Warnings- crossover (sort of), shounen-ai, yaoi?, shoujo-ai, weirdness
Disclaimers- What belongs to me belongs to me. What doesn't, doesn't. I never claimed it did. Wished? Certainly. But never claimed.
Pairings- 1+2/1x2x1, 3+4, R+D, 5+S, 5xM (am I traditional or what? though I actually prefer R+H to R+D)
This is a crossover/fusion. But it's allllll mine!! whahaha!! Well, actually, my best friend and mine's, but the original story concept was mine, all mine. We're doing a manga similar to, but not exactly like this. She draws, (cause she's better ><) and I write and motivate. A regular two-person CLAMP, ne? Not exactly. But it's nice to dream. In any case, it's about the only semi-interesting thing I've ever come up with, so I figure, what the hey, I might as well recycle it. ^_^ And to make it even better, it's Shi-chan's! Cause it's her birthday soon!
And the title, well, it doesn't belong to me. I got it from somewhere. Do you know where? If you do, I'll write you a fic or draw you something. Whichever terrifies you less. But if you choose the pic, it might take a while, since (as I'm sure everyone that talks to me over AIM knows all too well) my scanner's brokie. It no work no more. *sniffle* but as soon as it is fixed, an influx of piccies from me will be coming your poor, unsuspecting way. Yes. Anyway...
Happy B-day Lil*Shinigami!
(oh yeah, this is reeeaaally happy)
And the Way It Leaves Them
Dorothy stared out her window at the faint streaks in the sky. The streetlamps and city lights made it hard to see the meteors, but it didn't matter much to her anyway. She was only watching because she had nothing better to do. Sure, she was single, attractive, very available, etc. And yet, here she was, alone on a Saturday night, looking at some boring shooting stars.
The TV was on in the next room, irritating her with its drone. But, truth be told, she didn't want to leave the window to turn it off. It wasn't that she was lazy, but the sky and its pinpoints of light were actually kind of pretty now that she thought about it, so she simply put up with the annoyance.
The minutes dragged by in contentment save the background noise. Then all of a sudden, the noise stopped. For a moment she was relieved; she wouldn't have to get up or be irked at it after all. But she wasn't stupid by any means, and it didn't take her very long to realize that there wasn't anyone else in her apartment to turn it off for her. Or at least, she hoped there was no one else in her apartment.
She stepped away from her window seat and treaded lightly into her living room. The television was definitely off. It wasn't just a silent commercial.
"Hello?" she asked softly. Dorothy wasn't timid, but an intruder in her home was more than enough to make her wary. She took a few more small, quiet steps.
The lights in her apartment went out suddenly and she screamed. She grabbed the nearest heavy object -a lamppost- and held it out menacingly. The adrenaline in her veins gave her the strength to weald it as though the lamp were made of styrofoam. She backed up against the wall and shouted out in the darkness, "Try and hurt me, and I swear I will bash your fucking head in!"
No one answered, and she stood against the wall, her head looking wildly side to side for any other signs of the intruder. Her breath came in short, fearful gasps. The light of the city streamed in through the window, casting a sharp, garish glow on her furniture and invading harshly into her steel blue eyes.
The young woman reached slowly for the phone on her end table, hoping to call 911, or anyone at all that could help her, when the neon blue glow suddenly disappeared from the window and the room was instantly blacker than anything she could remember having seen before. She screamed again, high and terrified, and forgot about the phone. The girl heard squeals of tires and crunching metal outside as car after car ran into each other and unyeilding walls.
She ran to the window, wanting to see what was happening against all reason. It was pitch black, she had someone in her apartment, and she knew she would never want to see how horrible the wrecks were. But she ran towards the window anyway. Halfway there, she tripped on a chair leg in the darkness, hitting her forehead on the ground with a loud crack. She was trying to pick herself up when she felt and heard, but didn't see, a pair of heavy legs running by. She punched at the legs clumsily and the intruder went down with a thud and a deep cry that proved he was male. She knocked the back of his head with her two clenched fists and squeezed his pressure point, not allowing the stunned man any time to fight back, until he lost consciousness.
She picked herself off the ground in a panic, and ran to the window with no rational idea of what to do. She could call for help, but no one would listen, being too engrossed in his or her own nightmares.
She threw open her window and looked out into the night. Her eyes were adjusted slightly, and she could see people running through the street, and hear them screaming and terrible hysterical laugher. She thought she saw a red-orange glow from around the corner where, perhaps, two cars had hit and exploded.
All of a sudden, she had the urge to look towards the sky, maybe in prayer, though she had never been religious. In the sky were three things she couldn't understand. They weren't flying saucers, and they were peaceful, but couldn't fathom what they were. She stared at them, finding comfort in their light for a moment out of her terror.
Then it was shattered, and coming into sight over another building, was something else entirely. Like the other three, but a twisted parody. Demented and horrible.
For the third time, Dorothy opened her mouth wide and a shrill scream vibrated past her lips into the night. Her voice blended with thousands of shouts and screams from the people below her window. And this time, she screamed louder and longer than the times before, and she couldn't seem to stop, but simply kept screaming, until her vision was blocked by the brightest light she had ever seen, which must have been something like the sun, and her wall facing the street below exploded with an enormous force. The girl was picked up off her feet and slammed against the back wall of her apartment, along with the intruder from before, who had blood running unstemmed down the side of his face. A gale force wind blew past her and into the wall, pinning her there, while the intense light blinded her vision and made everything harsh and monochromatic.
Then the wind stopped and the light dimmed, and Dorothy slid down her wall, unconscious. After a moment, a small tabletop broke off its legs, which were embedded into the wall, and fell on the unresponsive girl with what would have been a sickening crack, had anybody been around to be sickened by the noise.