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Can someone explain to me why writing is so hard when I actually want to do it

When I die…

… plant catnip on my grave. I want to be visited by lots and lots of cats.

The Rhythm of Love

Keith always known that Lance had the most angelic singing voice known to man. But they were dating, so he supposed he was a little biased. He could sit and listen to his boyfriend sing for hours - while they were cleaning, in the car, on the quad at their college campus. Even if he was goofing off, Lance still blew Keith away with his range and the sweetness of his singing voice.

He liked it best when Lance sang in Spanish. It was so natural, the way it flowed, and he looked so happy when a song in his mother tongue. More often than not, Keith found himself whisked into some form of dancing with his significant other. Lance would take him by the hand, twirl him around.

The most common thing Lance liked to do was make silly faces at him while he sang. Sometimes he would sneak kisses, but he always made Keith laugh. The Korean had noticed that this was a habit his boyfriend had formed whenever it was a particularly rough day.

Those singing and dancing sessions usually ended with Keith pressed against Lance as the Cuban sang into his hair along with the music, swaying from side to side. They didn’t have these very often, but Keith appreciated them nonetheless. It was comfortable.

The point is, singing had becoming integrated into the Korean’s life. He’d learned to love it, love the way it changed the dynamic of their relationships and the routine of everyday life. A few years ago, Keith was left to his thoughts.

Lance had learned just how dangerous that had been when Shiro, Keith’s older brother, had called him by mistake instead of Matt and Pidge. Keith would never forget the look on Lance’s face when he woke up in a hospital, arms bandaged and pain thrumming through his temples.

After that, Keith’s boyfriend had taken it upon himself to immerse him into music. He couldn’t complain; he found he preferred the music tastes of his boyfriend over anyone else’s. Granted, they lived together, so it was about ninety percent of what he listened to anyways.

Sometimes, when all of their friends gathered together, Lance would bring his guitar out and they would drink beer and sing old camp songs. Other times, Keith would beg and plead and nag to get Lance to serenade him with old Cuban love songs.

At the moment, Keith and Lance were spending a day off together. Music was playing, of course, and they were baking a cake for Pidge’s birthday. Which is code for Keith was baking a cake - it had surprised him that he was the one who knew how to cook more than his boyfriend - and Lance was being in the way and trying to eat all the batter.

“Lance.” Keith snaps, swatting his hand away. “If you keep eating it, I’ll have to start all over.”

“Ouch,” Lance whines. He pouts for a moment, then reaches over to steal more. “I’m fine with that.”

“Well, I’m not!” Keith snatches the bowl away, just as the oven beeps to indicate that it was hot enough to start baking things. “Look, now you can’t anyways. I’m putting it in the oven.”

He pours the batter into three separate cake pans, sliding them into the oven and setting the timer.

“Now what will I eat?” Lance groans.

Keith rolls his eyes, sliding the oven mitts off and making a shooing motion. “Other food. I think we have chicken nuggets out in the freezer in the garage.”

The Cuban perks up, sliding off the counter and leaning over to kiss Keith’s flour-dusted cheek. “Hell yeah, chicken nuggets! I’ll be back.”

The Korean shakes his head fondly, looking over at him. He turns back to the task at hand, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counters. He had never been a clean baker. Once, he’d baked a cake at Hunk’s house, and the poor guy nearly had an aneurysm. Now he stuck to his own kitchen. At least here, he could get flour all over the place and it was a team effort for cleaning, so long as he let his boyfriend ‘help’.

The music was playing softly beside him. Keith turns it up once he recognizes the song, humming to himself. He had never thought his voice was remarkable. Lance had been the one in choirs, with a couple voice lessons, with the garage band he’d been so devoted to in high school. Keith just liked to sing to himself on occasion.

He could harmonize, though. Pidge had told him once that his melodies were eerily good. He didn’t like to sing the low undertones that you usually found underneath the lead singers’ voice - he liked to find a pitch or a range that was new and fun to try.

The song that was playing already had a lead vocalist whose voice was strange. Not in a bad way, like some of the music Lance had tried to get him to listen to. This guy could do things with his voice that made Keith shiver and have to catch his breath. Lance liked to try and imitate him, just for the reaction he got out of his boyfriend.

Singing to this one artist was fun. Keith found new ways to sing along every time, by changing his pitch or adding slides or simply making his voice do incredibly odd things that made his ears happy. This was one of the times he experimented.

Personally, Keith was impressed just because he could hold the pitch. He sings to himself as he wipes the kitchen clean and stacks dishes in the sink. It isn’t until he realizes that Lance had been gone a long time looking for chicken nuggets that he stops what he’s doing, singing and all, and looks up.

Lance was leaning on the doorway, his arms crossed and a small smile on his lips. His blue gaze was incredibly soft, resting on Keith like he was the loveliest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Keith blinks at him, then blushes and looks back down, busying himself with the dishes. “Oh, hey. Did you find the… stuff?”

“No,” He hums, pushing off the wall. Lance walks over, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and kissing his shoulder. “How did you learn to sing like that?”

“Oh, I just,” he leans back into Lance, shrugging. “I dunno. I just… sing, I guess.”

“It’s beautiful.” The Cuban murmurs, nosing at his neck. “You’re beautiful.”

Keith smiles to himself, tipping his head back to look at him. “So are you.”

“Oh, hush.” Lance laughs, brushing his hands along his side. “Let me pamper you, babe. Let me praise your beautiful singing.”

“Lance...” He groans, a blush creeping up his neck.

His boyfriend laughs, peppering kissing up his neck and wrapping his arms snugly around his waist. “Okay, okay. Just promise me you won’t stop, okay? I wanna sing with you.”

Keith thinks about this for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah,” he consents. “I guess so. Just don’t make me sing in front of people.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

They stay like that for a little while, Keith leaning back against Lance. Music filters softly through the kitchen. The timer counts down. Life slows down for a just a few moments.

“Did you find what you wanted?” Keith hums after a moment.

“No…” Lance grunts, dropping his chin onto Keith’s shoulder.

“Did you move things around, or did you just open the freezer?”

Lance stays quiet at that, huffing and tightening his grip. Keith rolls his eyes, pulling away and taking his hand. “Let’s go. I bet you it’s in the back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whines, following Keith out to the garage. The two bicker good-naturedly, caught up in each other’s company and love. Back in the kitchen, the music that had brought them together plays on.

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Klancetober Day Two: Autumn Leaves

So... I did fall behind. Midterms are coming up and I forgot about time management!

*

Keith steps back to survey his work, wiping a sleeved arm over his face to rid it of the sweat. He leans on his rake, smiling faintly at the massive pile of leaves he had managed to gather. It had taken him a couple hours, but the leaves were gathered and he could put them in the compost pile Lance was lovingly tending to, along with their garden.

“Cannonball!” Comes a happy shriek, moments before the pile of leaves he’d so carefully constructed went up with a puff of wind and a body falling heavily into the middle.

Keith stares at the leaves in disbelief, gaping. “Lance!” He whines, dropping the rake.

The perpetrator looks up at him with sparkling blue eyes, crumpled bits of leaves stuck to his hair and clothes, his grin mischievous and wide. “Oops,” he says.

“You- You did that on purpose!” Keith whines, stomping over and putting his hands on his hips to glower down at the Cuban.

“Did I?” He gasps, feigning surprise. “Oh, no, whatever will you do…”

“Now I have to start all over again!”

“Or…” Lance wiggles his eyebrows, reaching up and yanking on his hand, pulling him down. Keith falls with a yelp, landing on his boyfriend’s chest.

“You could stay here,” Lance finishes, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek and picking a leaf from his hair.

“But I just finished and now we’re ruining them…” He bemoans, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance grins, rolling over and pinning him in the leaves. Keith looked good like this; his ebony hair spilling over the red and gold and brown leaves, skin flushed from the cold, his lips holding the pout that his eyes matched with fond annoyance. “You really need to relax, babe.”

“But my leaves…”

“...Will be here all month.” He laughs, brushing his hair from his face and leaning down to give him a kiss. “Don’t worry,” he coos, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Keith accepts the kiss with a huff, settling into his ruined pile of leaves to accept the affection given to him. “You better.” He mumbles, reaching up to brush bits of fallen leaves from Lance’s hair.

Lance ends up getting his way, and the two roll around the leaves, the wind picking them up and scattering them around the yard once more. Keith had the feeling his boyfriend was going to make a habit of this each time he pulled out the rake.

Oh well, he decides, it was a good way to lure Lance outside for some fresh air. If the fallen leaves were what it took, then he was happy for the chore.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! ❤️ I hope tomorrow is better for you!

I’ve been watching a lot of Mad Men because Jon Hamm and I cant stop thinking of like a sixties AU with Gabe and Beez, or just switching out broody Don Draper for Gabriel so could I suggest a domestic 60s set Ineffable Bureaucracy thing?

I decided to do 1968 because of the Apollo 7 mission (I think Bee is just a huge space nerd) and also because I have no idea what Mad Men is (thank you for giving me a new show to watch though, holy shit!! Jon Hamm is a gift). I tried very hard to do this in a 60s setting but it may come off more as 50s themed- I pulled some familiar stuff I know from The Help and read up on some careers before I hopped into this. Bee’s name is Beatrice in this because reasons.

*

Gabriel loved his life. He had a good job working as a Creative Director in a big advertising company, made enough money to be comfortable, got the weekends off to do whatever he pleased, and had a lovely wife to go home to. 

Wife. The concept was still foreign, still made him shiver and smile and feel mushy as could be. Bee would tell him to shove a sock in it, if she were here.

He and Beatrice Romanov had gotten married only a month ago, but only because she had insisted she was going to finish her college degree before he was allowed to strap her down. Gabriel would have liked to have married her the minute he had seen her under those trees in the college courtyard, but she had put her foot down. 

It took a lot more to court her than just a charming smile and a compliment, he had learned very quickly. In fact, the first time he’d done that, he’d ended up with a milkshake in his lap. 

“I’m not a cheap whore,” the soon-to-be love of his life had snapped, her dark eyes blazing with hellfire. “Don’t treat me like one.”

Gabriel had never been spoken to like that by a girl — or anyone — before. At first he was offended, so he made it his duty to try and outdo her in each of the classes they had together. Unfortunately for him, he’d found his match. She was whip smart, mean as a junkyard dog, and took shit from absolutely nobody. Many men had walked away with tattered dignity and a broken nose after attempting to tame this wildfire of a girl. 

He quickly found that instead of wanting to defeat her, Gabriel wanted to impress her. He wanted her to give him that sharp little smile she got when she won. He wanted to hear that laugh, wicked and graceless, that she would let loose on occasion when she was around her friends. He wanted those dark eyes to be on him, always. He wanted.

That wanting turned into a game of cat and mouse very quickly, both of them doing things that had society frowning and the other taunting them to continue. Heated looks across classrooms. Stolen kisses against the bookshelves of the library. His hand on her thigh, her back pressed to the cold stone wall of her dorm building. 

One night, Gabriel took the bait, and had his world shattered by his name broken on her lips, her body bare against his, those eyes looking up at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

Gabriel woke up the next morning with his vessel of hellfire next to him in bed, her inky black hair spilling over his pillow and tickling his nose. The sunlight streaming in the window made her skin look like porcelain, her body ethereal and too perfect to belong in even Heaven. The frustration and pent up tension that remained in him quickly gave way to something that melted his insides, took his breath, and made him pull her closer and press a kiss to her hair.

Three years later, he knelt in front of her with a small velvet box and watched those beautiful dark eyes glisten with tears and love and the promise of a future.

And now he got to go home to his future every single night.

“Leaving already?” Comes a teasing call as Gabriel packs his things up for the weekend.

He looks up, then gives his co-worker a polite smile. “Ah, Sandalphon. Yes, it’s my night for the dishes and Bee wants to watch the Apollo 7 launch with me.”

“You’re whipped, you know.” Comes the predictable laugh, accompanied by others in the office who were bad at pretending to not listen in on conversations. “That wife of yours has you on a leash.”

Gabriel shakes his head, unable to help his smile. “What can I say? I like a girl who takes charge. Evening, gentlemen.”

He leaves with wolf whistling and whoops following him out, but his mind is focused on calculating how much more time it would be until he got to go home to his wife. If he stopped at the supermarket and bought her favorite bottle of wine and some flowers, it would only add another fifteen minutes…

*

“You’re late!” Comes the call when he closes the door. He winces — he had been trying to be quiet so he could surprise her. Nothing got past Bee. 

“Sorry, my love.” He calls, slipping his shoes off and treading carefully into the kitchen. 

The sight that greets him is one he’d come home to for the rest of his life, but one that would always make his heart swell and his knees weak. 

His wife was standing at the stove, stirring what smelled like spaghetti sauce, a red gingham apron tied around her neck and waist. Her hair was pulled back from her face, piled messily on her head and stuck through with a knitting needle (his mother had gotten them for her, trying to insist she needed to be more ladylike. Bee wore them in her hair out of spite. Besides, they did well in a pinch).

“Hello,” Gabriel walks over, pausing to kiss her cheek before fetching a vase to put the flowers in. “I brought you something.”

Bee glances up, surprise flickering in dark eyes, before she smiles. “Sap. Put the wine on ice, we can have it with dinner. It’ll be ready in a little bit.”

“It smells good, Bee.” He does as he’s told, then pulls up a chair at the table to sit and talk with her while she finishes dinner.

His wife blows a stray hair from her face, her brows creasing. “Your mother sent the recipe to me. No, she showed up to my work to give it to me. Spent twenty minutes going on and on and on about how a good housewife always makes her husband’s favorite things…” Bee makes an irritated noise. 

“At work?” Gabriel sits up, frowning. “I’ll talk to her…”

“No need,” she says, with that grin she used to give him just before she dragged him behind a building at school and kissed him senseless. “I took care of it.”

“Bee,” he says, a rush of fondness and exasperation rolling over him. And maybe a bit of dread. “What did you do?”

“Oh, she’ll call you about it later.” She waves a hand, her smile growing. 

Gabriel didn’t even have it in him to be upset — his mother was insufferable about everything Bee did. About how she dressed, how she behaved, how she treated Gabriel. When Bee’d refused to marry her son in a church, that was when Gabriel accepted that he was going to be stuck in the middle of an eternal feud.

But watching his wife move around their kitchen and complain about her day, he found he couldn’t mind. It was amusing to see his wife come up with petty ways to get back at the people who annoyed her. It was definitely a good reminder that she would put up with none of his shit, not ever. 

“Are we watching the launch during dinner?” Gabriel asks when she turns the stove top off. 

She brightens. “Yes! And the newest Star Trek comes out tonight, too. You don’t mind if we watch both?”

Gabriel gives her a fond look, getting up to get them both some wine. “Not at all. Whatever makes you happy, darling.”

Bee grins, blocking his way and leaning up on her tiptoes for a kiss, her fingers snagging and wrinkling his work shirt. He bends to meet her, his hand resting against the curve of her spine and tugging her closer against him as their lips meet.

The chase had been well worth it, Gabriel reflects, as his wife hooks a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down farther to her mercy with a wicked smile. He wouldn’t trade any of this for anything.

there’s no better feeling than getting fucked up by an author over and over as you make your way through their ao3 fic list

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

What did I do to deserve someone who shares in my weirdness?

Also, watch me use ‘Oof’ in conversation too many times.

Ohohoh!!! I love your writing so much I look up to you a lot 💜 can you write some klance?? I'm super into a god/goddess au right now and I'm not even sure if I can do it justice.

I’ve got inspiration but idk what to write aaaaaaaaa hELP