Merry Christmahannukwanza to all. Just a little drabble I put together, dedicated to my wonderfully amazing friend, Zignat. I don't have any real reason why, just because she's so supportive and all that. Hope you're reading this, Z-chan.
Oh, and I'm very new to the whole Gravitation fandom and whatnot, so sorry for OoCness. Unbeta'd, un-looked-over, and all that, so don't mind spelling/grammar mistakes.

Writer's Block

I can't think, can't concentrate. My mind is a barren wasteland. Writing classes...such a joke. For all they drill us in punctuation, grammar, spelling, no useful thing did I learn for coping with a dearth of ideas. Dearth, lack, deficiency, shortage... See? I can say it a dozen different ways, but what good does it do me?

I feel like I'm slowly going mad, trying to think and getting nowhere. My head hurts; I growl in frustration, smack myself, and reread my last line. Alright, so the hero has reached an inn to spend the night: what now? He rapes five girls all at once, is arrested and dies in a prison fight. The End, goodnight, sayonara. Problem solved. Now that I know I've officially gone mental, I attempt once more to focus. Describe the inn...yeah, that'll set the mood. In my mind I try to imagine the inn. I see...a barren wasteland. Damnit!

A call from my editor. Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. Crap. No respect, I tell you. Somehow, the conversation doesn't inspire me, and I have even less ability to concentrate than before. Okay, it's a dark, dreary inn, but it's the only place for miles around. It's shadowy and mysterious, much like my protagonist. It doesn't hold the best of company, but the sake is good, and has its own special brand of regulars.

Just as I place my fingers to the keyboard, however, the door slams open and The Brat walks in, whistling some aimless tune. Fuck! There goes any progress I might have made tonight. I shoot my most insidious glare at him, and he seems to get the hint; he stops dead in his tracks. A few steps to the left - his eyes never leave mine. Suddenly, he makes a mad dash for the kitchen and it seems I may have the peace I need at last. Once again, I prepare my mind to return to the task at hand. Shadows...a fat, ugly barkeeper...what do I want to happen at the inn? Anything? A chance meeting with a lovely young lady?

A dull clank interrupts me; what the hell is Shuichi doing? I ignore it, it's not my problem. My problem is my want of any decent plot. I type a few sentences, trying to word them as richly as possible to detract from the fact that I'm not really saying anything. Just as I think I might finally be on a role, my neck starts to prickle; it feels as though someone is watching me. Ah, who cares, let me just finish this scene!

Unable to take it any longer, I turn my head to once again glare at my lover. He's sitting just a few feet away, gazing at me with those big, innocent eyes, and slowly licking at some ice cream on a spoon. Damn him and his skillful, sexy tongue! I growl at him to get the fuck out; he seems to take the hint. He zooms out of there faster than a jackrabbit late for a date...hmmm, maybe I can somehow work that into my scene.

Once again, I picture the hero of my novel, but without warning his face turns into that of my lover, and he has a bowl of icecream in one hand, a spoon in the other, and a come-hither look in his eyes. Crap! I can't get the image out of my head. My mind can no longer focus on anything else. Mmmmm, icecream. Mmmmm, Shuichi. Mmmmm, icecream-flavoured Shuichi...

Screw this, I'm done, finished for tonight. Besides, the brat has always given me such amazing inspiration for the love scenes...

Fin

Don't ask about the ice cream...honest. Although, I personally think ice cream-flavoured Ryuichi-chan or Tohma-kun would taste MUCH better... Oh, and I don't own Gravitation.