Song Challenge.

Christ I'm hung over. This is probably one of the worst frames of mind to write anything ever, but maybe this will distract me from the fact that I appear to have swallowed a pair of live weasels, neither of whom can stand the other, while simultaneously drilling a couple of air holes in my temples.

Damn straight it was a good night.

Anyways, on my profile, a few of you might have noticed that I mentioned an attempt to write a song challenge. Well, this is round two. Let's rock. These are of wildly varying length and quality, but I enjoyed writing them.

--

Young Lust- Aerosmith.

For your consideration...

Sex.

He didn't get it, not really.

Well, not the act itself, when it came to that, he flattered himself that he was reasonably familiar with the procedure. More so than most, really.

But he didn't understand all the social stigma surrounding it. Or, at least, the way he went about it.

Most of his team mates didn't understand, and he (of course) couldn't find the words to explain to them. He'd learned not to let it bother him.

The point was, sex was, to many people, a spiritual, intimate, even (to some) an almost quasi-religious experience.

But to him, the main point was that it was fun. And he saw nothing wrong with enjoying himself sometimes.

It wasn't that he was a ladykiller (as some bizzarely labelled him, although they could never say it with a straight face anywhere near him). If she wasn't after the kind of relationship he was looking for, then that was fine. He would respect that. He wasn't some kind of sex-mad fiend.

It was just that he liked girls. In a fairly active way.

Robin had had words with him. He, of course, had done all the talking. It had been amusing to watch the normally fearless teenager skirting the issue, instead reminding him that whatever he did reflected back on the Titans as an organisation. His piece said, Robin had continued his inspection.

Jericho had shaken his head after him. Everyone over analysed these things.

Frankly, he wondered if people were just surprised he was straight. (1)

--

Exodus- Bob Marley.

Flying was a drug.

He had so many problems, so many things to think about, so many reasons he should be a worrying, nervous wreck.

But he couldn't bring himself to care. He was lost, tumbling, soaring, drinking in the adrenaline.

Every time he tried to focus on what he was trying to do, where he was going, why he was going, he would be distracted by the feel of the sun on his pinions, or the sudden exhileration of puncturing a cloudbank.

He had so many problems. So much he had to do, to plan.

They would keep until he touched land again.

--

Home- Foo Fighters.

Where was it? She didn't know.

It wasn't Tameran, that much was obvious. Sister Dearest had taken care of that.

So where?

It shouldn't have bothered her. She had wandered the galaxy for years, never stopping anywhere for long, just long enough to collect, by fair means or foul, whichever was easier, enough to keep moving.

But before, it had all been something of a game. There had always been her backup plan if everything went wrong.

People had claimed that she had 'conquered' Tameran. She liked the sound of that, especially since she had essentially conquered the planet solo. That had been quite the trick, or so it had seemed.

But really, it had been a bloodless coup. She had just turned up one day, and demanded the throne from Galfore. What could he have done? In the end, she was the And'r, no matter what the colour of her hair, or the date of her birth, and Galfore was just a caretaker of the throne.

Of course, then she had to go do something short-sighted and petty, like force her sister into an arranged marriage for something as base as a vendetta. Utterly typical of her.

With no company but the asteroids, she admitted to herself that she had gotten her comeuppance for that one.

But now, now there was nothing to go back to. She had her freedom, something she had always wished for, and here there was no one to judge her, not for anything. But all she wanted was to be home. Wherever that was.

Home is where the heart is, she thought to herself, echoing a phrase she had picked up from her short time on Earth.

Where was that? With her family?

What family, her paernts were dead, her sister had disowned her, and Galfore...

It was hard to tell what Galfore thought. He was bound by his oaths as a K'norfka, but apart from that?

No.

Blackfire shook her head and flew onwards, leaving nothing but a few drops or rain.

--

Wild One- Thin Lizzy.

Nightwing was able to keep his mind on the job, most days. Usually, his thoughts were free of memories of red hair and green eyes. But not all days, and on those days the criminals of Jump City knew pain.

He didn't sleep much- she turned up far too often in his dreams.

She always looked the same, in his mind's eye. Never did she appear as she was when she was at hom- the tower, sunny smiles and melodic voice.

No, he remembered her at her most beautiful to him. In the heat of battle, twisting through the air, strong and brave and utterly, utterly free.

Her hair fluttered after her in those moments, her eyes blazed, and she turned the battlefield into a stage. She would piruette, she would dance. But this was no ballet. It was primal, instinctive, and curiously savage. She was untamed. She was feirce. She was beautiful.

Then he would wake, and purge her face from his mind yet again.

--

Thank You For Loving Me- Bon Jovi.

I've never been a particularly spiritual person. Odd, you might think, but it's true. I've never been one to imagine that my life is guided by some greater power, for fear of finding out which higher power is running my life.

I think I've got a pretty good idea anyway. I know not thinking about it won't change things, but saying that and actually living according to the principle are very, very different things.

But here, at the end of everything, about to finally fulfill my destiny, I can't help but think about all that I've come to believe in.

Nothing so intangible as religion. All my belief is reserved for four people. All my thanks. All my...faith, I suppose.

I just wish I could say everything I need to. But there's no time, and they're not here, anyway.

Robin. You gave me strength. When things were at their bleakest, you always, always, had a plan, had a way to fix things, had the confidence that came from knowing what had to be done, and that you could do it. You were our leader, and I would have followed you into He- anywhere. You would have been a great man.

Starfire, you gave me kinship. You were unrelenting in your insistance that we would become friends, and if that meant you had to sit through hours of meditation and accompany me on my infrequent trips to those poetry readings you pretended not to despise, then that was a price you were prepared to pay. I didn't understand at first. I think I do now, and for that...thank you.

Cyborg. You, above all people, understood. You listened to me when I had to vent, you offered advice when you could (and you could, much more often than I think either of us expected), and you were just there, never judging, even when I said things that were (in retrospect) completely unjustified, or utterly asinine. I... will miss our talks. Assuming that I will still be able to miss things afterwards.

Beast Boy... you... you gave me hope. It sounds strange, I know, but you were so patient with me. You were the first person to actually try to get to know me, and I know at the time I didn't really appreciate it as much as I should, but I appreciate it now, as late as it undeniably is. You prodded and pried and were determined to find out everything you could about me (why? What made me so interesting? I guess I'll never know), and I was so scared about what would happen if you ever found out. Of course, when you did, you accepted it. Completely. I suppose I should have anticipated that, your whole character points to it, but I didn't. And you made me hope, just a little. Thanks, Beast Boy.

It's getting harder to concentrate now. He's too strong to keep out completely, and my perception is dulled.

I can still feel their pain, though. I know they can only forestall the inevitable. Sooner or later one of them will fall, then another, then all. There is nothing I or they can do.

There is one thing. I can spare them pain.

Goodbye.

--

(1)- Before anyone gets offended by that, it's simply referencing the fact that there was some question when the character of Jericho was being created as to whether or not he should be gay. Eventually, that idea was rejected as being "too much of a stereotype".

Well, this distracted me from my hangover, so I guess it did the trick. No idea if it's worth your time, though.