Liz blushed and smacked Patty lightly over the back of the head.

"Well…" Maka started picking at the carpet. Why did it always look so dirty? "It's not like we can train at this hour."

"We haven't perfected Soul Resonance, and that's kind of important. Why don't we try that?" Maka groaned. Liz smirked; "Or we could play Truth or Dare?"

Maka grabbed one of each of the Thompson sisters' hands, muttering "Let's go, Soul Resonance".

The three found themselves in a wide, open library, not unlike the one at school. Maka looked around her, and then down at her hands. She was wearing the same dress that she wore whenever she visited Soul's room. "Well, that's interesting."

"What the Hell? Why do you get a pretty dress and I'm in this?" Liz looked like a librarian. There was no change to Patty's dress.

"Erm…I don't know."

"Well it's your head! Change it!"

"I don't think I can. And it's not my head, it's my soul."

"So what? In your deepest, darkest fantasies, I'm a librarian?"

"I've never even been here before!" She felt embarrassed, though she was sure this would be nothing compared to the kind of conversation she and Soul would be having if he were there. She could have run over it in her head, but her brain was too tired for her imagination to work properly.

"Oh well…I guess it worked then. So…." Liz smiled deviously. "Truth, or dare?"

Harry shuffled around the halls of Hogwarts, hands in his pockets, just days after the Yule Ball. Ron and Hermione were having yet another fight that Harry was trying to avoid being dragged into. He felt badly about the way he'd treated his date (though he couldn't remember which sister he'd gone with), having spent all night staring at Cho Chang.

Cho Chang, who had the perfect boyfriend and probably wouldn't go for Harry even if she didn't.

Harry sighed, looking around him. Life at Hogwarts was never exactly dull. Someone was out for his life – as per usual – he was failing potions (again, as per usual), and the weather was reflecting his mood…a sleet kind of rain that prevented his motivation from getting him down to Hagrid's hut. He couldn't stay in Gryffindor tower long enough to find his invisibility cloak and get out, so he was now slouching behind a column, pretending not to exist.

"What are you doing here?" One of the two sisters he and/or Ron had gone to the Yule Ball with was standing in front of him. Going by the sneer on her face at the sight of Harry, he'd guess it was his date.

"Oh, I'm just…hiding."

"Hiding?"

"From Ron and Hermione."

She lifted her nose. "Oh. He ignored my sister at the dance. May as well have just stood her up." Yup. Definitely his date.

"Yeah, sorry about that. He's kind of…confused."

"I'll say." She flipped a braid back behind her robes. Harry wondered why on Earth she was wearing her school uniform on a weekend. He didn't think it polite to ask.

"And…I'm sorry…I didn't ask you to dance. I really can't dance… I might've stepped on your foot."

To his great surprise, she smiled genuinely. "That's okay. I figured as much. That, and you couldn't keep your eyes off of Cho Chang."

Harry blushed deeply, unable to keep himself from cooing "yeah, she did look quite beautiful, didn't she?"

She looked horribly perturbed and offended. "Well, I never!"

Harry never really understood why she stormed off, but he guess that it might have had to do with the fact that he never told her half as much about herself at the dance. Hermione would probably smack him for this later.

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Harry remembered his flaw at the Yule Ball, and couldn't help connecting the moment then to the moment now. He couldn't stop staring at Ginny. He knew that he should be the one dancing with her, holding her closely, telling her how beautiful she looked…not that smarmy ex-boyfriend of hers. Who the Hell invited Dean Thomas anyway?

Harry kicked a stone on the ground with such force that it smacked the leg of a crotchety old witch at the nearest table, who promptly turned to glare at Harry. He shrugged sheepishly, trying to whistle aimlessly. He rocked from side to side, a million thoughts bursting through his mind at once. I should just forget about her. Just forget about her. Just forget about her? I can't just forget about her! She's the only girl I've ever felt this way about…

But he looked at the smile on Ginny's face, as Dean twirled her around, and he felt his blood boil. He thought that she loved him. She kissed him on his birthday. Was this just some sort of act to make him jealous?

He could see the same look on Fluer's face. As nausea-inducing as it was, Harry also found it…kind of sweet. Although on Hermione's face, it was sickening. (She was like a sister, and was dancing with Ron, who was like a brother.) Ron was going to get the girl in the end, they all must have known that. Ginny, if she ever even forgave Harry – was she even going to be alive? Was she going to be the least bit interested in him? What if she had moved on? What if Harry himself never survived…

Harry had started a nervous pacing, biting his lip and twirling his knotted fingers around one another, when Luna Lovegood, of all people, walked up to him.

"Oh, hello Harry. Is that a new kind of dance you're doing?"

"How did you –" Harry shook his head. This was Luna Lovegood, the girl who talked to trees, fed Thestrals, and believed in Nargles. Why was he even asking such a ridiculous question? "…I don't know, maybe in some places it is."

Luna looked over to where Ginny was standing. Ginny shot Luna a stare of complete animosity, as if warning Luna to keep away from Harry. Harry, feeling she had no right to talk - er, look - stood directly in front of Luna, outside of Ginny's eyesight.

"I suppose you still love her, then?" Luna was looking at the ground shyly. Her hands were behind her back and she was swaying to and fro. Her hair swished back and forth.

Taking this opportunity to improve on his social manners, Harry asked, "Would you care to dance, Luna?"

"Love to!" she took his hand lightly, leading him out to the dance floor. Harry was impressed with the strength that he felt, just through her fingertips. He was even more impressed when he found that she was also leading the dance. "I noticed that you weren't very good at this at the Yule Ball."

"Really? What, were you spying on me?" he joked. She smiled, but shook her head. Harry wondered why on Earth she wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"You were dancing in the middle, silly."

"Oh, yeah…that."

They remained silent for awhile. Harry was usually unnerved by the silence, as it usually meant that somebody was creeping up on him. But with Luna, it was a calming quiet, as opposed to an eerie quiet. He held her closer, putting his head on hers. Everything felt so calm and so peaceful. He wished it could be this way all the time. Why were things never this restful?

The dance ended, and it looked as though speeches about whatever it was speeches were normally about at weddings were getting ready to be made. Luna leaned up on her toes. She kissed him on the cheek. "I think I should go check on my dad now. I hope I'll hear from you…" she gave him a knowing look. "If you can. Be careful." Harry watched her walking away, missing the heartbroken glance from Ginny, standing moodily in the corner.

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Harry trumped through the wreckage that used to be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They'd managed to clear the bodies up, and their allies were discussing ways and times to rebuild the school. The teachers were trying to take care of the injured. Neville was surrounded by a horde of girls, and didn't really look like he knew how to take it. Ron and Hermione were cuddling in a corner, holding hands, and surrounded by Ron's family. Hermione was taking on the roll that Harry imagined Mrs. Weasley would play in any other situation – quieting everyone down and trying to console them all. Harry, although he thought of them as family, didn't think he could quite handle all the pain at the moment.

He slouched down to the lake, sitting cross-legged and watching the Giant Squid toss debris out of the lake. He couldn't hold it all in. All of the deaths, all of the destruction…he didn't even like his aunt and uncle, yet he couldn't help wondering where they were right now, and were they okay? Was Dudley any different now? Would he grow up to be as ignorant and fearful as his parents? What about Draco? His mother really loved him, what was she doing with someone like Lucious? Would Draco change? Was he ever really evil at all? How would Harry let everyone know the truth about Snape? Who would the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts now? And the thought that caught him most off-guard: Where was Luna?

"Hello," he turned to see Luna just standing there, as if she had read his mind. She looked dirtied and injured, but okay. She sat on the ground next to him. "I imagined you'd be here…to cool off…and maybe you'd like some quiet company…" she reached deep into her pockets. "And some candy."

Harry smiled. Oh Luna. You always know what to say."

"It's a gift." They both ate their candy in silence.

If they completely forgot about the war that had just been going on, it almost looked beautiful. The sun was sitting just on top of the hills, a soft pinkish glow making everything look calming and demure. Harry shook his head. "It's all so…weird." He laid back, staring at the trees.

"They look like they're smiling, don't they?" Luna asked dreamily. "I love the trees…they don't discriminate."

Harry didn't really care what she meant or what she was thinking. Her voice was making him forget about all the evil he had just encountered, and making him think about the trees. He just knew he was going to have weird dreams about trees dancing around and singing to him.

Or was that…Luna singing? She seemed to be humming a lullaby.

Harry laid on his side, breathing rhythmically. He could feel Luna laying close to him. Without thinking about it, he put his forehead next to hers, and kissed her softly on the nose. She didn't ask him anything. She took his hand in hers, and the two fell asleep, for the first time in several days.

Your face remains unchanged - impassive.

Izzat so?

We seem to be communicating telepathically.

That shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s always been that way. You do so much to yourself, yet I remain unchanged.

You cock your head. I cock mine too.

You’re the one who feels broken. You’re the one who hurls the insults. You’re the one who can’t stand the sight of me.

For a moment, I think you’re going to turn away, perhaps for the last time ever, only see glimpses of me.

Then, before I can react, your throw your fist, and I break into a million pieces.

There now, who’s broken?

You say, with a grin I can no longer reflect.

It may be my pieces.

But it’s still your blood on my broken mirror.

This doormat has a voice and uses it too much. Generally this doormat is greeted by secret and sometimes imaginary eyerolls from the suitcases and the pencils and sometimes even the tie, if it deems the mat worthy enough of its time. But the doormat still never stands up and learns to walk around, nor does it soul-jump to see what it might perhaps be like to be the pencil or the suitcase, nor does it dream what being a tie would be like.

And I don’t know how to carry on the metaphor. All I want to say is that from 5:30-6:25 on Wednesdays nights, I don’t feel like a doormat.

I don’t feel like an outsider.

I don’t feel like an enemy.

I don’t feel weird or anxious or unhappy or hated.

I actually have a nickname.

I actually have friends.

What I say and what I feel actually matters.

And for 55 minutes, I am a very happy person.

For 55 straight minutes, I smile.

For 55 minutes I am living my life, not just for myself but for other people too.

For 55 minutes, I matter to someone, somewhere.

For 55 minutes I am not depressed.

For 55 minutes I do not cry.

For 55 minutes I do not think of the past or worry about the future.

For 55 minutes I do not worry about my homework or projects or my roommate or my laundry or taking a shower. For 55 minutes of my life the only things I have to care about are food and the time. Sometimes one or the other isn’t even a problem.

For 55 minutes I do not feel awkward.

For 55 minutes I do not feel lonely.

For 55 minutes I am not alone.

The other 1, 385 minutes of the day I am pretending to be someone else. Someone happier or someone moodier or someone who isn’t real. But for 55 minutes of the day, I get to be myself. I get to be Erin Elisabeth Byrne. And I am never happier.

Maka couldn't take it anymore. She spun around, nearly knocking Soul over. "Fine, Soul! If that's how you feel, why don't you get somebody else to be your partner? Because I quit." Maka ran off in the opposite direction. Soul stood still, feeling rather confused. He blinked slowly, wondering. What just happened?

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Maka bit and chewed at her lips and her cheeks, trying to keep herself from crying, but she was failing. She balled up all of her energy into a fist and slammed it into a tree, making it explode - whether in reality or in her mind, she didn't know anymore. She screamed loudly and watched the birds above fly away. She sat down on the ground behind a park bench and reminded herself, "'It's not the size or the shape that matters'…yeah, right".

Maka sighed to herself, trying to plan out her next move. Where was she going to go? Who was she going to be partnered with? All of her friends already had partners. She couldn't go home; she knew Soul would be waiting for her, if he didn't find her here first. She hugged her knees to her chest. Why did she let him get to her like that? Most of the time she assumed he didn't mean half of the things that he said, that he just couldn't help it because he was a stupid boy, but it still hurt her feelings.

"Maka?" Maka shoved herself under the park bench and rolled to face the other direction. She closed her eyes and tried her best to remain silent and still. She heard footsteps fall right behind her.

"Shit. Fuck. Dammit. Good job, Soul." Soul muttered other things to himself that Maka couldn't understand, and kicked the wooden blocks surrounding the tree. They, too, made a loud noise similar to an explosion. Soul sighed and muttered, as he away, "How am I going to apologize for this?"

Maka waited a couple of minutes before prying herself out from under the bench and heading for her last resort destination: Her father's.

Maka couldn't exactly blame her father for being surprised when she showed up. She did, however, appreciate that he didn't ask many questions. Spirit just set up the couch for her to sleep on and asked if she weren't sure she didn't want to take his bed and have him sleep on the couch. Maka shook her head but thanked him, and kissed him goodnight on the cheek.

Maka could tell her father was worried about her, and She started preparing excuses for her behaviour in the morning. She couldn't think of anything believable.

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Maka stood in front of the bathroom mirror the next morning, staring at her reflection. She'd managed to find some of her mom's old stuff – things Spirit was supposed to have given back or thrown away after the divorce, but never did.

Maka took her time, carefully applying her mother's leftover makeup, doing her hair the way she was sure her mother would have done it, and trying to make her Spartoi uniform look more… like something Blair would wear (she felt both disgusted and relieved that Spirit had saved one of her mom's old push-up bras). Maka felt awkward looking at herself in the mirror. She couldn't decide if she looked older or younger, but she didn't feel any more mature this way.

Maka tried to walk normally up the stairs and to class, but she was finding it difficult to relax with everybody staring at her. Kilik's jaw actually dropped, Ox and Kim were throwing her concerned glances. It's just a little make up, she thought, why is everyone so freaked out? She continued to her locker, forgetting that he locker-neighbour may be a bit problematic.

"Where were you yester-" Soul began, but stopped in his sentence to stare at her, head cocked and mouth slightly ajar. Maka glared at him, trying to think of something witty to say, but nothing came to mind. "Maka," Soul asked tentatively, are you okay?"

"Never better," the words poured out of her mouth. She moved away before Soul could reach out and touch her.

Soul wondered if what he just saw was a figment of his imagination.

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Maka skipped lunch. She'd managed to avoid sitting next or talking to any of her usual friends, including Soul, all day, and she didn't want to break that record now. Instead, she wandered the hallways, looking for something she couldn't quite think of.

"Hey," a boy around Maka's age was leaning on a wall, leering at her, hands in his pockets. The boy came toward her, extending his hand. Maka couldn't remember his name, only that he'd never been kind to anyone in Spartoi. "I'm Jon," he said with a grin. Something about this experience was beginning to frighten Maka, and she pushed herself flat against the wall. "I'm glad I caught you without that freak of a partner of yours around."

"Soul isn't a freak," Maka muttered into her chest.

The boy, Jon, snorted out a laugh. "Oh, you're too kind," he paused to look around. "Where is he anyway?"

Maka avoided Jon's gaze. "I'm not sure."

Jon smiled. "Well, now that he's not here…" Jon inched closer toward her, and Maka froze up. "I was wondering…would you like to be my partner?"

Maka felt her heart jump. "Partner?"

"Yeah," Jon ran a hand through his hair, no longer quite as confident. "Me and some of the other guys have been wanting to ask you for some time, but every time we even started walking toward you, your boyfriend scared us away -"

"Wait," Maka blinked, sputtering. "What?"

"And when you didn't respond to anybody's letters, we figured we were dropping them in the wrong locker or something –"

"Wait a minute, what letters?" Maka felt her face go red, wondering if anything Jon was saying could really be true.

Jon gave her a genuine look of surprise, so that Maka would know he wasn't lying. "You mean you didn't know? Wow. I was figuring you were just being cold, and that maybe I could defrost you a bit," He smiled. "Doesn't mean I still can't defrost you… Now that you look like that and all…" He ran his lips over her cheek as he spoke. Maka felt sick.

"Jon. Please. Move away."

"Why?" he asked seductively; then, innocently, "Scythe-boy doesn't do this to you?"

"Jon, thank you for the offer, but –"

"But what? We all heard you screaming at him the other day. You need a new partner, and we would be unstoppable together."

"Please, Jon," Maka was now whispering. If somebody didn't find them soon...he clothes didn't allow room for any of the heavy books she usually carried and she'd left her heavy boots at home in favour of high-heels. "Back off."

"Oh, come on," Maka's head was turned to the so she wouldn't have to look at Jon, but she could hear the frustration in his voice, and felt it as his hand closed around her forearm, growling into her ear, "Lighten up."

"I believe the lady has politely asked you to move away" Jon and Maka both turned their heads to see Death the Kid pointing both Liz and Patty, in gun formation, at Jon's forehead. "You will move away from her or I will shoot you."

Jon sneered first at Kid and then at Maka, as if his sudden appearance was her fault. "Great. Shinigami's son always gets what he wants, doesn't he?" Jon leered at Maka once more. "See ya later, toots. We ain't done with this." Jon stalked off down the hallway.

"Toots? Seriously?" Liz scoffed. "This isn't some 1930's gangster movie. Who does he think he is?" Liz glared off at Jon as he walked away. Patty, entirely oblivious to the situation, just sat on the floor and giggled.

"Are you okay, Maka?" Kid used his thumb and forefinger to gently pull Maka's chin up, so she was facing him..

"Yeah, I'm fine," she responded. "Just embarrassed."

"Don't be," Kid said, helping her up. Maka looked around, not remembering having ever fallen to the floor. Kid brushed imaginary dirt off of her shoulders, probably to avoid contact. "But what I meant, though, was about the other day. What happened between you and Soul?"

Maka wanted to explain, but couldn't control herself. She spent the next five or so minutes in Kid's arms, crying, while Liz brushed her hair and Patty started making her a giraffe out of lint.

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Soul hadn't seen her since that morning, but he knew Maka usually came by the basketball court on her way home. Although that wasn't something he knew, more something he'd assumed because that was the way he always got home, without her. Soul kicked a rock from one end of the court to the other, thinking about how excruciatingly painful the next couple of hours were going to be, and tried to plan out the inevitable talk out in his head.

"Look, Maka," he said to the tree, "I'm sorry about everything." Soul paused, tilting his head. "No, no, that's too generic. How about, I'm sorry that I said you didn't have sex appeal, some guys like girls who look like you - God, no, that's too condescending. What's wrong with me?" Soul tugged at his hair and said to himself, "Shit. I'm screwed."

"You're a dick," someone yelled from across the court. A basketball made hard contact with the back of Soul's head. He turned around slowly to see Black Star staring at him, both hands on his hips.

"What the Hell, Black Star?" Black Star looked ready to start a fight as he brought his hands down from his hips, curling them into tight balls, his face pulled into the kind of permanent scowl usually reserved for his spats with Kid. Soul stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back a bit to show that whatever it was, he didn't want to fight with his best friend over it. "You're a real douche, you know that?"

"No," Soul said nonchalantly. "What did I do?"

"Oh, please," Black Star snorted. He walked over to Soul, standing close enough that Soul could barely look into Black Star's eyes without his own going crossed. "Just be glad it's me, and not Tsubaki. She's about ready to tear your throat out. How could you say such a thing to Maka?"

Soul rolled his eyes. "You're a real perv. One day she wears make up and suddenly you're in love with her? Besides, we all say things like that to her, same way you make fun of Kid for being Prissy and Liz for being a flirt."

"In love with her? No, thanks. She's not my type, and I've already got a girlfriend." Black Star's hands unclenched a little, but he didn't back away from Soul. "And it's different if I say that to her. We've known each other since we were kids, so for us that's like a sibling rivalry. But you're her partner, and she has to know she can trust you. With everything." Soul felt his stomach drop. "People call me stupid. Sure, I'm not good at school like Ox or Maka. I don't have deep insight like Kid or Kilik. I can't take care of people like Kim. You could, if you actually tried, be good at any one of those things, you know –"

"Get to the point, Black Star" The longer Soul was held up, the more anxious he felt about Maka's condition.

"My point is that, even you have called me stupid; but I'm not the one who turned into a flat-chested, snobby, know-it-all girl in a Spartoi uniform in the Book of Eibon's Lust Chapter, and then preceded to tell the same damn girl that she didn't have sex appeal." Soul blushed and wondered if that really what he looked like. "You can either apologize to her, or get the Hell out of the group."

Black Star turned around to head the opposite direction, but stopped for a moment, turned back to Soul, and said, "I beat the shit out of Mifune and half of the members of Arachnophobia when Maka became paralyzed. I beat the shit out of Crona when we found him again for betraying Maka. Don't think that, because you're my best friend, I won't beat the shit out of you for breaking her heart." Black Star punched the brick wall to emphasize his point, and stalked off.

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Upon reaching his and Maka’s apartment, Soul was greeted with a slap to the back of the head by an unseen assailant. "Would people please quit hitting me!" he begged, arms draped over his head for protection.

"NO!" The voice replied. At first, Soul thought it was Maka. Hoped, even, that it was Maka, that they could get this conversation over with and return to some semblence of normalcy. "Blair is very upset with you! How could you treat Maka like that?" Blair hit him on the back of the head again. "Baka! Stupid boy!"

"Look," Soul shouted. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say it, it just kind of…came out."

Blair glared at Soul, a look of obvious disbelief on her face. "Well, no food for Soul until he apologizes!" Soul grumbled, but made no real protest.

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The members of Spartoi gathered around Sid and Nygus as they relayed the instructions of their mission out loud. It was just a practice drill for fighting in extreme weather, but it was still pretty dangerous. Everybody split up into their own partnerships and went in their separate directions. Maka, who was still dressed to the nines, refused to look at Soul. Soul grimaced; he'd been trivially hoping they'd be past it by now. "Maka, please. Talk to me."

"Why should I?" Maka snapped over her shoulder.

"Because I'm your partner," Soul reasoned dumbly.

"That didn't stop you from telling Medusa information that you withheld from me," Soul could hear the sneer in her words, and the hurt.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you worrying about me. And that happened like a year ago! How long are you going to stay mad at me for that?"

Maka didn't answer. The two walked in silence until they hit the end of their section – a wet, stalactite- and stalagmite-filled cave. They both could feel something underground vibrating, about to shoot up. They weren't given any information on the kind of being they'd be battling, but 'practice' did not mean that Shibusen was going to slack off on amount of danger it would put its students in.

Alright, Soul thought. Maybe once we get into this battle, she'll forget that she's mad at me. Soul reached his hand out to take her. "Come on. We need to be prepared for when it gets here." Maka shook her head at him in response, but still wouldn't look at him. "What, you're not even gonna use me to fight? How are you going to fight this thing?"

"I'm not going to," she said finally, looking at Soul with an odd look he couldn't read.

"What?" Soul shouted. "Have you gone crazy? You're going to be killed!"

"Why do you care?" Maka attempted a deadpan, but failed. Soul could feel her anger seeping through with his soul's wavelength. Thank Shinigami, he thought. We're not completely broken yet. "I'm not sexy enough, remember?" Maka's harsh tone broke his thoughts up. "Or cool enough." Soul became increasingly uncomfortable as he realized Maka was about to start crying. "You'd rather be working with Ox or Kilik or Blair or that creepy girl who stalks you everywhere!" Or, that she'd already started.

"What?" Soul spluttered. Maka looked at him expectantly, but he couldn't think of anything to put in the place of all the things Maka had just said. It was why he usually kept his mouth shut and did whatever she told him to do. "No I wouldn't. Who told you that?"

"You did!" she shouted. "Every time that you mocked me because I'm not pretty! Because I'm not cool! Because I'm not sexy and I don't have big boobs and I'm not strong! Why did you bother sticking with me for so long if you couldn't stand me so much?" Maka lost all sense composure. Combined with the shaking of the cave and her anger, she fell to her knees, sobbing. Soul felt both guilty and confused. "I can't understand you," she continued. "I read all the books in the library about music and I still don't get it. I try to be cool and I look like an idiot. I try to be sexy and people just act creepy around me. I don't know what to do anymore."

Soul crouched down to her level. "You really are an idiot." Before Maka could protest, Soul grabbed her shoulders and kissed her forcefully to shut her up. "I tell you you've got no sex appeal because I don't know how to talk to you, or how to respond to some of the ridiculous things you say, and so other weapons don't try to steal my meister from me." Maka was blushing heavily, lightly smiling, and avoiding Soul's eyes by examining his cheekbones. "I've been scaring guys off since the exam results last year. And for the record, I never said you weren't strong. I just didn't understand your sudden urge to protect me. It's my job to protect you. That's what weapons do. And all that other stuff is just unimportant. But I'm a guy. I don't mean half the things I say." Soul shifted uncomfortably under Maka's gaze. She still didn't look convinced. "Listen," Soul started again, looking around. "I'll…I dunno…bite you or something if you tell anyone I told you this first, but I love you."

Maka hiccupped. "You don't love me, you don't even like me."

He slammed her shoulders against the cave wall and kissed her again. "Don't be ridiculous, and don't make me repeat myself again: I love you. Now get the Hell up. We can't let Black Star outdo us on this assignment." Soul stood up and offered Maka his hand. She smiled and took it.

I’d also like to point out that the idea that he has to be dark-skinned in order to be ethnically Indian - which they never fucking brought into this movie - is also racist. You don’t have to be black to be African, and being black doesn’t mean that you are African. Expecting a character named Khan to be dark-skinned is no less racist than expecting a character named Ashley to be white. Judging a character’s race or ethnicity based on their colour or name is inherently racist. This is also an alternate reality. Ricardo Maltoban’s Khan still exists, and new-Khan’s backstory is different. They do have something in common: eloquent speech, and frankly I think that’s why Cumberbatch was cast as Khan. Listen to their voices, how compelling and smooth they are. Star Trek takes place in a time after religion, so why are we insisting that it takes place in a time where race-by-colour is still recognized? Suzanne Collins stated that her Hunger Games takes place at a point in time where race is no longer recognized. Why can’t Star Trek be the same?

As far as a lack of women on the Enterprise? Yeah, okay, that bothers me too. But that is not of JJ Abrams’ doing. He did not write the fucking screenplay, nor did he create the original Star Trek crew. Other Star Treks are guilty of the same lack of gender diversity, or am I think only one who watched Enterprise, which only had Hoshi and T’Pol - neither of which, mind you, was quick to break away from some female stereotypes. If you want to bitch at someone, bitch at the person who did the casting and wrote the script. The faults of the movie do not lay solely on Benedict Cumberbatch or JJ Abrams. Some of the fault has to go to Gene Roddenberry, Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, Damon Lindelof, April Webster, and Alyssa Weisberg.

Also, can we just take a moment to appreciate what total badasses Nyota Uhura and Carol Marcus are? Uhura could probably command the ship if she wanted to, but she doesn’t fucking want to. She has a passion for languages, so that’s what she did. When she takes control and goes out to speak to the Klingons, neither Spock nor Kirk interferes until they see that she’s in danger because they know she’ll kick their asses if they do. And Carol Marcus? She saved Bones’ life and refused to be taken away from a dangerous situation because she knew she could handle it (and clearly this person didn’t see the movie because it was a torpedo, not a bomb, and Bones doesn’t hit on her while she’s diffusing it but while they’re still safely off-loading the thing and Kirk tells him to knock it off). Carol blows him off and she isn’t prudish about her body. She doesn’t give a fuck about who’s running the Enterprise, she boarded the ship to figure out what her father was up to and when her father doesn’t treat her with respect, she motherfucking slaps him. But it’s a complicated relationship - he’s her father and she loves him, even if he is an asshole. Saying that her relationship to her father is her most important role in the movie is sexist of you; she’s a motherfucking science officer and a really good one, too. Her most important role in the movie is her understanding of the torpedoes. She and Uhura are both strong and independent women. Yeah, the scenes of women in their underwear is fanservice, but so was Taylor Lautner being shirtless 90% of the time during the Twilight movies. JJ Abrams didn’t create fanservice. 

Oh, and I’ve seen this movie twice. Horny teenage boys? No, the people in the theaters were college-aged or older men and women. My friends and I are 20 and we were the youngest people in the theater at midnight, and every single person there with us - save one of our friends - is a classic Trek fan. So not appealing to original Star Trek fans? Speak for your fucking self, thanks.