AN: I had to write fiction for a school assignment today, and when I was taking a break, listening to my MP3 player, the deritus just became these one-shots, fueled by the song that happened to flip on. You don't have to know the music to understand the emotion, but this was just how I interpreted the mood and the tempo of the music. Weird, yes; artful, maybe. You decide.
I read a GaaraMatsuri fic that was fashioned like this (only it had varying genres and was awesome-beyond-belief), so yeah. I'm hoping to approach that. As the title says, I'm going to try for one hundred (nine first chapter, ten each chapter after, and a big fat one-shot at the end to reward the readers for enduring all of this)
Hot coal dancers in the night; their shadows long against the wall, shifting with the fire. He clutches the smoldering ash against his age-worn palm; their world is in the traipsings of the dark, nightmares cast where they are but two more figures walking through fire and pretending that they're not burning. How do you dream in a night like this? How do you think about anything but the ageless inferno, or even learn to dance for joy on top of an ashen, burning world?
He crushes the black against his hand, savoring the bite and calling forth the fire in himself to assuage the molten ground; he'd walk across anything, if it meant being by her side.
The Beatles: Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
Lee isn't much in touch with the inconcrete. He can't describe abstract feelings to save his life, or recall fever dreams where he comes closest to realizing the truest utterances of his heart. He isn't sure how to name something that's too old in him to have words; he doesn't know how to bring this feeling out of his overheated brain and into his dry mouth, as she tilts a paper cup of water and pours liquid mercy down his parched throat.
Even if he weren't kite-high on pain medication and infected blood, Lee could never articulate how much he loves her for the simple miracle of being there.
Yui: Houki Boshi
She watches it for a moment; a moment longer, and shakes her head. Nope, she's still not sure what it's supposed to be.
She wants to say he is dancing, but she cannot; he is gyrating and pausing in a way that, at least to him, must have some part in the art of a rythmn; wailing in a parody of the female voice, he is gesturing, fingers opening on blank air, eyes sealed. He's communing with something beyond their understanding as mere, limbed humans. Everyone, faultless, has some kind of reaction to the communion of beat and sound, lyrics; it is inscribed on our bones, inside the hearts of cells that control every minute, fickle process that makes us alive.
Lee is doing the most natural thing a person can across the kitchen… His individuality, as ever, is just slightly less dissolved than that of normal, non-spandex minded beings.
All Sakura can do is laugh; slide across the quiet floor in her socks and meld to the curve of his warm, twisting back. She might be able to show him how to catch a beat, but he alone can teach her how to feel music.
High and Mighty Color: DTechnoLife
The first pain you caused me was…not quite appropriate to mention, but unintentional. I can forgive it because it was accompanied with a breath of purpose that almost hurt to feel breathing through me, breathing a new me into existence. I didn't immediately chase you down after Sasuke and I met; the first pain you gave me was this lump in my groin and my heart, when you turned your head and the poetry in even that small gesture just struck me.
The first real wound you gave me was the complete and utter reversal of my emotions reflected in your eyes when I finally calmed down and was able to make introductions. I couldn't have discerned shallowness from my vantage point, behind the sticky-concrete corner; I couldn't know what an incredible bitch you were going to be: immature, self-absorbed, as weak and helpless in every aspect as a pampered kitten.
If I could have seen those parts of you, I think I never would have given over to chasing you down; no man in his right mind would have. It's a good thing the heart speaks first, isn't it- that it's stronger than sense, reality, and what you know is right? It's a good thing that the sweetness buried in that you reached out to me through that first, painful gaze; that I saw the kitten before I felt those claws for the first time.
I'm so glad, pinned to the concrete floor of this Forest where death is ethereal and gaseous, my ears bleeding for you; breathing what feels like my last, fiery gasps, that you hurt me, Sakura. I've known my share of pain in this life…but for once, this sadism has a definite goal. If you endure the small scratches, eventually that kitten will learn to put it's frightened defenses down- and then you can go on hurting me every day in the small, beautiful ways that I fell in love with you for.
The Fray: Never Say Never
Naruto is not alright, Naruto is not alright-
Drops; fat slashes in the brown grass, almost blending in- not enough, not enough, Naruto is not alright you keep saying, until I want to slap you, take out all of the coiled dragon-rage that's suddenly swimming in my chest. You're a medic, I'm a Jounin, and the world keeps spinning- even when we find tattered scraps of cloak, blonde hair with white-shocked roots.
One tooth… two teeth. The world keeps spinning, right under our feet no matter how tragically late you learn to appreciate people.
Fingers; Naruto is not alright. Medic down; screams that frighten blackbirds, chasing the invisible path of souls, maydaymayday. Dying dragons, crossed in battle, in my ribcage in tune to your shrill sobs. You're alright, you're alright. He's gone, but I'm here-
Why is this so hard?
Our minds, looping in denial, are the worst enemies because we already trust them implicitly. We can make ourselves believe anything, and some lifeless felon made of different atoms than the rest of us laughs in omnipresent joy to watch our broken-paddle-boat circles around what we want to give in to. How do we give this entity- our engorged selves- the power to choose our paths in blatant contradiction of sense, of what our souls know is right?
Why was it so hard for me to believe, for all of those years, in the goodness of heart that I could see in you, as plain as day?
Youhna: Orenji No Hatsukoi
"I want to, really."
"But Sakura, it stinks-" Lee continued concernedly. The absolute worry in his eyes implied that she was about to rappel down into blackness from a string of dental floss. The concern ricocheted off of the absolute confidence of her every move, off of her shoulders as she shrugged her small form into the bags and folds of his navy Chuunin uniform shirt.
"Baka…" Sakura murmured, eyes crimping as she searched for obsidian in the velvet night. She smiled when their eyes met, fixated him with it as she closed the gap between his lanky chest and her own flinching heart. "I need to get used to your 'stink', if I'm going to invite you inside to help take this off..."
Ryan Cabrera: On The Way Down
I remember the moment they merged, and the moment that they stopped.
Salt, hair; your head pillowed against my neck, I listened in the dark and heard our heartbeats thrum, rush in the stars- and then, like a miracle, sync.
I checked it again, the next night. Again on the night you slept off the chakra pills in that rainy cave, propped as still as death against me save for that marvelous sound; in the sterile, paper-taste of the scrubbed-linoleum of the hospital, I put our daughter to my chest and my ear to yours, listening. Every time I found you, like a pile of tousled pink, reposed on a gurney because you didn't come home from the work that has defined you, or sprawled across the bed in mid-afternoon, the baby asleep in a pill-bug shape in the snug of your arm – I checked.
The day that you died, too- under the hail of rain that felt like acidic sleet, as our teammates clawed up from the mud of the Earth Country, as I screamed for Shizune and clamped the unbelievable give of your spraying arm. I listened to the medic-ninja's gooey footfalls, listened to the endless, maddening rain pattering down your skin, and I heard your heart stop on me. I heard it stop on our daughter, on the life that I had fought to protect for us.
Cheek against your ribs, I gripped your white arms until Shizune jolted the will back into your body- and wouldn't you know it, our hearts skipped beats at exactly the same times?
National Catharsis: Silly-Go-Round
Take my hand. We don't have all day…
The end has been coming since the beginning, and we can't get out; we can't get out, cried the schitzophrenic starling. This isn't a poem, this isn't the epic of Lee and Sakura; we won't get a Cardcaptor Sakura ending, or the romance and indignity of a Romeo and Juliet one; we aren't promised tomorrow, let alone the time to twaddle with feelings. I wasted a lot of time beating my wings against the wires, searching with beady bird-eyes for some painless way, some happy ending for all of us. The world we cannot see does not exist, I've decided; the unknown is the dead, the little-girl dreams that I couldn't swallow in order to kill him as chaff in the wind, lost food.
Take my hand; take my hand, take my hand, like I was too blind to all those years ago, crazed by the maybe-presence of a life with a boy who never loved in his life. Swallow the black; please remember what was worth loving about me when we were growing up, and take back this foolish, battered little bird into your solidity of promise. I'm ready to love you, if it's not too late for this little bird.
At least my dog loves me...