I really liked the list of 100 themes by Seito and Psyrien, exclusive to menewsha, as far as I can tell. :3

To explore a Naruto character created purely for a closed RP, this set of 100 drabbles is dedicated to her:

Name: Mine (pronounced me-nay)
Nickname: Otonashi ("No Sound")
Village: Sunagakure/ Village of Hidden Sand
Age: 16
Sex: Female

Jinchuuriki (demon-carrier) to Shukaku, set long after Naruto's time.

She often has a serious face. She wants to be a better shinobi than she is- it's not nearly enough. She is no prodigy, and mastering Shukaku's power is hard for her. She was raised to become the village's protector, not a weapon (the village learned from its mistake, after Gaara), but after Shukaku began entering her mind, she went insane and mangled her own ears, trying to stop his voice. As a result she is deaf and now considered a liability to the village. Shamed by her weakness and her loss of being a protector-figure to the village, Mine is bitter and secretly unsure of where she stands. She tries to hold onto her pride by acting like an excellent shinobi. She picks fights to distract herself from her failure as well as Shukaku's voice, which almost never stops in her head.

Appearance: Strawberry-blonde shoulder-length hair, brown eyes, wears murky green drawstring pants, a wraparound dark blue top, and a gray jacket over it.

http://www.menewsha.com/viewtopic.php?p=292243#292243
More information +pictures (intro post to the closed rpg)
http://www.menewsha.com/viewtopic.php?p=378004#378004
First post, introducing her character.
http://www.menewsha.com/viewtopic.php?p=752069#752069
Second


Please, feel free to comment and give me ANY kind of criticism (Note: Flames do not equal criticism XD)- doesn't even have to be grammatical. Just pick the wording apart to your own personal tastes. I want to know everything. *_*

Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me in any way. No profit is being made.

Using: 100 Themes, by Seito and Psyrien.

http://community.livejournal.com/to_...pired/332.html

1. Bite
2. Green Pen
3. First Flower
4. A Beautiful Day
5. Water [ X ]
6. Jars
7. Buttons
8. Silence
9. Trash
10. Chain
11. Rain of blossoms
12. Chapstick/lip balm [ X ]
13. Cards
14. Quiz
15. Fans
16. Fish
17. Smile
18. Chocolate
19. Scissors
20. Pillows
21. Jacket/Blanket
22. Glare
23. Jealousy
24. Misunderstood
25. Holiday
26. Bell
27. Dog
28. Bridge
29. Minute
30. Flying
31. Bird
32. Cloud
33. Umbrella
34. Snow
35. Singing
36. Square
37. Curtain
38. Popular
39. Rubbish
40. Jellyfish
41. Circle
42. Matches
43. Deception
44. Paper
45. Heart
46. Color
47. Moonlight
48. Death
49. Candle
50. 50%
51. Obsessive Compulsive
52. Technology Challenged [ X ]
53. Lurk
54. Stalk
55. Doom
56. Butterfly
57. Check
58. Make up
59. I feel pretty
60. Clock
61. Midnight
62. Cocoa
63. Tinsel
64. Spiffy
65. Spilled Ink
66. Paw prints
67. Cute
68. Mess
69. I’m coming
70. Late
71. Missed
72. Spellcheck
73. Mail
74. Tied up
75. Nails
76. Small terror
77. Spider
78. Wine/champagne
79. Cross-dressing [ X ]
80. Instruction Manual
81. Confetti
82. Glitter
83. Shiny objects
84. Rebirth
85. Marbles
86. Lamp post
87. Charcoal
88. Markers
89. Scribbling
90. Board games
91. Love
92. Sibling
93. Coffee
94. Sticky
95. Sweet
96. Sour
97. Hyper
98. Apathy & Empathy
99. Lost cell phone
100. Happily Ever After

[ X ] = completed.

100 Themes: 79. cross-dressing

“You look like, what. The fifth Kazekage.”

It was a mission, and in order to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, Mine had taken off her bulky headphones and wrapped her hair up in a turban, hiding her mangled ears underneath, and wore loose robes in dull brown. All that was left uncovered was her face, looking a little too bony as if she hadn’t been eating right, but Akane knew it was genetics; Mine ate huge portions but sweated it off in the sun just like the rest of them. Eyeing her teammate, Akane saw that Mine’s attire made her looked a little peaky, washed-out, and that the dark marks around her eyes were the most engaging part of her, more so than usual.

“And if I blacked out your eyes, you’d look just like him too.” Mine grouched childishly. Akane almost expected her to stick out her tongue.

“I’ll shave off your eyebrows first,” Akane replied, sweeping back her dark hair, staring when Mine gave her a competitive look. A dangerous one. “Kidding,” she said firmly, and Mine smiled.

Wow I'm honored! xD

*cough*

anyways to use the [x] html the code is

[x](or what you want to title it)

So here's a sample, x3 Quote my post to see the codes if you still don't understand.

100 Theme List by Seito and Psyrien

Or
For your first post. x3

[X]

Thank you so much for showing me. :DDD And your list was definately one of the most appealing ones I've seen, especially for a 100 themer. <3

No problem. xD Glad to be of help!

really? xD tis the boredom of two girls really. xD

Oh, it's way better than the comms on lj that repeat 100 themes of "Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, red, yellow, blue, green, rainbow," etc etc. ~_~;; I really dislike those. xDD;; No imagination.

Ah. xD haha yeah I don't like those either. Glad you like it. Those are really fun to write... I should probably go post the next installment. xD

100 Themes: 12. chapstick

The Jinchuuriki girl was lying on top of the play dome. She was big, maybe twelve years old already, and still she hogged the metal play structure! Sunako was jealous, wanted her to leave, but a bit away her fellows were beckoning for her, so she tossed her small braids over her shoulder and ran to join them, blood pumping hotly in her veins, ignorant of the bright sun and the grungy girl lying motionless on the roof. As it drew closer to noon, Sunako had to halt during the games to get a drink of water from her pouch, which she had laid against the swing poles. She dug into her pocket and her fingers found the slick surface of a small container. Popping the cap off, she wiped her lips with the substance inside, making sure to get the paste firmly on.

“Can I have some of that?” A voice asked behind her.

It was the Jinchuuriki, down from the play dome, with her ridiculous headphones and her eyes surrounded by shadows, like she was wearing too much makeup. Her lips were already flaky and chapped, and her smile was wry and amused and altogether unfriendly because it was a smirk and Sunako, eight years old with a ninja daddy and a ninja mommy and a ninja big brother and soon-to-be ninja herself, did not take that kind of attitude.

“No, you can’t,” she pocketed the balm, glaring. “It’s ‘specially for me.”

The older girl frowned before her lips twitched up again in a harsher smile than before. She nodded coolly, condescendingly (Sunako wanted to talk back, but was too afraid, waiting for a reprimand) and walked away to climb right back up the play dome again.

The eight year old waited, and then edged away to play again, eyeing the dome when she could. The next time she passed close to the structure, she stopped, because the Jinchuuriki was awake and watching; Sunako could see the side of her face. Then the Jinchuuriki turned onto her stomach and grinned down at Sunako, and the little girl’s blood froze and boiled in the hot sun as she gaped like a fish at the feral smile, the broken lips with dark blood seeping out through the cracks. The Jinchuuriki’s lips were so dry that blood was coming out from everywhere, a perfect coat of red paint, and Sunako fumbled for her pocket and she thrust the chapstick at her, choking with fear.

“That color doesn’t suit you,” she said to the bleeding, smiling mouth, and ran.

Later she felt a presence at her back; her playmates winded down like dolls in front of her, scared and mute, as a hand slipped a container down her pocket. “Thanks,” said a voice, and Sunako could see the red smile in front of her plain as day. Hours later back home, Sunako took the lip balm from her pocket and opened the cap; the balm wasn’t smeared red like she thought it would be, but there were traces of pink. Sunako moved to throw it away, but she paused and with careful consideration, placed it on her highest shelf, the edge of it barely in view. It would serve as a reminder; though to what, she wasn’t entirely sure.


Real monsters don’t hide in your closet; they wait in open on your bed.

100 Themes: 52. technology challenged

In one of the most popular clubs Mine frequented, she was given the chance one night to operate the disc jockey turntable. Wasn’t sure why she didn’t refuse; maybe because the guy was cute but didn’t act as if his smile would melt her knees (which meant he was smart, another point for him). Maybe because she was right next to the station when she was asked, and maybe because she couldn’t help but call to mind the typical image of a dj artist; lips tight, maybe a tongue poking out in concentration, eyes closed and completely immersed in the rhythm and beat of their creativity.

It sounded like a good way to block out the demon in her head.

So once the current dj had his turn, she stepped behind the podium and ran her hands over the discs and switches. She didn’t bother putting on their headphones; hers were fine. It didn’t matter anyway, being deaf and all. Not that anyone knew of her problem, here. She made a point of not socializing with teenagers her age outside of the clubs; they might have heard of her, Otonashi, but most would look at her and just think she was another punk.

The track began to run. She let it flow uninterrupted for a minute, deciding she would try reading the beats through the crowd, watching as they danced, bobbing to a pattern she could not hear. It was hard, but once she pieced it together, what all the different moves indicated of the music, she put her fingers to the spinning discs and jerked it for the first time. The response left her breathless. The crowd throbbed, adjusted itself as she continued to jerk the track back.

It was like being a puppet master.

It was all Mine had imagined, tenfold. Her eyes were dark as she watched the crowd intently, guessing where would be a good place to add a jerk back here and there, a whole rewind, an echo effect. She experimented, playing with the different gadgets and reading their labels with vague familiarity. She thought she remembered what echoes sounded like. But a synthesizer was something she would never be able to hear.

Ah. Her fingers slid and found one button. The crowd shuddered, reacting to what Mine could not hear. Their eyes widened in surprise, and then rapture. They flung their arms up to the ceiling, swayed slowly and then violently. Like something in the wind. A desert storm, comprised of people.

Mine closed her eyes, fingers trailing against the rough surface of the mixer that felt like sand, continuing the pattern she had created, making the dancers sway and jerk as if buffeted by the fierce winds of sand. She had the image in her eye as she sweated in the heat, simply feeling the crowd around her, content and more than a little happy for it. She’d never know her music. It was perfectly possible that it sounded like crap, because one thing about the dancers in Sunagakure was that they prided themselves on being able to move to any beat, whether or not they liked the music. But, whatever. This was her visual art, and she was making a storm without the loneliness.


[ugh, the last line was what i was aiming for the whole time, but i don't think i pulled it off. really need you to pick me apart for this one.]

[A/N: I wonder if this should be moved to the fanficiton section. Also, warning for swearing.]

100 Themes: 5. water

A figure lay on the bed, colored blue by shadows born from the ray of moonlight coming in through the window. The figure was female, rings around her eyes, wrinkles pulling at her mouth and eyes. She was staring up at the ceiling when a movement attracted her eye; her eyes swiveled around in their sockets to watch as a spider descended from its dark corner to its web, where some type of winged insect had launched itself into its tapestry. The two bugs vibrated on their perch, the deceptively sturdy threads, as they fought to live and to eat.

Same old thing.

“Shukaku,” Mine whispered.

There was a clanging echo from the deep depths of her uncharted mind; territory belonging to the raccoon demon. She could see in her mind’s eye the great demon’s blundering, massive figure as he trudged up from the depths she forced him to occupy and was forced to lease to him in the first place. His yellow button-like eyes looked at her.

“What do you want, you old biddy?” the raccoon said over the hiss of sand as his body constantly sifted apart and rebuilt itself. He sounded patient and happy, as usual, still believing that Mine was going to die soon. She was only in her late thirties, but that didn’t mean much for a ninja. And if she died on the battlefield, there was the high chance Shukaku would be able to run free as he escaped her terminating body. And even if that wasn’t her fate (the council was keeping her home more and more, probably precisely for that reason), the extraction and resealing process was not foolproof, either. Mine had reported that Shukaku was becoming more docile and that she had her suspicions, but the heads of the village as well as the Kazekage were not worried. She wanted to tell them to use as many sealing specialists as they could, but they might not be convinced for the effort. It was their chakra they would be using, not her’s, after all.

So she was going to die at home. She was thirty-eight years old, and she had never seen the world. She had never seen glaciers or snow, nor been on a mountain. She had never seen the peculiar exotic flora of the Marsh country. Nor seen the ocean. All she knew was desert, rocky landscapes, and the beginning thickness of the forest.

“Have you ever been to the sea?” Mine asked calmly.

“Of course. I’ve been everywhere in the thousands of years I’ve been alive.” The demon said indignantly, purposefully not clarifying that it had only been two thousand-something years since he was born.

“Give me the memory.” Mine commanded. The demon growled, but then a glint came into its eyes. It cocked its head and grinned at her.

The next instant Mine was transported into bright light, salty air, so salty, heavy air, noisy like jutsu that sent hills of sand flying only ten, a hundred times more powerful. Cries of strange birds, and water, water everywhere—melting, weighing Mine down, making her drip and clump and water was getting into her mouth as she sank into mush beneath the roaring waves—

Mine gasped, eyes wide, her nails digging into her neck. Shukaku was laughing shrilly in the back of her head. She shuddered on the bed, muscles tensing to tell her that no, she was not made of sand, she would not melt in the water, she was solid and would swim, float. She had just relived Shukaku’s first memory of the ocean, and the demon was too old and too gleeful at scaring her to care that he had shown her a moment of panic and fear in his vast life.

“You fucker,” she said with her old spite, and the demon wheezed, clutching his fat belly. He shuffled around and turned back to go into the dark gloom of his residence.

“I plan on going there again when I get free,” he said, raising a clawed hand over his shoulder. “I expect it will be much more enjoyable.”

Meaning, he wouldn’t drown again. He was much too powerful now to do that. He would master the sea’s affect on his sand. He would get a proper memory of the sea’s beauty and terrible power.

Mine wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Fucker,” she murmured again, and closed her eyes.