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thewornoutandtired · 9 days

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Literally cannot emphasize enough that my #1 writing advice is to stop being afraid. Stop being afraid of sounding too cringe, or too stupid, or too horrifying, or too horny, or too weird, or too much, or too little, or too you. You need to put your entire pussy into your art. Sure, it won't be to everyone's tastes, but if you keep yourself to the blandest tamest safest roads possible you will be of no one's tastes, not even yours.

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thewornoutandtired · 1 month

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Honestly? My main piece of advice for writing well-rounded characters is to make them a little bit lame. No real living person is 100% cool and suave 100% of the time. Everyone's a little awkward sometimes, or gets too excited about something goofy, or has a silly fear, or laughs about stupid things. Being a bit of a loser is an incurable part of the human condition. Utilize that in your writing.

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Teratophilia: Sirens

As our ship neared the island, the captain warned us to plug our ears. He said he wouldn’t be sending any of his own men to come save us if we didn’t listen. The sirens were dangerous, and would surely bring death to whomever listened to their song.

I had my own theories about the sirens, however, and deemed not to cover my ears. Even if I did wind up stranded, ships passed by this area with rather alarming regularity considering how dangerous it was. I figured that I could survive that long, provided that I wasn’t drowned or eaten alive by the very creatures I was hoping to see.

When we were within range of the song, the effects were immediate. I was out on the deck, leaning on the railing and hoping to spot them through the mist surrounding the island. For a split second, I thought I caught a strange looking shadow in the gloom, but I wasn’t sure enough to call it for what it was.

The song appeared out of nowhere, promising me fame and power if I could only reach them and slay them. While their voices were pleasant, I had no desire to do such a thing, and I was able to resist the compulsion. They sang about the money and wealth that had been amassed on their island next, and that didn’t truly sway me either. It was when their song turned to promises of love, of caring, of being cherished, that I found myself leaping overboard without a second thought.

For someone as afraid of the ocean as I am, there was no fear in my heart as I began to swim through the waves. The sirens’ call seemed to change direction, with me following close behind it. In the still-conscious part of my brain, I took notice that they were leading me away from shipwrecks.

When I reached the sirens, they stopped singing just long enough for me to recognize that they had. The sirens looked precisely as the stories has said, birds with the faces of beautiful women, but with monstrous mouths full of sharp teeth. While I wasn’t upset by their appearance to begin with, as they started to sing again they were suddenly the most beautiful creatures in existence.

Their song changed tone slightly now that I stood before them. They were still singing about wanting to take care of me, but there was an undertone in it that wasn’t there before. Before I could even realize what was happening, I was undressing.

The sirens didn’t seem to have much desire in doing it themselves, instead telling me what they wanted me to do. I was sat down on the rocks in front of them, my legs spread wide in front of them all. In spite of the spell on me, I blushed from the intensity of their stares. It felt like I was being inspected by them, until finally they told me to start touching myself.

I was completely under their control as they treated me like an experiment. They constantly had me change positions, speed, and where I was touching myself. They seemed to enjoy my whining as I got close, as they’d wait until I was almost over the line and then make me completely stop. They did it over and over again, and I could feel myself losing more and more control each time. By the time they mercifully let me finish, I could barely even think strait. As I laid there, trying to remember my own name, I heard them start singing again.

They had me clean myself up, not wasting a single drop, then went about seeing how else they could bring me over the edge again. When they asked me where I was most sensitive, I answered before I could even think about it, like I had been given a truth serum. They seemed thrilled at that aspect of their spell, and proceeded to make me admit even more to them: fantasies, fears, and loves, nothing was off limits.

By the time they finished using the knowledge I had given them against me, I was too exhausted to even move. I was completely spent, and had finished dry several times. Even their song couldn’t rouse movement from me, and their singing changed again. The flow of irresistible orders faded, and a new chorus began.

They sang about making good on their words, how they would take care of me. The cleaned me off before snuggling in against me. I thought they were arguing about which one of them my head would rest on, but I was barely conscious enough to hear them at all. They gave me one last order, which I would have followed even without a spell underlying it.

“Sleep, little one.”

When I woke next, I was in a nest surrounded by bird women. According to them, I had started shivering from the cold night air and the ocean breeze, and they piled onto me to keep me warm. It had worked, and they were every bit as thrilled as I was. They said they would take care of me until the next ship came by, but that I couldn’t stay forever. When I asked them why, they didn’t answer, but that was okay. I told them I was theirs until then.

We lived peacefully for a while. They treated me like a toy at times, like a pet at others. Once they learned that I obeyed orders regardless, they started singing only when they wanted to see me do something for their enjoyment. They’d use me to their own satisfaction, whatever that was, then clean me and put me to bed.

It was a wonderful time, but I had to leave eventually.

The goodbye was tearful, and I told them that I would stop again if I was ever near this place again. They wished me well before commanding me to swim for the passing ship. The captain was shocked to see me, but was kind enough to clothe me and offer me space if I’d work off my debt. By the time we reached landfall, I had written the entirety of my adventure down.

There was a reason those that survived the sirens claimed they were very kind and nurturing.

#writing #creative writing #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #teratophillia #lemon #hitting the classic warnings with this one

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Teratophilia: Werewolves

I had known what I was looking for when I went into those woods. I had been warned off, told that there was a pack of bloodthirsty beasts, and they only got worse when the moon got full. I wanted nothing more than to see one of those monster wolves up close, so I waited until the full moon and went into the woods with nothing more than a few meager supplies.

What I hadn’t been expecting was for them to be as silent as they were ferocious. When the she-wolf pounced on me from behind, I had figured that I was dead then and there. She was going to tear me limb from limb and eat her fill of me. As I felt her claws on my shirt, I said a silent prayer to any god that might be listening, asking that it be over quickly.

Imagine my shock when, instead of digging her claws into my flesh, she merely cut up my shirt with that. My pants quickly followed, leaving me shivering in the cool forest air. She allowed me to roll over, and I got my first good look at her.

She was obviously more beast than human. Her eyes glowed a golden yellow, and her long strands of saliva hung between her long, white teeth. Her entire body was covered in thick, coarse, black fur from head to paw. Even though she could have been standing on two legs, she was crouched over me on all fours. I was still sure that I was going to be eaten alive when a peculiar scent reached my nose.

So that’s why they’re more active during the full moon, I thought as my nostrils filled with a heavy scent of arousal. Their heat cycle must have been coordinated with the lunar cycle.

I couldn’t help the reaction my own body had to her intoxicating scent, and I could swear that I saw her smile as my hardness made contact with where she wanted it the most. I could feel how damp her fur had gotten, and I swallowed thickly as I realized that she had me exactly where she wanted me.

She growled, a low bass noise that rattled my bones, and the fear within me reared its head with a demand that I run. As I tried to scramble out from underneath her, she put her two front paws on me and pinned me down. Even with my struggle fueled with raw panic, she held me down effortlessly.

The scent of her filled my nose as she kissed me, if it could even be called that. Her jaws were on either side of my head, and she forced her tongue into my mouth and down my throat. The feeling was so erotic, so filling, that I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me when she finally pulled back. Whether it was her intention or not, I had stopped struggling completely.

She cocked her head at me as if to say “isn’t that better?” right before sinking down onto me. She was warm, almost too warm to bear, as she started to ride me. She started out slowly, as if trying to take it easy on me, but she quickly lost her battle with self-restraint. Her pace was furious, the sound of our unholy union spreading throughout the forest.

My prayers to the gods rapidly changed from ending things quickly to lasting as long as possible, since I didn’t think she’d appreciate me going first. Fortunately, in a stroke of luck that I chalked up to her desperation, she reached the end of her rope first. She bit down on my shoulder as she clenched on me, and the pain mixed with the pleasure sent me over right after her. As we both came down from our respective highs, She released her vice grip on my shoulder. I could feel that I was bleeding, but there were more important things to worry about.

I had thought that one would be enough to satisfy her. What a fool I was. She didn’t even let me catch my breath, just starting again once she knew I had finished my first. I resumed struggling, the overstimulation of starting again so soon after my orgasm turning into a pleasurable kind of pain. It didn’t matter to her, however, as she took what she wanted from me. Again and again she brought herself over the edge, while it took longer for me each time. I was only half-conscious when I heard the sound of movement in the trees off to my left.

Another wolf approached me, this one obviously male. While it was smaller than the one currently on top of me, he was still easily a foot taller than myself. It must have been her mate, and dread filled me as I imagined what he would do now that he had caught us, even if I had been mostly unwilling in this union.

Instead of killing me, dropped to all fours over me. My nose was assaulted with a new smell, arousal of a different kind. I knew what he wanted from me, and I was neither foolish nor unwilling enough to disobey.

I opened my mouth.

He was larger, larger than any human I had ever seen, not that I was surprised. Like his mate, he also didn’t waste much time in seeing if I was comfortable. After making sure he could clear my teeth, he was down my throat. My gagging only seemed to spur him on as he rutted into me, and the feeling tipped me over the edge once again.

It wasn’t long until I felt his knot slapping against my lips. I knew he wouldn’t stop until he got it in, and I also knew that it would suffocate me if he succeeded. As a compromise, I reached up and squeezed it with both hands, giving the pressure he needed to erupt inside my throat. I thought I would drown, having to hold my breath with him buried as deep into my throat as he could get, but he pulled out just before I passed out.

Once I again, I hoped that one would be enough for him. Once again, I was proven wrong.

I lost track of time after that, caught in a web of pain, pleasure, and panic. When I had nothing left to give her, she took him. When he needed some aid, they used my tongue. When she was momentarily sated, he took me. I was helpless, passed between them like a toy, completely powerless to do anything but what they wanted. The nipped and scratched at me, seeming to take pleasure in the noises I made as they had their way with me. I lost myself in it all, babbling senselessly until I couldn’t talk any more at all.

When the first rays of dawn approached, the wolves finally put me down for good and took off into the woods. On shaky legs, I stood up and limped my way back to my home. I was covered in bite marks and scratches, my lips and hips and more bruised from the force of the wolves. My clothes had been torn to shreds, so I had to sneak through the streets so as not to be caught. After getting home, shower and sleep came first, then I began my normal routine.

Some of my marks were too visible to be covered, and I fielded questions for days about what happened. I just told them that I had survived not one, but two werewolf encounters. What kind of encounters weren’t any of their business.

I also wondered if the stories were true, now that I had been bitten. As the full moon approached, I never felt any difference in my body. No cravings or odd pains. My wounds had healed up fine over the last month, leaving behind almost no scars.

I told everyone else that I was going to even the odds when I set out into the woods again. This time, I remembered to pack spare clothes.

#writing #creative writing #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #teratophilia #lemon

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Awaken the Earth

When he awakened the Earth, It felt like he was being crushed. Gravity hit him like God had just dropped several large rocks on his back, and he struggled to stay standing up. He was strong, stronger than most of the people he knew, but the weight was too much on him. As his back began to bow, he heard cracking noises. The pain was so intense that he thought it was his bones, but he could see the rock below him had actually cracked.

He continued to struggle against the force pushing him down, and suddenly felt another force from below pushing him back up. He was caught between two boulders pushing In either direction, like the earth was chewing on him. His bones splintered into fragments. His lungs squeezed until he couldn’t inhale anymore. It felt like the very life was being squeezed out of him.

He screamed as he continued to push, putting everything he had left. His load seemed to lighten, just for a moment, before it came crashing back down on him. He felt himself go rigid, unable to move. He was Atlas, holding up the entire sky with a body that seemed to be steadily getting colder.

Am I dying? Passed through his brain, right before the darkness rushed up to greet him.

When he woke up, he was in the back of a truck. There wasn’t anyone in it with him, but he could feel the gentle sway as they moved. His hands and feet were cuffed together, forcing him to lie down on the trailer floor. Something about the truck’s motion made him nauseous, like he wasn’t properly anchored to the ground.

He took count of himself as he tried to remember what happened. The pain was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the feeling of his bones breaking, and glanced down at what he was sure would be his mangled legs. Instead, they seemed almost perfectly fine, aside from the fact that he could see layered stone encasing them. When he flexed his calf, the stones moved with them, and he could even see his pulse in them. A brief glance at the rest of him proved the same. His dark skin had been replaced by darker stone.

The truck screeched to a stop suddenly, sliding him along the floor until his back hit the front wall. Screaming came from the direction of the cab, and he could suddenly feel the inside of the trailer getting hotter. A roar that sounded more like it should have come from a dragon was followed by several ground shaking booms, and several smaller thumps against the side of the truck.

The sound of metal being torn apart attacked his ears, and the back doors to the truck opened. There, backlit by the afternoon sun, was a girl.

“Found him!” She shouted towards somebody he couldn’t see. As she stepped closer, he got a better look at her. Her eyes were a deep, dark blue, and her teeth were jagged triangles in her mouth. The most striking thing, however, was the tail that seemed to be made of water attached to the end of her spine.

“The girl was quickly joined by a boy, with lines of fire crisscrossing his body and smoke pouring off of him. The girls tail started to steam as he walked by her and offered him a hand.

“Already awake, huh?” The boy said, an impressed look on his face. “You must be crazy strong. I passed out for hours when I got my powers.”

“Same here,” The girl chimed in. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the sound of sirens in the distance caught all of their attentions. “We should go.”

“Go where?” The young man grabbed the boys offered hand. He noticed how warm it felt to him, even though nothing had felt warm or cold since he woke up. As he reached his feet, pain ripped up his legs as his bones seemed to sheer against each other. He almost fell back down.

“Guess you’re not immune to all the side effects.” The boy said, half-carrying him outside. “I’ll explain everything I know on the way.”

The three of them stepped into the bright sunlight, and the young man was shocked by the carnage that surrounded him. Cars overturned and on fire, scorch marks on the road, and dozens of people lying unconscious.

Had they done this that quickly?

As his two rescuers led him to the only undamaged car around, he wondered what exactly they were, and why they were helping him. He figured he’d find out on the way.

#writing #creative writing #awaken

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Rescued

Waking up in the early 1300’s was an unwelcome surprise. I had taken enough history courses that I knew what was coming. I also knew the best places to avoid it, but I had to have a certain amount of money saved up for that trek. Knowing what I was best at, I joined the Edwardian War, quickly proving myself as a tactician and warrior, I became a captain at a young age. I stood on the front lines with my men, rushing into battle on foot rather than horseback. We became a group of routiers known as the Devil Fangs, and though I never allowed the pillaging others did, we were still quite handsomely paid.

It wasn’t until my group met its match that I found you. We survived, all of us severely wounded, and I found myself being taken care of by you.

“You were easy to find.” You smiled at me, and the ache in my chest had nothing to do with the stab wound. “Your name seems to follow you like a shadow.”

We laughed at that, knowing the truth of the statement. For all our lives at that point, there was always a Fang.

After my wounds healed, I left the service of the crown, citing injuries, and tried to get us as far away as I could. You knew as well as I did what was coming, which is why you had gone into medicine. You had studied enough to know how we could protect ourselves.

By the time the black plague consumed our society, we lived on a farm kilometers away from anyone else. We had animals and grain and my men as farmhands, allowing us all to live freely. Our life was hard, but honest and fair. Worried about our times, we were careful to avoid children this time.

We survived the plague, using our unique mix of hindsight and foresight to make sure we were washing regularly, and keeping rats away from our farm. My men were most grateful, but they soon grew bored and left once we knew it was safe. As for you and I, we were more than happy to live alone.

Like all good things, our life had to come to an end. Life expectancy was short then, and we passed from a sickness I couldn’t name. The fevers and sweats we had brought us both low quickly enough that I’m not sure who went first.

Of course, our last words were simple.

“I’ll see you next time.”

#writing #creative writing #love #time and time again #reincarnation

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Swapped

The first time our positions were swapped. I was born an aristocrat, my father a wealthy merchant. I grew up learning everything I could from him, from my letters to ethical business practices. I took to it quicker than the old man expected, probably at least in part due to all of my other experiences in other lives. It wasn’t long until I was running the front of the shop with him, younger even than other children my age were.

As I grew up, I continually kept my eyes peeled for any sign of you. Growing up, I only ever saw the other merchant children. Once I started helping along in the shop, I started watching customers. Still, there was never any sign of you.

As times went on and on, I became a successful businessman in my own right, using the opportunities for travel as a means to widen my search. I traveled alone so I could go where I pleased, even though it put a target on my back. I killed enough highwaymen that I earned a reputation, both for my ferocity and for my handmade weapon. Once other people began asking for versions of it, I gave them the name: the fang.

Imagine my surprise when I returned home from one such venture to meet the new servant girl our house had brought in. It must have shocked the daylights out of my mother when I kneeled in front of you, old habits dying hard even after all this time.

When I stood and held your face in mine, my father finally spoke up, asking what was going on. Luckily for us, my parents were stout believers in love at first sight, after experiencing it themselves ages ago. I merely told them that I was struck by her immediately. While they may not have been thrilled that I fell in love with a servant girl, you were the only girl I had ever shown any interest in whatsoever, so they gave their full support.

Our lives were busy, busy enough that we only ever had one child. I refused to leave you behind when I traveled, even when it was through dangerous areas. I protected you as fiercely as I ever had, and the bandits soon learned that though I was getting older and now had other people with me, I was no weaker.

I also took advantage of our extremely long amounts of alone time to teach you how to defend yourself, even in the ridiculous dresses that you frequently wore. You never had to, and I made sure you were never touched, but just in case. You didn’t take to it easily, but you were good enough to take an enemy by surprise and make sure they stayed down.

It was on one of my few solo trips that I finally met my end. You had stayed home with our son to prepare for the holidays, and I left for a quick delivery. The blizzard that blew in was uncharacteristically harsh, but I thought I was too. I figured I would make it back in time, but a patch of ice sent me over the road.

I never felt myself hit the bottom, and I never got to say goodbye. You told me later that it took two weeks to find me, but you and our son took care of the business just as good as I had. You lived contentedly, but you were never happy without me. I understood, and promised not to do it again.

#writing #creative writing #love #time and time again #reincarnation

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Same Old Times

The next time I woke up, my memories were fuzzy at best. I could remember you, and had flashes of our old lives, but they didn’t seem to make sense with anything else I was seeing. The clothes and electronics I could remember didn’t even exist yet, and wouldn’t for several hundred years, and I had no way to explain them.

Unfortunately, I was dumb enough to ask my parents about it, which very quickly led to me being moved into the church. The bishops seemed to think that I had been born with a vision of an angel from the way I talked about you. It led to a quick advancement due to the ferocity with which I was studying. I needed to find the answers, and this seemed like the best place.

Eventually, as seemed to always happen, conflict found me. A Holy War, and I wasn’t going to back down from the face of an enemy that sought to destroy myself, my brothers, and everything we had ever known. The years of study and training paid off as I tore through any who sought violence. My speed and skill quickly earned me my new name.

The Fangs of God. Or Fang, for short.

When we returned, I was given a comfortable life beyond what I could have expected. I was given an estate just off the grounds of the church, and the money both the church and the government gave me was more than enough for the means with which I lived. The rest, I spread amongst the needy, if they would allow me to talk to them about God. They were more than willing to listen, and as time went on, they’d show up to talk to me about it anyways.

It was on one of these occasions that you found me again. You had retained all of your memories, and had been looking for me as much as you were able to. While you weren’t able to travel as freely as you would have liked, saying you were making a pilgrimage to see the Fangs of God gave you a lot of leeway. When you found me, our eyes met, and all of my own memories came back. I bowed before you despite myself, drawing a gasp from the assembled crowd. You sat to my right as I finished my sermon, then we left together.

I wasn’t a priest, so I was able to take a wife. Our marriage held the biggest gathering the town had ever seen, with people coming from all over to see the one I proclaimed my personal angel. Afterwards, we lived a quiet life. I continued my mission, even if my faith wasn’t the same as it had been, and you often attended with me, adding your own touch of mysticism to my teachings.

We lived together until trouble again came knocking at our door. Members of the clergy were displeased with me, with everything from proclaiming you and angel to teaching without being a priest to allowing you to teach with me. My guess at the time was that they were most upset by my stories of being good, having faith, and only giving what you can to the church. I didn’t realize until later that there was apparently a public outcry in Rome to have me considered for sainthood upon my death, and that certainly upset a good number of bishops.

They broke down our door, proclaiming you a witch and me and a demon. It took a good number of bodies to stop me, but we were eventually captured, and sentenced to death. While the people I had been teaching rioted, you and I were executed, burned at the stake for crimes we didn’t commit.

The last words I spoke were simple.

“I’ll see you next time. I love you, my princess.”

#writing #creative writing #love #time and time again #reincarnation

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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The First Time Again

The second time we met, times were relatively easier. The 20th century was certainly an easier life than our original one. However, high school still sucked. I’d haver gone through it a thousand more times if it meant meeting you every time though.

You were a transfer, and I was immediately struck by how gorgeous you were. In such a small school, we were by each other a lot, but you were always so absorbed with your drawings, and I was always reading. Eventually, however, something caught your eye.

“Hey Fangs!” One of my friends yelled, using a nickname from a time in middle school where I wore vampire fangs every day. The name had always felt right to me, so I never bothered fighting it. “You ready for the test today?”

“Always!” I hollered back. As I settled back to my book though, I noticed you staring at me. Your expression told me something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. “What is it?”

“Fang?” Your voice was quiet, broken, but it shattered my world. All of a sudden I could remember everything. The castle, the fighting, you.

Before I could even consciously realize it, I was kneeling in front of you.

“My princess.” I said, my voice not holding quite the same baritone that it had before.

“Rise, my Fang.” You said, a regality to your voice that told me you had remembered as well.

Suddenly I could hear laughter, and I realized where and when we were. It didn’t matter though, because I had you. We were inseparable almost instantly, and I think everybody could tell that we were in love. Not that they could have guessed for how long.

Those next few years may have been the best ones, by my measure. From high school sweethearts to college fiancés, to husband and wife. Our kids were beautiful, and growing up quicker than I could have ever expected them to. That’s why it came as such a shock when you got sick.

I did everything I could, as did the doctors, but there was nothing to be done. I watched you waste away, holding our children close. When your time got near, I swore that I’d find you again. I’d find you every time.

“It’s a date, my Fang.” You smiled at me for the last time, and then you were gone.

I finished raising our kids alone, spurning any woman that dared look in my direction. They weren’t you, and so they didn’t matter. As the kids got older and moved off, I decided to throw myself into my work.

In the end, death came as a surprise for me too. I was working alone, when my chest got tight. I didn’t panic, merely accepted what was to come. I had my affairs in order.

I greeted death as a new opportunity, and looked forward to finding you again.

#writing #creative writing #love #time and time again #reincarnation

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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The First Time

The first time we met was ugly. I was an assassin, coming to take your head. I had a been spotted by a guard, and had torn my way through a dozen soldiers on my way to you. When I finally got to your chambers, I stopped cold. You were ready to defend yourself with what little you could do. Where you had gotten that longsword from I’ll never know, but I remember how ridiculous you looked. It was painfully obvious that you had never used that weapon before, and yet, you looked completely unafraid of me. I was covered in the blood of your guards, wearing a wolf mask under my black cloak. I was straight out of people’s nightmares, and yet the sparkle in your eyes seemed to say that I was a dream come true.

“Hello, princess.” I sheathed my sword. “Some of your family wants you dead.”

“My uncle.” You said matter-of-factly, like it was an open secret.

“Your uncle.” I agreed.

You sat back on your bed, laying your sword beside you, and gestured toward an empty seat. “Sit.”

I did as you commanded, removing my cloak so it wouldn’t ruin the fabric and sitting. A plan for how to get out of this alive was rapidly coming into place in my head. I couldn’t kill you, and I couldn’t just run or I’d be a doomed man.

A thunder of running feet and yelling preceded the approach of your father and his personal guard, come to check on the darling of the castle. Instead of the bloodbath they had probably been expecting, they were met with the sight of the young princess talking with the man who had to have been sent to kill her.

“Your Highness,” I began, “Somebody really wants your daughter dead, and your guards are sloppy from complacency.”

“Who are you, assassin, and who exactly wants my daughter dead?” The kind was always said to be a wise and kind man, and how quickly he put his emotions in check and spoke to me on equal footing proved the truth of those statements.

“I don’t have a true name, sire.” I removed my mask, giving the king a clear view of my face. I could see the shock of all present when they realized I was barely older than the princess. “The only name I’ve ever gone by is Fang.”

“Well then, Fang the Assassin,” The king started. “Who hired you to kill my daughter?”

“Your brother.”

“Do you have proof of this?” The king’s façade of calm was failing him. I could see the muscle along his jaw ripple as he failed not to rush out and gut his brother immediately.

“Your proof will come soon enough, sire. He wished to kill your himself, so he is likely to find you while you’re supposed to be mourning the loss of your daughter.”

“I see.” The king turned away with all the dignity a man in his night clothes could muster. “Gentlemen, I shall be mourning my daughter if anyone needs me. Fang, with me.”

The only crowned head that flew that evening was the king’s brother, and I was suddenly made your protector. Fang the Assassin became Fang the Knight, and eventually Fang the Raven. While I never abandoned my mask or my cloak, I did take to wearing armor beneath it at your insistence. The fact that you stayed by my side the entire time I healed from my wounds convinced me that you had my best wishes in mind.

Over time, our simple relationship grew more complicated. Well wishes for a good night’s rest became quiet pleas of “stay with me”. Loyalty became devotion, which eventually became love. As your protector, I already followed you everywhere, so nobody blinked when we began sneaking off together to be alone. You were my everything, and I would have given anything to protect you.

But of course, I wasn’t royalty. We could never truly be together, not that it stopped us. The myriad of suitors you had all fell short of your expectations, and you planned to take the crown for yourself. Some of your would-be husbands, however, weren’t pleased with that.

When war eventually came knocking on our doorstep, I swore to defend you and the kingdom that had given me everything. I tore my way through anyone who approached me during the day, defending an entrance almost entirely alone. During the night, I’d return to my business of assassination, collecting generals’ heads like I was picking flowers.

It wasn’t enough, however. I found myself surrounded, one day, captured, and set to be executed. They brought me in front of you, where those men proclaimed that you would be nothing more than a concubine. They planned to take you in front of me, but they were fools.

I slipped my bonds, like I had always planned to, and tore them limb from limb like the rabid animal I had always known I was. It didn’t do much good, however, as we were surrounded by armed soldiers afterwards.

“It would appear this is the end, my princess,” I said, knowing there was no way out for me.

“A final command, my loyal knight.” You said, drawing my eyes. “Me first.”

I knew what you meant, and I hated you for it. However, I knew she was right, and I wasn’t going to disobey her final order. I broke her neck before anyone else could so much as move, and then I held your dying body.

“I love you, my princess.” I whispered, tears rolling down my face and landing on hers.

“I love you too, my Fang.” You mouthed it, not even able to breathe.

I screamed when I felt your body go limp, and the soldiers around me suddenly realized what exactly they were facing. I had nothing to lose and nothing to live for as I rushed them. I couldn’t tell you how many of them I killed, or how many wounds I took in the process, but I was eventually brought low. My world faded, and all I could think was how much I hoped to see you again.

#writing #creative writing #love #time and time again #reincarnation

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thewornoutandtired · 2 months

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Time and Time Again

I didn’t believe in reincarnation until the second time I met you. When all the memories came flooding back to me, and the look in your eyes said you were having the same experience. From then on, I made it my mission to find you every single time I woke up to a new life. It was my purpose. You were my purpose.

We chased each other through time, treating it like a game. From the darkest days to the Renaissance, from the Hundred Years War to the Great War to the Cold War, from “Ancient History” to the current “Modern Day”, we’d find each other. We knew each other the moment our eyes met, and our love burned as fiercely as it had the first time we said it.

Our power dynamic changed over the years, from a princess and her knight to a noble and his servant to a duchess and her slave, but we always knew where we stood. We’d play our roles for the time being, but we both knew I was always going to protect and take care of you.

You always knew to look for me wherever violence was being had, and I knew to look for the most out of place people on my battlefields. My eyes were always open for a splash of clean skin in the middle of the dirt and grime that surrounded me, and you once jokingly claimed you just “followed the bodies” to wherever I was. Wherever we found each other, however we found each other, Whenever we found each other. Time and time again, I’d look for you.

#writing #creative writing #reincarnation #I'm not dead!#To the probably zero of you that read this blog #I started a new job #and it made writing impossible #but it's getting easier #time and time again

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thewornoutandtired · 4 months

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someone: hey I noticed this thing you did in your writing!

me, kicking my feet up flirtatiously: oh??? do you want to hear my thoughts on why I did that? do you want a play-by-play of the language choices in every related sentence? do you want an exhaustive breakdown of The Themes???

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thewornoutandtired · 4 months

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Waking Up

When I first woke up, nothing looked familiar. I wasn't in my room, or a classroom, or any of my friends' houses. The bed felt uncomfortable under me, like it was much thinner than any of my other ones. I finally opened my eyes, looking up at a ceiling that was dimly lit by a light I couldn't see. The bare, off-white ceiling had a brownish stain on it that my half-asleep brain told me was an eevee.

Wait? Where the fuck am I?

The realization hit me like a freight train, and I sat up quick enough that I got dizzy for a second. As I fought the gnaw of panic inside me, I took in my surroundings.

The entire room was the same off-white color, save the fake wood flooring. I was laying in a twin bed in one corner, my feet hanging off the end, with a single sheet and blanket covering me. There were two chairs against the wall opposite me with a nightstand between myself and them, a window with built-in shades just past the foot of my bed, a nightlight built into the far-right corner, and a door with a little window in the far left. The room had no decorations, no electronics, no signage or any clue as to where I was.

Where the hell was I? The last thing I could remember was...getting into a fight? I remembered yelling, arguing with someone or someones, and then everything was black. My arms hurt, but I couldn't remember how I had injured them.

I tried to crawl out of bed, and realized that my right wrist wouldn't come with me. I pulled the covers back and saw a set of handcuffs locking chaining me to a rail on the bed. I also realized that I was wearing clothes I didn't recognize. I had never owned a pair of sweatpants or a t-shirt in this shade of grey. The long sleeves of shirt were really scratchy on the inside, like they had some kind of padding, and I figured that must be what was hurting me.

A shadow passed by the window, and I tried to call out to it. My voice was hoarse, like I had either been screaming nonstop or hadn't spoken in days. All that came out was a raspy croaking noise, but apparently it was enough. The door opened.

In walked an old woman wearing scrubs. She smiled at me as she flipped on the lights, but I saw it falter when she looked at my face. My rising panic must have been showing.

"How are you feeling, dearie?" She asked me. Her voice reminded me of my grandmother. It was soothing, and I could actually feel myself getting calmer.

"Where am I?" I managed to choke out, my voice still sounding like I'd been smoking since I was born.

"You're in the hospital, dearie, do you really not remember?" the nurse asked me, kneeling next to my bedside. She pulled a remote out of the nightstand as I shook my head. "I'm sorry for that, dearie. Would you like some water?"

I nodded enthusiastically at that, and the nurse pushed a button on the remote. It made a beeping noise, and she showed it to me.

"This here is a remote just for you. This one calls the nurse's station, these two control the temperature in your room, and this one is the nightlight.

A second nurse entered the room, this one a man who was probably in his thirties. He handed the nurse a cup of water and a smaller cup that rattled. The lady nurse handed me the water and let me take a couple of awkward sips using my left hand before she handed me the other one.

There were three pills in the cup, two oblong white ones and a circular blue one. I looked at the nurse in confusion, but she merely nodded.

"Take them please, dearie. It's important that you do."

I swallowed all three down, juggling the pill cup with the water cup before looking at the nurse again. "What were they?"

"One antipsychotic, one antidepressant, and one sedative." She said primly.

"You're knocking me out?"

"You're supposed to be out for another two days while your arms and insides heal, dearie. The next time you wake up, press the call button and either I or the doctor will come see you, okay?"

"Can I ask one more question?" I asked, already feeling groggy from the sedative.

"I suppose one more won't hurt." The nurse smiled kindly at me.

"Why am I chained to the bed?"

"Because you hurt people, dearie, and the police are afraid that you might escape or try to hurt me or someone else."

The shock from what she told me couldn't stop the chemicals from dragging me down, but her words did echo into my dreams.

#writing #thoughts from the asylum #I plan on doing a little series about this #but who knows

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thewornoutandtired · 4 months

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Storms

People are storms, or at least that's what they always say. They come into your life on a calm day, turn your entire life upside down, and leave you picking up the broken pieces and wondering why it had to be you. I can't say that they're wrong, but I think it could be a little more specific than that.

Meeting you was a thunderstorm. It was already raining, and I was stood out in a field trying to imagine what could make life better again. In a flash of light, you came into my life. I couldn't help but be shocked that you would even consider being with someone like me.

Loving you was a wildfire. All it took was a spark, and we were unstoppable. We were a blazing inferno of pure love. Everything about you was hot, from your looks to your kiss to your skin against mine. I was burning alive, but I was too in love to notice.

Life with you was an earthquake. Always something happening to shake it up, and never with any warning. We were living on a fault line. Things were falling and breaking, the foundation was cracking, but I found myself ignoring it. I thought that it didn't matter, as long as I had you.

Losing you was a tornado. The sudden shift of the winds told me what was coming. The skies turned the color of an old bruise, and for the first time, I saw it coming. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, or run. It was huge, it was coming right for me, and it was going to hurt. I tried to shelter as best as I could, save the valuables, and hope.

Being left by you was a blizzard. The sudden cold snap left me breathless. I was blind, I was alone, and I had no idea where I was or what to do. Everything I knew had disappeared. Everything inside of me wanted to curl up and let it bury me.

Once it was over, I looked around and finally saw the devastation. Everything that I had ever known was destroyed. My entire life strewn about and broken. I couldn't even imagine what I was going to do next. How could I go on?

#writing #creative writing #love #breakup #relationship

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thewornoutandtired · 4 months

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Awaken the Waves

When she awakened the waves, she thought she was drowning. The ocean poured from inside of her, filling her lungs. Her blood became saltwater, and her brown eyes turned darker than the North Sea. Water started to pour into the room from seemingly nowhere.

She tried to scream, for help or from the pain she didn't know, but she couldn't seem to get any oxygen to do so. She thought it was because of the water in her lungs, but she found out as the water got over her head it was the opposite. She took a deep breath of water before screaming, her voice creating ripples in the water but no bubbles.

The pain started to overwhelm her. It felt like the saltwater was tearing into her muscles, her veins, her heart. The pain was so intense that she panicked, realizing that she needed an escape. The ran towards the door, the water seeming to push her along, and she yanked the door open.

When the water rushed out of the room, she took a deep breath of air, and the pain immediately intensified. She coughed, water mixing with blood as it tore into her throat. She passed out.

When she woke up, she was in an aquarium. The room was empty except for the colossal tank that contained her. The back of the tank was a mirrored wall, and she got her first look at herself. She had thin blue lines on her neck that flexed like gills, and a shimmering, translucent shark tail connected to the end of her spine. When she opened her mouth, her teeth resembled a shark's.

There was no top to her tank, and she swam to the top to get a better view. The room was dark, with a single closed door at the far end. Breathing the air hurt, but not so bad as it had before. The door opened, and she could see the silhouette of a single person enter.

"How do you feel?" The person asked, the shadows slowly revealing a man. He smiled at her as he walked right up to the glass.

She tried to speak but found that it was difficult. She swam to the bottom of her tank and looked at the man closer. He didn't look much older than her. His brown hair was cut short, and his eyes were as red as fire. He had lines that looked like they contained molten lava crisscrossing his skin.

"Well?" he asked, his voice muffled by the water she was in. "Can you understand me?"

"I can," she responded. Her voice sounded clear to her own ears, but she wasn't sure if it would to him. "Can you hear me?"

"I can. Now stand back, I need to get you out of here before anybody finds out I'm in here."

She took several steps backwards as the man put one hand on the glass. She watched as the lines on his palms began glowing brighter. The water around where his hands were started to boil, and she could feel the heat even from several paces away.

He has powers? she thought, shock hitting her like somebody had dropped a toaster in her tank. He was like her.

Then, the glass shattered all around him. All the water in her tank went rushing out, but she remained still. Any water that hit him instantly began to steam, and she noticed that he remained perfectly dry.

"Nice tail," he said, offering her a hand.

She turned to look at the mirror again, and noticed that her tail was still there, and appeared to be made of hardened water. She coughed, then grimaced at the pain.

"Still hurts?" He asked. She nodded. "Mine do too. It get's easier though. I'll teach you."

She took his hand, and he led her out of the room and into a new life.

#writing #creative writing #awaken

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thewornoutandtired · 5 months

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Awaken the Flames

When he awakened the flames, everything burned. His skin, his bones, his soul, all swallowed up by a fire with no ignition source. His skin was traced with lines of liquid fire that radiated out from his heart. His bones turned to kindling, nothing more than fuel kept aglow by the heat surrounding them. His soul was carbonized, ash turned to embers radiating a heat so strong that it threated to consume him.

The pain was so intense that he couldn't bear it. The fire was inside of him, nipping at his heart and lungs, and it needed a way out or he'd lose his mind. He screamed, and the flames burst forth, destroying everything around him. The pain didn't subside like he thought it would; it got worse. His screams got higher, louder, until darkness overtook him.

When he woke, the first thing he noticed was the pain. It wasn't the blistering agony it had been, but it was still a white-hot ball of suffering in his core. The next thing he noticed was that the room around him was blackened and charred, virtually unrecognizable as the pristine landscape it had been.

He pushed himself off the ground, noticing that his hands left black marks on the already scorched floor. A glance at his hands showed that they looked normal, save the thin lines of liquid fire racing through them. He wiggled his fingers, noting that flames danced between them when he did so.

He walked to the door on unsteady feet, just barely making it outside when he heard the sirens. Somebody had to have noticed the fire and called it in. He knew that nobody would believe that it wasn't his fault.

He ran.

#writing #creative writing #awaken

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thewornoutandtired · 5 months

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New Year, New Start

Yet another year passes, like a bottle at a party,

I keep pushing forward, always staying hearty.

My love left me behind, after breaking me in two,

As HU said, dark hearts don't break, they bruise.

I lost friends and family, but I found some more,

I now have a flock, who I love to my core.

My job keeps growing, with pay and skills too,

Even as other chances pop up to be viewed.

I pour out a drink, even though its cliche,

For the loved, and the lost, and those found on the way.

#writing #creative writing #poetry #this is bad #but Im not apologizing

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