Writing Process: Stream of Concience (D.Gray-man)
Sometimes, I've had issues when writing. Okay, not sometimes, often enough. It's called being self-concious, I think: sometimes I get all the criticism I've had and it freezes my fingers since I start doubting everything I write: it's not about not liking, it's simply PANIC, almost like a phobia.
Usually, I manage to overcome that by making myself write. This is one of the reasons why I rarely beta/check my stuff, especially if it's something I've been working for ages. Sometimes I also do drabble-requests and that helps, too.
But then there are the times where there's this STORY/CHARACTERS/SITUATIONS that just won't get written, no matter how much I try, and that slowly starts bleeding unto my whole write and it... well. It just freezes.
SO. Stream-of-concience-esque-purging of many of the DGM ideas I've had that are just, sort of stuck; I don't think it has a consistent plot as this is just me trying to get them DOWN into paper and also posting it because posting sometimes helps me unblock.
Um. Lots of D.Gray-man stuff, spoilers for the whole manga, lots of my headcanon, NOT WORKSAFE as some of the stories I want to write are, indeed, porn: expect typos and tense-issues and I am in no way responsible whatsoever of the style this thing takes (there is a reason why I'm posting this here rather than in my fic-journal). I might work some of these either into ficlets or into longer fics, but as of now, at least, they're OUT.
Sometimes Komui cries: not often and not frequently enough that he actually remembers when it was the last time he did, but sometimes between the mountains of paperwork and reports of failed-gone-failed-expenses-receipts-failed-dead-dead-dead he presses the heals of his hands against his eyes and just cries without sobbing, shoulders shaking as the mix of exhaustion and worry and fear and hate that's usually wrapped so tightly around him just seems to explode.
The only thing that always happens when he does is this: Linali is never at the Order, and the only other thing that always happens is that, usually, after he does, Reever brings him a cup of coffee without asking or saying a thing, as if he knew.
*
She curls tight to him, sometimes, enough times that Kanda supposes that if Komui knew, he'd be trying to kill him. Trying being the key operational word of course.
Still, it's something they have done since they were little: both too new to the Order and even if he didn't speak Chinese and Linali didn't speak Japanese, the few words that both of them could understand were a lot better than the harsh English words most scientists used, better than the rough - if warm - tones that Tiedoll had used, and they both could pretend that there were no differences whatsoever over their faces and sometimes even Kanda allowed himself to believe that he was home.
So what if he knows better by now, if Linali no longer tries to run away from the Order. It's no-one's business, after all.
*
"--flew up and then his wings burnt and he fell to the sea, where he became the first merman ever."
Allen frowns a little, curious, and there's a spark in his eyes then as he smirks. "You're lying."
Rabi sighs, more show than actual disappointment. "Should've known that you'd catch that."
Allen nods, looking happy and pleased and Rabi does his best not to pay much notice to that, telling himself that he had only said so because Allen's honest-to-god dark moods tend to be contagious.
And so Rabi keeps over the fact that it hadn't been a lie, not really, but he looks at Allen and he hopes like hell that this Icarus won't try to get too close to the sun again: Rabi's sure that coming-back-to-life without the whole Akuma thing is something that only happens once, no matter who you are.
*
And there's the friction he had been searching (Lulubell had been all water as she took him, teasing and cool and so soft, and Ticky had felt once again that they could continue forever, lust and pleasure until there was nothing left of them) and Jasdero hisses in surprise at the hand that sets itself inside him; it makes David bite hard at his shoulder, pressing his gun to the side of his head, hissing.
"_Careful, idiot_," he orders, pushing him lower as he fucks him. Ticky laughs a little, warm, even as he takes out his hand, leaning to brush the thread over Jasdero's mouth.
"I'm sorry," he tells his brother, and Jasdero pulls a grin, no more surprise over him, his fingers tugging at his hair and Ticky moaned again. Ticky still smiles. "So I'm forgiven?"
"Of course you are," Rhode giggles. Ticky has enough breath left as he pushes inside Jasdero, as David moans and curses, to turn his head and look towards their sisters, where Lulubell remains nude and pressed against Skin's chest, moaning gently at the hand that's between her legs, at the way Rhode curls close to Lulubell, using one of her daggers to cut ever so gently a line over Lulubell's skin, watching it disappear once and again and again. "We're siblings, after all."
*
Rabi is good at getting crushes - has been getting them long before he was even a teenager, once he heard some other kids talking about it, about having sweethearts and little girlfriends and it was something that was over as soon as he took got rid of his name: taking off a name meant letting go of anything that wasn't important, so he dropped and pushed every little thing into the furthest corners of his mind and never thought about them again.
But it was different with being Rabi for so long, because then he didn't know what to do with said crushes even if he didn't think about them: so what if he kind of stared at general Cloud a lot, or what if he sort of really likes when he manages to catch Yuu looking relaxed, or if he likes when Linali smiles.
It's until later with Allen dead and the 'I like that he's slightly evil' and some 'he's kind of alright' and when all that's good for nothing except to weight him down that Rabi realizes that they're going to die one day probably soon because it's a war and people die during wars, and Rabi can just hope before all's too late that before that happens he stops being Rabi, because he's not sure what he'll do with the feelings he's got when that happens, because he doesn't know how to let go as Rabi, has no clue at all.
*
"Like this," Mana tells him and his smile is very warm. They got a lot of money performing today, enough that Mana bought him a little cupcake that was still warm between his hands as a dessert, and later they just sat down and watched the snowflakes drift down.
And then Mana and him draw again, soft words and circles and dots, and Allen laughs out loud when Mana writes him in their secret language 'You've got crumbs on your face'.
*
The boy had hurt, hurt so badly: Hevlaska doesn't have eyes to close, not anymore, but she wishes she could do so becuase she still has the picture of the boy deeply ingrained inside herself, and the innocence they had tried to put inside of him is still hurt and upset and angry and betrayed; Hevlaska thinks that some of that must have been the boy's feelings, too.
*
Maria calls him something in Spanish that makes Mana bark a laugh. Cross rolls his eyes, knowing enough latin to get the basic truth behind her words. He leans against her, though, his hands deep inside her dark brown hair,, leaning over to press a kiss to her neck, just above the collarbone of her jacket. Mana steals his cigarette, crossing his legs.
"Sing us something, instead of cursing, darling. It suits you better."
Maria's green eyes are amused as she looks at him but she takes a deep breath and then she sings, soft and enchanting over the sunrise, his very own mermaid and his very own traitor both by his side even as Mana smiles, and Cross knows that if this could carry on, he wouldn't care about the war.
*
It's hard and angry with a whole damn layer of both of them being terrified out of their wits: Rabi doesn't even stop himself from thinking that of course it had to be, after all the fuck he's had tried to do from the whole 'falling in love' stupidity that he never thought he'd be, well, stupid enough to actually do.
It doesn't matter because both of them were about to die and both of them are fucking stupid and upset about that, and the knowledge that he shouldn't be upset is bitter enough in Rabi's stomach that he cares about little else, even as Allen presses him against the wall, even as he has to bend his knees a little, even as he and Allen kiss like fighting, Allen calling him an idiot, Rabi agreeing even as he calls him an idiot back.
Then they're both busy trying to open their uniforms, think about tearing if it's easier, kissing again and Allen's right hand is tight over the nape of his hair as if to keep him there, to avoid getting him away and Rabi is not sorry as he finally pushes his hand inside Allen's trousers and he can hold his cock, even in the tight confines of his trousers, and some of his anger leaves as Allen half collapses against him, panting against his neck, a broken litany of 'thought I wouldn't make it' and 'thought you were dead' that makes him feel guilty rather than angry, and he mutters a me too, still stroking Allen, but holding him closer now, as close as they can get when they're like this.
*
There's not much clothes left in Martel. Lala and Gozul leave once or twice and creep as close as they can to the other cities and they steal what they need.
Later at night, as she wears the new dress that Gozul thought would look nice with her eyes, lala smiles, closing her eye, thinking that she can almost feel the way Gozul's fingers move through her hair.
*
Eliade teaches him to dance. Crowley keeps looking down, to his feet, and then Eliade moves her hand to his face, and with her fingertips she taps his chin and she smiles at him, soft and coy and playful, and she makes herself twirl away far far away and Crowley thinks his heart would break, if Eliade wasn't always at the end of his own fingertips, always close for him to tug her over, for Eliade to laugh as she twirls in her dress, looking up.
*
Few bookmen, Bookman knows, go through their life without doubting of what they do. It's easy at first, harder as they grow up: it wouldn't do, he has always thought, to have a recorder that never doubts, a Bookman that never hesitates and finally decides what is important, what should matter the most.
He watches Rabi, and he doesn't worry - worrying for something that, in the end, will either happen or not is something completely human, something that people pay too much attention to - but he wishes he could read inside his pupil's mind to be more certain of how things go.
Few men - bookmen and humans alike - get over completely of a broken heart.
Usually, I manage to overcome that by making myself write. This is one of the reasons why I rarely beta/check my stuff, especially if it's something I've been working for ages. Sometimes I also do drabble-requests and that helps, too.
But then there are the times where there's this STORY/CHARACTERS/SITUATIONS that just won't get written, no matter how much I try, and that slowly starts bleeding unto my whole write and it... well. It just freezes.
SO. Stream-of-concience-esque-purging of many of the DGM ideas I've had that are just, sort of stuck; I don't think it has a consistent plot as this is just me trying to get them DOWN into paper and also posting it because posting sometimes helps me unblock.
Um. Lots of D.Gray-man stuff, spoilers for the whole manga, lots of my headcanon, NOT WORKSAFE as some of the stories I want to write are, indeed, porn: expect typos and tense-issues and I am in no way responsible whatsoever of the style this thing takes (there is a reason why I'm posting this here rather than in my fic-journal). I might work some of these either into ficlets or into longer fics, but as of now, at least, they're OUT.
Sometimes Komui cries: not often and not frequently enough that he actually remembers when it was the last time he did, but sometimes between the mountains of paperwork and reports of failed-gone-failed-expenses-receipts-failed-dead-dead-dead he presses the heals of his hands against his eyes and just cries without sobbing, shoulders shaking as the mix of exhaustion and worry and fear and hate that's usually wrapped so tightly around him just seems to explode.
The only thing that always happens when he does is this: Linali is never at the Order, and the only other thing that always happens is that, usually, after he does, Reever brings him a cup of coffee without asking or saying a thing, as if he knew.
*
She curls tight to him, sometimes, enough times that Kanda supposes that if Komui knew, he'd be trying to kill him. Trying being the key operational word of course.
Still, it's something they have done since they were little: both too new to the Order and even if he didn't speak Chinese and Linali didn't speak Japanese, the few words that both of them could understand were a lot better than the harsh English words most scientists used, better than the rough - if warm - tones that Tiedoll had used, and they both could pretend that there were no differences whatsoever over their faces and sometimes even Kanda allowed himself to believe that he was home.
So what if he knows better by now, if Linali no longer tries to run away from the Order. It's no-one's business, after all.
*
"--flew up and then his wings burnt and he fell to the sea, where he became the first merman ever."
Allen frowns a little, curious, and there's a spark in his eyes then as he smirks. "You're lying."
Rabi sighs, more show than actual disappointment. "Should've known that you'd catch that."
Allen nods, looking happy and pleased and Rabi does his best not to pay much notice to that, telling himself that he had only said so because Allen's honest-to-god dark moods tend to be contagious.
And so Rabi keeps over the fact that it hadn't been a lie, not really, but he looks at Allen and he hopes like hell that this Icarus won't try to get too close to the sun again: Rabi's sure that coming-back-to-life without the whole Akuma thing is something that only happens once, no matter who you are.
*
And there's the friction he had been searching (Lulubell had been all water as she took him, teasing and cool and so soft, and Ticky had felt once again that they could continue forever, lust and pleasure until there was nothing left of them) and Jasdero hisses in surprise at the hand that sets itself inside him; it makes David bite hard at his shoulder, pressing his gun to the side of his head, hissing.
"_Careful, idiot_," he orders, pushing him lower as he fucks him. Ticky laughs a little, warm, even as he takes out his hand, leaning to brush the thread over Jasdero's mouth.
"I'm sorry," he tells his brother, and Jasdero pulls a grin, no more surprise over him, his fingers tugging at his hair and Ticky moaned again. Ticky still smiles. "So I'm forgiven?"
"Of course you are," Rhode giggles. Ticky has enough breath left as he pushes inside Jasdero, as David moans and curses, to turn his head and look towards their sisters, where Lulubell remains nude and pressed against Skin's chest, moaning gently at the hand that's between her legs, at the way Rhode curls close to Lulubell, using one of her daggers to cut ever so gently a line over Lulubell's skin, watching it disappear once and again and again. "We're siblings, after all."
*
Rabi is good at getting crushes - has been getting them long before he was even a teenager, once he heard some other kids talking about it, about having sweethearts and little girlfriends and it was something that was over as soon as he took got rid of his name: taking off a name meant letting go of anything that wasn't important, so he dropped and pushed every little thing into the furthest corners of his mind and never thought about them again.
But it was different with being Rabi for so long, because then he didn't know what to do with said crushes even if he didn't think about them: so what if he kind of stared at general Cloud a lot, or what if he sort of really likes when he manages to catch Yuu looking relaxed, or if he likes when Linali smiles.
It's until later with Allen dead and the 'I like that he's slightly evil' and some 'he's kind of alright' and when all that's good for nothing except to weight him down that Rabi realizes that they're going to die one day probably soon because it's a war and people die during wars, and Rabi can just hope before all's too late that before that happens he stops being Rabi, because he's not sure what he'll do with the feelings he's got when that happens, because he doesn't know how to let go as Rabi, has no clue at all.
*
"Like this," Mana tells him and his smile is very warm. They got a lot of money performing today, enough that Mana bought him a little cupcake that was still warm between his hands as a dessert, and later they just sat down and watched the snowflakes drift down.
And then Mana and him draw again, soft words and circles and dots, and Allen laughs out loud when Mana writes him in their secret language 'You've got crumbs on your face'.
*
The boy had hurt, hurt so badly: Hevlaska doesn't have eyes to close, not anymore, but she wishes she could do so becuase she still has the picture of the boy deeply ingrained inside herself, and the innocence they had tried to put inside of him is still hurt and upset and angry and betrayed; Hevlaska thinks that some of that must have been the boy's feelings, too.
*
Maria calls him something in Spanish that makes Mana bark a laugh. Cross rolls his eyes, knowing enough latin to get the basic truth behind her words. He leans against her, though, his hands deep inside her dark brown hair,, leaning over to press a kiss to her neck, just above the collarbone of her jacket. Mana steals his cigarette, crossing his legs.
"Sing us something, instead of cursing, darling. It suits you better."
Maria's green eyes are amused as she looks at him but she takes a deep breath and then she sings, soft and enchanting over the sunrise, his very own mermaid and his very own traitor both by his side even as Mana smiles, and Cross knows that if this could carry on, he wouldn't care about the war.
*
It's hard and angry with a whole damn layer of both of them being terrified out of their wits: Rabi doesn't even stop himself from thinking that of course it had to be, after all the fuck he's had tried to do from the whole 'falling in love' stupidity that he never thought he'd be, well, stupid enough to actually do.
It doesn't matter because both of them were about to die and both of them are fucking stupid and upset about that, and the knowledge that he shouldn't be upset is bitter enough in Rabi's stomach that he cares about little else, even as Allen presses him against the wall, even as he has to bend his knees a little, even as he and Allen kiss like fighting, Allen calling him an idiot, Rabi agreeing even as he calls him an idiot back.
Then they're both busy trying to open their uniforms, think about tearing if it's easier, kissing again and Allen's right hand is tight over the nape of his hair as if to keep him there, to avoid getting him away and Rabi is not sorry as he finally pushes his hand inside Allen's trousers and he can hold his cock, even in the tight confines of his trousers, and some of his anger leaves as Allen half collapses against him, panting against his neck, a broken litany of 'thought I wouldn't make it' and 'thought you were dead' that makes him feel guilty rather than angry, and he mutters a me too, still stroking Allen, but holding him closer now, as close as they can get when they're like this.
*
There's not much clothes left in Martel. Lala and Gozul leave once or twice and creep as close as they can to the other cities and they steal what they need.
Later at night, as she wears the new dress that Gozul thought would look nice with her eyes, lala smiles, closing her eye, thinking that she can almost feel the way Gozul's fingers move through her hair.
*
Eliade teaches him to dance. Crowley keeps looking down, to his feet, and then Eliade moves her hand to his face, and with her fingertips she taps his chin and she smiles at him, soft and coy and playful, and she makes herself twirl away far far away and Crowley thinks his heart would break, if Eliade wasn't always at the end of his own fingertips, always close for him to tug her over, for Eliade to laugh as she twirls in her dress, looking up.
*
Few bookmen, Bookman knows, go through their life without doubting of what they do. It's easy at first, harder as they grow up: it wouldn't do, he has always thought, to have a recorder that never doubts, a Bookman that never hesitates and finally decides what is important, what should matter the most.
He watches Rabi, and he doesn't worry - worrying for something that, in the end, will either happen or not is something completely human, something that people pay too much attention to - but he wishes he could read inside his pupil's mind to be more certain of how things go.
Few men - bookmen and humans alike - get over completely of a broken heart.