Ha. Hah. Isn't it funny? These recent chapters were written moments before the deadline at the comm, which means I rushed through these. Yet, they still turned out better than the previous ones, which were written when there was plenty of time left.
Hah. Hah. Hah... T_T

Title: Writer's Block

Theme: #29- Café

Claim: Robin

Words: 861

Rating: K+ for mild language

Warning: An OC. It's when I lost inspiration when I start vomiting up crap stories like this. Even the OC's name is crap.

Pencil tap. Tap. Tap. Coffee? Coffee. More coffee.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin and sighed, stabbing the dry crumbs on his plate with his pen. One hand crumbled up the scribbled-on sheet and stuffed it in one of two bags by his feet- labeled "NO". The other was covered in stickers of animals and cartoon characters and was completely empty.

Writer's block was a bitch.

"Is this chair taken?"

The man looked up to see a young woman with dark hair with one hand rested hesitantly on the seat across from him.

"No." his arm jerked, sending his coffee cup flying to the tiled floor. "Ah, shit!"

As an employee silently rushed to him to clean up the small lukewarm puddle, he began scribbling on a new sheet. "All… beverages… regulated… by… ah, no, that's shit too."

"Are you a writer?" the woman asked. She hadn't even left yet. The man adjusted his smeared glasses and frowned.

"You got any ideas that can land me on the top shelf of the bookstores?"

"Not that I know of. I have read many stories in my years, however. Perhaps I can help." and just like that, without asking any further, the woman sat down, careful not to get in the way of the employee scrubbing at the cracks between the tiles. "What's your name?"

"Damb."

"Damn?"

"No, Damb."

"I see." She nodded and caught sight of the bag by his foot spilling over with crumpled paper. "How long have you been here exactly, Mr. Writer?"

"Dunno. Depends on how many cups of coffee I had." Damb shrugged, tapping his pen against his pencil, rolling it across the table littered with notepads and empty plates covered in crumbs. The woman carefully cleared a small space for herself and set her cup of coffee down, steam still trailing out of the tiny hole on the lid. Damb ordered another latte from the employee- who scowled at him for being too lazy to go up to the counter himself- and snatched up a tiny bite-sized bit of a scone he had missed from one of the many plates. "See, I've got two books out already. Neither was that good. You ever read Down by the Fight or Hatching Blows, miss?"

"I think I have seen one of them at the last bookstore I visited, but no, I haven't."

"See? No one wants to read them. They sucked, I admit it. But this time, I'm really going to blow the critics away." Damb frowned. "But I can't think of anything to write about."

"Have you ever considered drawing inspiration from a life experience?" she asked, slowly sipping from her cup.

"Oh yeah, because people would die to read about a little kid who goes fishing for trout every day."

"Elements can always be added in to make even the most boring plots interesting. Giant fish, lake monsters-"

"Lake monsters? You can't be talking about Sea Kings. No one likes Sea Kings."

"But what if people like the thrill?" the woman peered at him over the top of her coffee cup. Damb began tapping his pencil again, not acknowledging the boy who placed his latte before him.

"I got it. How about a haunted mansion with the vengeful ghost of a murder victim hell-bent on killing anyone who steps inside?"

"That plot is overused and cliché. No offense, of course."

"But people like that stuff. You said so."

"Why not try something new?" she smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "How about pirates?"

"Pirates? Hah, the newspapers already take care of that." Damb scoffed. He slurped up his latte, licking the foam around his lips. "Besides, what is there to write about those guys besides burning villages and stealing treasure? No one wants to read about those. No one except crazy teens and retired criminals. And even they don't read books."

"What about adventure?" the woman's eyes bore into Damb, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. "Adventure and dreams and achieving the impossible…"

"I don't write fantasy."

"What if none of it is fantasy anymore? What if everything you heard in legends is true? Maybe you just haven't been going outside as often as you should."

Damb stared at her blankly. He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Lady, I am not writing about One Piece if that's what you're implying. The Government Officials will have my head if I do."

The woman considered his words for a long moment of silence, slowly finishing off her coffee. Once the cup was empty, she scraped the chair back and stood up. "Well, it's been pleasant conversing with you. I wish you the best of luck on your story, Mr. Writer."

"Thanks." Damb dryly said, picking at his teeth with his pen. "I'll need it." He watched the strange woman leave the café and greet a copper-headed girl loaded with shopping bags before they both set off down the street. Hesitantly, Damb began to scribble on the blank sheet before him.

His hand stopped writing and he shook his head before crushing the filled up paper and dropping it into the bag by his foot.

Damn writer's block.

What, six more to post? Okay, I'll start posting the ones I did for set 1 after that. SO DON'T RUN OFF JUST YET, KIDDIES.
Reviews will be greatly appreciated.