Can Someone Explain To Me Why Writing Is So Hard When I Actually Want To Do It

The Seas Greatest Treasure

Gotta love siren Keith.

Growing up, Lance had always loved the beach. Every weekend, when he was growing up, his family would all pile into the old minivan and head to the beach. The weekend was spent camping on the beach, building sandcastles, throwing each other into the waves, and hunting for small crabs and seashells.

The ocean was a part of Lance. He’d lived in Mariel, Cuba all his life, with the ocean behind their house and the sea breeze constantly ruffling his hair. When he was away from home, he found comfort in the gentle breezes, in saltwater taffy, in homemade meals and in good company.

He’d gone to Spain as an exchange student in his first year of college, but his parents had run out of money and he’d had to come home. Now, Lance spent his days working at the local market. He fished for the small company he worked at, bringing in fish in exchange for a paycheck. Working nights wasn’t ideal, but it brought home money for his large family.

Lately the pickings had been slim where he cast his nets, so Lance had chosen a new spot to lay traps in the sandbars just off the coast. It was the last thing he did when he left, daybreak at his back as he goes to make his delivery and retire for the day.

Lance whistles a tune to himself as he makes his way down the bank and into the high tides. His rowboat was bobbing gently as the surf lapped at the sand. The moon was high and full in the sky, shining down on the water.

There was something the Cuban adored about the sea at night. Everything felt so much more magical. The stars were brighter, the area quieter, the waves more peaceful. He didn’t forget the dangers lurking below in the sea, however. He was no fool - he had seen what the waves could do when they had the mind to. He’d seen countless boats drift ashore in pieces, their passengers coughing up seawater or unlucky enough to have been dragged down to the depths for the currents to play with and the fish to nibble at.

All of this echoed in his head as he rowed his way to the nets. Lance was one of the men lucky enough to earn the sea’s favor, despite taking her creatures away to make a living. He utters a small prayer of thanks, unsure who he was praying to. His mother was a devout catholic, but he had always been in awe of the beauty of marine life.

His nets were decently full, he realizes, as he drops an anchor and sets the oars aside. He rubs the soreness from his forearms, leaning over to pull the nets into the boat. To his frustration, they wouldn’t budge.

“Come on…” He says under his breath, yanking harder. The net moves slightly, but doesn’t give way. Lance scowls at the trap, turning and reaching for his pocket knife. Maybe it was stuck on the rocks.

The sight that comes when he turns back around is enough to make him drop his knife back into the boat. It clicks, the blade snapping open and shining devilishly when it lands on the floor.

Wide amethyst eyes stare up at him, alien in the way they glow pale in the moonlight. Sharp teeth poke out from a pair of rosy lips and onyx hair swirls like an oil spill in the water, just inches away from Lance’s arm.

The creatures lashes out mere seconds after Lance yanks his hand away, scrambling to the farthest corner of the boat. Sharp claws break the surface of the water, swiping at the open air. Lance looks down at the creature, at the bubbles that escape from between rows of sharp teeth as the beast snarls.

The net strains as this magnificent being writhes, desperately trying to get away. He’s stuck, Lance thinks belatedly, watching in stupefied wonder. He sees a flash of red and gold scales before the creature gives up, going limp and looking up, a pitiable gleam in his eyes.

“Christ,” The Cuban mutters to himself, edging closer and picking up his knife, just in case. That thing had teeth that looked needle sharp. “Where did you come from?”

It just stares at him, eyes wide and body tense.

“Huh, right. I guess you don’t talk much.” Lance says, feeling foolish as he talks to this being. He doubted that it could understand him. “I guess I should get you out of here, huh?”

There was one problem: Lance’s whole catch would be dumped from their confines and left to escape if he helped this… he racks his brain for a word. Siren? That seemed appropriate. He didn’t think that the sea would take too kindly to one of her children being kidnapped, let alone sold to a fish market. With a great sigh, the Cuban comes to a decision.

“I’m going to cut you free, alright?” He waves the knife.

The siren bares his teeth at him, elongated ears pinned to the side of his head.

Right. Okay. So… waving a knife at a creature who ate people for a living probably wasn’t the best idea. Lance scratches his head sheepishly. “No, I mean…” He pantomimes cutting something. “You know?”

It didn’t know. It begins to writhe again. The fish in the net do their best to dart out of the way, some of them just barely missing the razor sharp nails that the siren was waving about in his panic. Lance could see where the siren had tried biting and clawing himself free. He didn’t imagine that it’s teeth were meant to do that.

“No, No!” He quickly sets the knife down, raising his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! Oh, shoot. I’m going to- just hold still, alright?”

He picks up the knife, leaning over the side of the boat and yanking the net closer. The siren goes incredibly still, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth right before the knife slices the net, tearing it open.

There’s a pregnant pause before all of the fish he’d captured rush out of the net and disappear into the black water, leaving the siren where he was. Lance hesitates, then reaches down and gently tugs it off the creature and back into his boat. He looks mournfully down at it. That was going to cost him a lot for repairs.

The siren breaks the surface after a moment. The Cuban looks up at the soft sound. He backs away slightly, reaching for the anchor rope just in case he needed to make a break for it. The siren drifts closer, then lets out an ear piercing screech.

“Woah!” Lance squawks, falling backwards, surprised at the noise. When he sits back up, he comes face to face with the beast.

The Cuban swallows hard, trying not to panic as the boat dips with the new weight. Bright, intelligent eyes stare into Lance’s, unblinking. From here, he can see the tiny scales patching the siren’s face, the needle-tip points of teeth poking out from under his upper lip.

He expects to be eviscerated. He expects to be sent home in his boat, a wreck of carnage and blood. That was if this being didn’t eat him and leave his bones to decorate the sea floor. Lance can feel each beat of his heart in his throat, can feel the blood turning to ice in his veins, can hear himself breathing.

To his surprise, the creature sinks back into the water with no fuss. It’s clawed, webbed fingers still grasp the side of the boat, keeping him close and watching the fisherman.

“U-Um,” Lance takes a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Hey there. You, uh… you okay?”

The siren’s ears perk, it’s tail flicking and splashing water into the boat. It makes an inquisitive sound.

“Sorry for… you know, the whole net incident.” He rubs his neck. The being must’ve been hunting or chasing the shoal and gotten caught up in the trap. He winces. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to cast his nets.

The siren peers up at him. A moment later, Lance has a lapful of curious mer-being. He makes a soft sound - half fear, half surprise - and tries his best not to shove the creature off for fear of death or serious injury.

Lance gawks at the being, who simply makes himself comfortable and takes the Cuban’s face in his hands. He tilts his head this way and that, his amethyst gaze searching. One claw carefully brushes over his lips, over his nose, over his eyebrows. The siren makes a shrill sound of what he hoped was amusement when Lance quirks one of his eyebrows.

“So… am I forgiven?” He asks, wincing when the creature takes a handful of his hair and tugs.

The siren hums softly, then lets go of Lance’s face and stretches his tail out to his full length, looking up at Lance haughtily. I don’t know, his gaze seemed to say. Why should I forgive a petty mortal?

Lance hadn’t half a mind to be scared - he was too busy gazing at the siren’s tail in awe. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The colors ranged from the deepest garnet, to spilled blood ruby, to daybreak gold, and to a pale red just where his skin met his tail. Scales littered the siren’s torso, but the thing the Cuban was most entranced with were its fins.

It wasn’t anything he would’ve imagined them to be - no amount of cartoon movies could compare. The fins were a delicate membrane, stretched gracefully across strong muscles. They were a pale reddish color, gleaming in the moonlight.

Lance looks back up to a smug half smile, the beautiful siren’s ego significantly boosted. He coos softly, tilting his head knowingly. He was aware of his beauty. It was almost as if he was aware of the songs written about him too, Lance noted.

“You… you’re magnificent.” The Cuban offers a shy smile.

The creature wriggles in glee, reaching down to pet at his scales fondly. It looks up at Lance mischievously, eyes gleaming from under a mop of inky hair. You like these, don’t you? It’s gaze practically screams as he scratches at his scales.

Lance’s face heats up, his eyes widening. Was this the siren version of flirting? Oh God, he hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this. “Yes, your scales are- they’re very lovely.”

The siren watches him a moment, then leans down and picks one of the bigger ones off the base of his tail. They grew back, it wasn’t a huge loss. It takes Lance’s hand, pressing it into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

The Cuban looks down at his palm, then back up at the siren. “Oh, I couldn’t, really… this belongs to you.” He tries to hand it back to the siren. It growls loudly, thrusting Lance’s hand back toward him. He decides to keep it. “Well, um. Thank you for… not eating me. And for your scale.”

The siren preens, brushing a claw over his jawline before slipping back into the water. It peers up at Lance, making a soft noise.

“Will I see you again?” Lance asks hopefully, leaning over the side to better see his new familiar.

We shall see, the siren’s smirk tells him. With one more playful splash of water, the magnificent being ducks under the water. He’s gone in an instant, Lance’s eyes unable to make him out in the black depths of the sea.

The fisherman sits there for a long while. He picks up the net, looking down at it, unable to help the smile that creeps up on him. He looks back out at the sea, at the moon’s reflection, at the mysterious world that he could only dream of understanding.

Never had he been more in love with the ocean.

Part 1 of The Children of the Sea Part 2 | Part 3

send me a fruit

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?

raspberry: favorite flower?

lemon: do you have any pets? what are their names?

mango: what is your trademark?

passion fruit: how would you describe your style?

pineapple: sexual orientation?

strawberry: favorite desserts?

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing?

grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go?

banana: favorite horror movies?

blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama?

pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident?

cantaloupe: what are your parents' names?

guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup?

tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be?

plum: favorite clothing brands?

coconut: favorite perfume?

lychee: satin or lace?

blueberry: what do you want to dress up as for halloween?

apple: what do you use more, tumblr or twitter?

kiwi: what's something that fascinates you?

watermelon: do you have a job? if so, what is your job title?

papaya: what song describes your aesthetic?

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person?

orange: do you have long eyelashes?

apricot: what do you do when you're sad?

star fruit: favorite sea creature?

dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol?

me having a new idea for a relatively short fic:

why don’t you ever finish a fic

Procastntion

me, looking at my three unfinished fics: being a mother is hard

Just a heads up

I came out to my parents yesterday. Actually, I was bullied out of the closet by my mom, but that's.. a whole thing. It was an honest to God wreck, like I was expecting, but it's over with.

That said, I think I'm gonna take a short hiatus until things even out at home and I figure this mess out. Thank you guys for being patient with me.

And shout-out to my beautiful girlfriend 💜 she's the best support system I could've ever dreamed of.

Shiro makes Allura a new crown!

So many Shallura requests! :0 it’s like you guys know I need the practice.

***

It was really odd seeing Allura, the Princess herself, without a crown. She had been kind enough to, yet again, save his life and take the Altean crystal from her crown and embed it in the new arm the Garrison had tried to give him.

Each time he saw her without it, he felt a pang of guilt. She had already lost so much. He hadn’t meant to take more from her, even if she had done it out of the kindness of her heart. The simple gold band that rested on her brow looked so… Empty. Shiro had the odd need to fill that space.

Besides, they were on his home planet. There were stones he could find to replace the one she had given him, even if they didn’t have magical properties. That was going to be difficult, considering the complete destruction of most of the world - but he would manage.

After consulting Pidge and Lance - Lance for advice about style and gemstone, Pidge for her expertise to track things down - Shiro set off with what was left of the savings account he had left behind to meet with an underground gem trader.

It reminded him of a drug deal, the way they met up in an abandoned place. At least everyone knew who he was. If someone did put up a fight, he was able to capacitate them. Also that was just a dick move, to attack the guy who was paying a couple thousand dollars for a gemstone in the collapsing world.

The gem he bought was a moonstone, fit to the exact measurements of her crown. Sneaking it away had been a feat in itself, but Coran had helped after he had figured out what Shiro had wanted. Of course, not after a lecture about honesty and some reminiscing about a time where he and King Alfor had done something similar…

The man he had met for the gemstone was kind enough to set the stone into the crown. Shiro definitely thought it was well worth the money he spent to have it fixed up - and the guy was actually really nice.

***

“Shiro?” Allura looks up as he walks into the room, a frown pinching her brow. “There you are. Have you seen my tiara? I set it down a little while ago and I haven’t found it yet…”

“Oh,” the Paladin says sheepishly, his hands behind his back. “I, uh. Actually, I have something for you.”

“You do?” The Princess straightens, tucking a loose strand of hair that had slipped from her careful bun behind her ear.

Shiro shifts on his feet, mildly embarrassed and definitely nervous. He brings his hands out from behind his back, holding up the tiara guiltily. “So I stole your tiara because you gave me your stone and I wanted to make it up to you, and I know the stone isn’t magic but - it’s a moonstone! Not… from the moon, but I thought you’d appreciate it because it’s blue and…”

“Shiro.” She stops him mid-sentence, grinning brilliantly up at him. “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.” Allura reaches for the crown, placing it back where it belonged.

“How does it look?” She asks, and Shiro can feel his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, Princess.” He says, and the blush he gets in response was well worth the trouble he had gone through to get her this simple pleasure.

***

Requests are still open!

I'm having issues writing today guys :// the next prompt won't be out for another little while

Fic authors deserve more credit.

Story time: I started a book about 23 hours ago and just finished it. Also in that time I slept for 10 hours, spent time with family, was at work, etc. Anyway, I enjoyed the book (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda). But it felt like it flew by, so after I finished I looked up the word count because what are pages? Pages are meaningless. I only function in word counts anymore.

The estimate I found was 58,580. My immediate reaction was “oh, that’s why. That’s nothing!” But what a shitty response. Because no. That’s not nothing. That’s a whole. Damn. Book. An entire novel! And Fic authors regularly bust out 30k, 50k, 100k, 150k words. AND THEY DO IT FOR FREE. WHILE WORKING AND LIVING THEIR LIVES.

So anyway, thank your favorite fic author today because they deserve it. Because they’re amazing. They’re the MVPs.

New fic incoming!

Guess what!! 

After a million years (back to my hetalia phase... geez I’m old), I’m finally writing a multi-chapter fic! The name of it is gonna be State of Broken Things, so if you end up liking it, look out for those tags!

I’m trying my hand at Sheith, which should be interesting, and it’s a slight murder mystery/horror type thing? I have a basic outline of things up until the middle, but I think it’ll be somewhere around 12 chapters? Maybe more? I’ve written the first chapter, and it’s about 3k, so it’ll definitely be longer than any of the short oneshots I’ve been writing. It’ll be up by tomorrow at the latest! 

Once I post it, please, let me know how you like it! Tell me if you have ideas! I love to hear from you guys, it’s always so nice. I look forward to sharing this!