What would your fave character say once transported into another dimension?



Hello..uhm.... Would you mind terribly if I passed out right now?--Hotaru



Where the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you? Why the fuck am I in my underwear? How the fuck did I get here? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON! WHY THE FUCK DID HE HUG MY HEAD?--Duo



I hate this! Everyone just sits around looking cryptic and never EXPLAINS anything. Yeah, so will anyone care to elaborate on THIS week's apocalypse? --Buffy



Dammit! Not again!-- Trunks

How are these gonna work? Wait and see!

Lost Ones

By: Random Artemis



Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing at all except my laptop, Steve, and my crapmobile , Roxy, and I'll fight to the death for either of them! C/C PLEEEEEEEAASE! If anyone wants to edit, or has a story idea, please e-mail me at cath_6@hotmail.com





Harry winced slightly as his scar throbbed painfully in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. Again. "Please!" He thought desperately, "Please, make it stop! Stop him! I don't want to do this again! Please not again! Make it stop! Someone...Anyone...HELP ME!!!"

He continued to writhe painfully, not-quite-so-blissfully unaware of the bright green light streaking across the cosmos to strike the great dimension matrix. Upon reaching the matrix, it splintered and split into many different colors and energies, each traveling along one of the many roads to a new dimension. Purple, red, black, and gold, they went their separate ways, knowing (if a beam of mental energy is sentient that is) that it wouldn't be too long before they would be whole again. If anyone had been watching at that moment, they would have been struck by the eerie resemblance to a certain pink floyd album cover, but there wasn't because the gatekeeper was on his/her annual trip to Cuba.



Purple:

Everyone asks :Why me? Every once in a while. Yeah, that's normal right? What I don't understand is why I have to ask it every five minutes. The main reasons for this self-questioning were both sitting across the cafeteria from me. Josh and Sara. My crush and my arch nemises. I sighed dejectedly and brushed my short hair back out of my face, wincing slightly as my hand hit a sensitive portion of my skull. I fingered it gently under my hair and wondered if anyone would notice a purple glow radiating from my hand for a few minutes. Hmm, I decided in disappointment, No, I'd really better not.

They had thought it was SOOO funny, yeah let's hide a bloody cow's heart in the weirdo witch Hotaru's locker. Reeeeally fucking hilarious Sara. Har de fucking har har. It was even funnier how she screamed and fell backwards, cutting her head on another locker door. Well, on the bright side, at least the bleeding had stopped.

I sat all alone at in the obscenely crowded cafeteria, an entire table to myself. I wasn't sure, but I think this defied the laws of physics somehow.

The popular table, where Josh and Sara are sitting, suddenly bursts into laughter. Sara is performing a re-enactment of my humiliation this morning. Josh is rolling on the floor and clutching his sides. He can hardly breathe he is laughing so hard. I will not cry. I won't.

I have the senshi right? No not really. I don't have anyone I can really call a friend. I mean. All my relationships there are based on surrogate parents or elder sisters. I love them with all my heart, and would trade my life in if it meant theirs in a moment, but it's not the same. I'd like to say that this happened just recently, in soon enough be back there, sitting right beside Josh and Sara, but sadly, I've always been this way. The freaky little witch. They used to hate me, now they just make fun of me. It's hard to believe but it hurts even more that way. In fact, the only friend I've ever had was the daughter of the leader of our superhero team from the future. Normal? Why yes! In every way.

So that's it, no friends, a family of odd relationships with people who have distressing tendancies of dying on you (though they're always re-incarnated), a pain-filled past that no one would believe, even if I told it, and destined future I can't escape. It's not that bad, but it's lonely. So damn lonely. And it'll always be this way, and no one will ever know.

So I sit here, calmly eating my lunch. I'm not crying. I'm not.





Black:

They say there are only two certainties in life; death and taxes. For me there's a third. After all the fighting is done and as hard as I try and struggle against fate, I always end up alone again.

I heard once that the way of avoiding death in a war is to bring it swiftly and en masse to others. That way, on the battlefield, death sees you are doing his job for him and thus ignores you because you are helping his cause. I think my entire life has been that battlefield. I never meant to cause the deaths of others, but they always seemed to happen everywhere I went.

The plague on L2, the maxwell church massacre, both dark shadows of my past, indiscriminate slaughters that wiped out anyone to come into contact with them. Except me. Never me.

Even with the curse of survival that some call a blessing, (is it truly a blessing to always be the one left over to pick up the pieces?) I never expected to survive the war. Neither did my compatriots (who would all stare in gape jawed shock that I can spell a word as long as compatriots, let alone know what it means, of use it causally while thinking). It seems they have curses of their own. Quatre, the gentle soul who felt each death he caused deep in his soul, those deaths caused scars that still pain him under that happy exterior. He never told any of us, or asked for help, but he still cries for them at night. Trowa, the silent, nameless boy, beaten down by the world, cursed to be reminded of his painful past every time someone spoke his name. Wufei, who cannot let go of the memory of his first love, and lives in shadows of the past with her ghost. He is fading, slowly, now that he no longer has even his gundam, his 'nataku' to honor her. Heero, who cannot die no matter how many times he's tried. His curse is in coldness, any emotion he had has been long since beaten out of him. War was his reason to live, his usefulness, is gone and over. He can now have a normal life, though all normalcy has long since fled amongst peace treaties.

And then there's me. The one who hides beneath cheery smiles and practical jokes. I used to be able to fool myself that that me was real, the mask had briefly come to life. The past, however does not let itself by forgotten and smoothed over so easily.

Hilde died two months ago in an accident at our scrap yard. I was angry, but now I just miss her. I miss her so much. The expression I used to wear in private is returning more and more often. It lingers in the back of my eyes, even when I'm wearing my mask. It is the hardened expression of a loner. The haunted look that says that when all is said and done, it will once again be left alone, all alone. It scares me.