the-modern-typewriter - Tumblr blog

[the-modern-typewriter]

how many asks do you have in your inbox lol it’s gotta be so many

1852

In case any of you feel bad about your inboxes :p

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! Could you do a sorcerer has been working under a king (or something) for a really long time, and the king is really stone cold and kinda emotionless, but one day a spell/potion goes wrong and the sorcerer gets injured, making the king realize he actually kinda likes the kid? (Sorry about the weirdly specifc-ness)

“You’re avoiding me,” the sorcerer rasped. They’d woken up in quarters far removed from the bookish sparsity of their own, in a bed softer than any that they’d ever slept in during all of their long years of service, with the best doctors on hand and servants waiting hand and foot. 

But they hadn’t seen the king once. 

It shouldn’t have stung. The king was an exceptionally busy man, he didn’t have time to sit at the bedside of injured sorcerers stupid enough to get themselves blown up. 

It still stung more than the explosion had and that had bloody hurt. 

“Thought you’d yell at me, at least,” they continued, recklessly. “What, I screw up once and you can’t even be bothered to do that?” 

“You should be in bed, resting,” the king said. “You were badly injured.”

“Did your reports tell you that? You saved my life and now you haven’t even asked me how I’m feeling.”

The king stared at him, as damnably blank as ever. “How are you feeling?” he asked.  

Cool. Formal. Polite. 

“I mean, my skin’s mostly grown back. So there’s that.” They were being ungrateful. By all accounts that they’d heard - from everyone but the king - his royal highness had been dangerously close when the explosion hit. It had been a few minutes off regicide. They could have got a traitor’s noose instead of a hospital bed. At least a traitor’s noose might get emotional. 

“Let me escort you back to your room,” the king said. His hand settled feather-light on the sorcerer’s arm to steady him. 

“I’m fine, thank you my king.” 

“You’re not fine, you nearly died.” It lashed out of the king’s mouth, loud and sharp enough that the sorcerer startled. 

They’d never heard the king raise his voice. He was the king; why would he ever need to? 

“You nearly died,” the king said, quieter. His face seemed abruptly exhausted, abruptly haunted, abruptly so many things. “No. You died. I had to restart your heart. I could barely stand to look at you, you were so hurt. I still can’t.”

“I - what?” No one had said anything about that. 

The king closed his eyes. Breathed in, breathed out. When he opened them again, he seemed as steady and implacable as ever. 

“My king,” a voice came down the corridor, harried. “The Ambassador-”

“Tell him I’ll be a little late,” the king said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Sire.” Footsteps clipped away.

The sorcerer stared, mind whirling. But just for a second there he hadn’t been implacable. He’d been anything but.

“Oh,” they said, dumbly. 

The king took the sorcerer's arm again, taking their aching weight easily onto himself. “Bed,” he said. “We’ll talk when you’re better.” 

“Didn’t you know?” One of the nurses frowned, later. “When you were unconscious, he didn’t leave your sight for a minute. I thought you knew. He was worried sick. Blood all over his ceremonial robes, never seen anything like it.” 

Oh. 

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!!! I've been a super big fan of yours for ages I absolutely adore your writing and keep coming back to it regularly. I was just wondering though, there's a snippet (or prompt? It might have been old enough to be a prompt but I think it was too long for that) I remember reading and I'm almost 100% sure I read on your blog but that I can't find. (I also combined with another one of your snippets that I have been able to find and I don't know how much was from one and how much from the other and what from my own head so it's very confusing.)

What I remember of the snippet I'm looking for was that it's during a revolution and the leader of the revolution is asking the very recently widowed queen (he killed the king) to marry him to give his claim legitimacy. She agreed on the clear understanding that she would be the ruler and he would let her alone and there was a phrase about it being a devil's bargain but at least it was her bargain.

Thank you so so much in advance and thank you for your writing it's truly incredible!!!

- @fablemonger-ao3

This one maybe?

And then this is the devil's bargain on maybe?

[the-modern-typewriter]

If anyone wants to read a free sapphic short story I wrote about Medusa :)

Here's the opening:

With hindsight in mind, if I was ever turned into stone again I would definitely pick a different pose. Though, with hindsight in mind, I don’t think she’d have turned me into a rock either. Not then.

I’m on my knees.

She was on her knees too, the last time we officially spoke. She’d just raced out of the temple, heaving sobs so shattering I thought she might choke on them. She raked her hands over the writhing mass of her hair, but for each hungry mouth she covered, another twisted past her fingers like a story thread refusing to be cut.

“What happened?!”

“Don’t look at me.” She curled crumpled on the grass. “Just go away!”

“They’re not so bad,” I said. “They’re – pretty.”

“They’re hideous! I look hideous.”

The serpents hissed their indignation. They really were glorious, those snakes. They weren’t just one colour or one type, but a vast explosion of mottled blues and yellows and greens. They were resplendent in the light – just like her.

“I like them.” I stepped forward, despite the uncertain hammering of my heart. I knelt down in front of her; determined to prove that, no matter what happened, I wasn’t afraid. Not of her. Never of her. “Hey. Hey. C’mere.”

“No.” She reared back. The snakes shifted too, flaring, fanged. “No, don’t – I don’t – the snakes—”

“—They’re you. They won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know you.”

She gulped, snorting a slightly hysterical sound that might have been a laugh. She dragged the back of her hand trembling over her eyes.

“I know you,” I said again, softer.

I reached out, gently brushing the tears from her damp cheeks. Her skin was cracked and almost unrecognisable beneath my touch, but the snakes did not attack. They settled like I was the sun and they were basking. I felt their tongues flicker across me, felt the nuzzle of their many heads, craning for me in the way that she never would as a priestess of Athena. It made my chest ache. It gave me courage to match all of the great heroes.

“I know you and I love you,” I said. “So whatever’s happened—”

Her head snapped up to look at me.

“You love me?” she echoed.

Then she realised what she’d done. Then she realised what she could do.

The rest, as they say, is untold history.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey so, I was wondering if you could do a f/f hero x villain snippet, where the hero is in a super secret relationship with the villain, but, despite the villain explicitly having other goals, betrayed and used the hero, the hero still loved her? Until one day the hero gets so tired of it that she leaves the city without a single world and villain goes after her? sorry if its too specific

"Where are you going?"

Part of the hero had expected it, but it still didn't make it any easier to hear that voice in her motel room. Her shoulders tensed. She kept her gaze trained firmly on unzipping her bag.

"Hey." The villain's voice sharpened. She crossed the room, taking hold of the hero's wrist. "You can't just leave. What the hell?"

The hero yanked her hand back. Her head snapped up.

The villain stopped, at whatever expression it was that she saw on the hero's face. She wet her lips. "Look," she said, gentler. "This is silly. Just come home, alright? We can talk about this."

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Baby-"

"Don't." The hero's jaw clenched. "Don't you even." The hero looked back down again, pulling out her toiletries and night clothes. It was easier than looking at the villain; flaying herself raw with the memories and the longing and the awful truths that she should have accepted so very long ago. "Just go. If you ever loved me, just go. Please."

For a second, she thought that might work. At least, she'd thought the villain might temporarily back off, maybe get another room and try again in the morning.

(She wasn't sure if that would be a confirmation of love or the lack of it. Did it matter anymore?)

The villain crouched down in front of her, studying the hero's face. Her eyes flickered.

"I really hurt you this time, huh?"

The hero swallowed.

They'd had so many arguments, the villain and her. There had been times when she'd been furious that the villain simply couldn't seem to change her ways, change her plans, not even for the sake of the two of them. There had been yelling and cold demands and promises to do better. Apologies pressed on honeyed lips.

"We're more important than the world," the villain had said, kissing the hero's head. "You're my world now."

But that hadn't been true.

There had been times when she'd broke her heart over the villain. She'd wondered if it was her fault, somehow. If she needed to try harder, love better. She'd wondered just how bad things had once been for the villain to so compulsively choose victory over kindness. Revenge over love. Her plans, over the hero.

"Of course I love you," the villain had snapped. "I just don't see why love means I'm the only one who has to change. What about you? You're not perfect! Crying in an argument is super manipulative, you know?"

All that was left was tiredness. A hollow exhaustion.

"Yeah," the hero said. "You win."

"This isn't what I wanted."

"Well, now you know what it's like to have your lover not care about about what you want."

"You care." The villain said it with such certainty. She reached out to cradle the hero's jaw in her hands, delicate, like she was incapable of any pain she might cause. "You've never been able to stop caring. You're caring right now."

"Maybe. But I'm still done."

The villain's grip tightened.

"You're not done. We can't be done."

"Go home."

"Not without you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" The villain's eyes turned stormy. "You're mine. I'm yours. We belong together."

"And do you still find it good? Us?"

The villain stopped short again, as if she hadn't expected the question, as if she hadn't even considered it. Her hands dropped to her sides.

"You used me," the hero said. "I loved you and you used me. Do you understand that?"

The villain stared at her, uncertain in the face of the hero's tone. The tectonic shift of it. "I love you."

The hero shrugged.

"You don't love me anymore, is that it?" the villain demanded. "Because I don't believe that for a second."

"Sure, I love you."

"So come home. Baby." The villain surged to bestow a kiss to the hero's forehead, as if enough sweetness could once again wash away all that was bitter, or at least sufficiently mask the taste of the poison. "We've got over worse than this before. It's just how we are, you know? We fight. We make up. We don't just - you don't just leave."

The hero had wanted to simply slip away. Let it go without another fight she wasn't sure her heart had the energy for anymore. Of course the villain would never allow that.

There was always a final battle, wasn't there?

And the villain would stay no matter how cruel the hero was to her in turn. It was the way of her. But the hero didn't want to be cruel. She'd never wanted that.

"I don't think we're good," the hero said. "I don't think we've been good for a long time now."

"I'll be better."

"You never are though, are you?"

The villain swallowed. Tears flooded her eyes.

"I spent so long thinking that my love wasn't enough." The hero reached up, despite herself, to wipe those once-in-a-lifetime tears away from the villain's cheeks. Then she stood, looming over her very own perfect monster. "But it was. I was. And yours just isn't anymore."

The hero plucked up her things and made for the bathroom, pausing in the doorway, glancing back. The villain knelt on the floor, her head bowed as if for the slaughter. The hero summoned up the very last of her strength.

"You've always been so good at keeping secrets, but you're not keeping me anymore," she said. "Don't still be here when I come out."

She locked the door of them for good.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi mate, I’ve been a fan of yours for a long long time and I really wanna buy myself your books! Problem is I cant find the amazon links, do you have them compiled somewhere?

My The God Key links (including a bunch of Amazon ones) are all currently on my pinned post also:

[the-modern-typewriter]

Do you do promos or the like? And do you have any advice for getting your writing out there? I really admire your writing btw!

I don't do promos. I reblog what I like to @the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic

I'm not an expert on getting my work out there - I'm too big a fan of writing what you want to write! I genuinely think that's the most important thing.

But generally speaking:

be consistent

post frequently but don't spam

tag appropriately/check what popular tags match your work

shorter is easier when you start because long-form requires more commitment from the reader (I started with writing prompts/very short snippets)

find the right platform for you and what you're doing

I know there was a longer post on this a while back, but I can't find it off the top of my head right now. I'll have a look later.

[the-modern-typewriter]

I will kiss you like I’m licking a wound I will scrape myself clean of you the golden honey of you the rotting flies of you

You lean in with a smile and tell me, baby “You will still miss the sweetness when I’m gone”

[the-modern-typewriter]

I fuckin love that shit with the spores and the professor. I’m not necessarily asking for a sequel, I’d just love to see you write more “people’s minds falling to cosmic horrors” shit. sick fuckin stuff bro 👌

"We are but spiders to the eyes of gods," the antagonist rasped. "Clever and creative and necessary..." Their eyes were lost; too heartbroken for mania, too seething for hollowness. They smiled, a twisted thing. "Tiny, terrifying things to be stamped out and driven away by any means necessary."

The protagonist swallowed hard. They strained again, uselessly, against the web of ropes keeping them pinned. Trapped. Splayed upon the altar of something ancient.

The antagonist plucked up a knife, almost gently, examining the glint of it in the vast and endless moonlight.

"You are a faithful creature," the antagonist said. "You know we all must do the work of the gods."

"What you saw was not a god!"

"Perhaps not. We can conceive of gods. We can call them by name, even if we should know better than to cry out for their attention in the holy dark. But my god..." They shivered, fingers flexing around the knife. "Oh my god." They laughed. A giggle. A lunacy.

"You don't have to do this," the protagonist said. "You - if I'm insignificant - please -"

"-You should have stayed in your corner, as all good spiders do. You should have not have come into the light, where they had to look at your exquisite wretchedness. You scared them."

The antagonist moved closer.

They did not look changed from what the protagonist had come to find. It would have been better if they looked changed. Unrecognisable. Taken.

But they only looked lost, and small, and world-ending.

"I promise you," the antagonist said softly, as they pressed the sacrificial knife to the protagonist's throat, "that this is kindness."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi, hope ur well! forgot what it was called but u had a snippet about a villain and civilian I think & they were cuddling and the civilian was doubting and saying “none of your crew gets why you’re with me” or something? I cannot find it and it’d be a help if it’s reposted or something, thank u!!

Just reblogged it for you :)

Here is a link also:

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I love your writing so much. Would you mind making some sort of civilian x villain snippet?? (If not that’s totally fine)

Have a nice day!! ❤️❤️

"You know none of your staff get it, right? Why you're with me?"

"They all love you," the villain said.

"Yes."

The easy admission of that got the villain's attention, and they glanced down at the civilian. The two of them were tangled in a heap of limbs on the sofa, in one of their rare moments of down time together. The villain's fingers stilled, where they'd been carding idly through the civilian's hair.

"Do they need to get it?" the villain asked. "Or is this saying you don't get it, and talking around the subject?"

The civilian huffed. "Obviously I get it."

"Yet it bothers you that they don't, even when the issue is clearly not that they don't...like you?" The villain sounded confused. On another occasion, on another topic, the civilian may have felt a little smug. It was rather rare to get that mad genius brain confused, regardless of if the topic was their latest technological scheme or a scheme of human emotion.

Maybe the civilian had been foolish to bring it up. They bit their lip. The villain tipped the civilian's chin up, palm resting warm against their throat.

"Talk," the villain said.

"I'm thinking how best to put it."

"Think aloud."

The civilian rolled their eyes, only to swallow against the villain's fingers as they caught the full force of their lover's gaze.

"How would you feel," they said, "if everyone viewed you as an extension of me? Like, you are the tag on the end of my name."

"I'd be honoured to be associated with you." The villain was perfectly sincere, because of course they bloody were. Their head tilted, eyes narrowing a fraction. "You...don't like being associated with me?"

"No. I mean - no, that's not exactly it. I just -" The civilian scowled, and definitely regretted bringing it up. "I guess I never thought what it would be like dating a celebrity."

"Is that what I am?" The villain smirked. "A celebrity?"

"You're a famous person."

"I prefer notorious."

"You know what I mean."

"Mm." The villain considered, thumb skating along the frustrated clench of the civilian's jaw.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," the civilian said, reaching up to squeeze the villain's hand. "I love being with you. I love you."

"But you don't love the feeling that I am your key identifier. You are my partner more than you are your own person."

"Sometimes," the civilian said, barely above a whisper. "Yeah. It's stupid."

The villain dug their nails in, gently enough, though the warning was there. Don't talk shit about yourself.

"And because people identify you more with me then with yourself, the question becomes 'yeah they're lovely, but I could have anyone I want, so why them? I see.'

The villain had their thoughtful, problem fixing face on, eyes going distant.

"I'm not saying this because I think you can do anything about it or because I expect you to fix it. I just..."

"It's because most of the things you do, that make me see you differently to how other people see you, happen when we're alone."

It was the civilian's turn to blink, glancing up.

"Every time you negotiate for someone's life, or make suggestions to my plans, you do it here. At home."

"Well, yeah. What. You want me to challenge you in public?" That seemed an absolutely terrible idea. There was a reason why the civilian always diverted to it just being the two of them.

"No."

"Mm," the civilian said.

"I wouldn't hurt you if you did it in public."

"I know. But -"

"But it's us. It's private."

"Yeah."

The villain's hand moved to the civilian's hair, stroking through it again. "Well, I personally don't mind that the rest of them never get to see how incredible you are." They tugged, so they could press a kiss to the civilian's forehead. "More for me. No chance they're going to try to poach you off me."

The civilian laughed. "Of course that's your takeaway from this."

"Does it make you feel better?"

The civilian opened their mouth, only to pause. Actually. It did.

The villain smirked. "Don't ever suggest I can't fix your problems, darling."

And then, the villain kissed them, and what other people thought really didn't matter at all.

[the-modern-typewriter]

do you have an archive of our own account? I could have sworn you did but I couldn't find anything lol

Technically, yes. But I don't really use it! AO3 doesn't really feel like a good fit for the kind of thing I post on tumblr.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Could you write a snippet about a sunshine civilian x terrifying villain?? The civilian doesn’t like “change” the villain but the villain does have a soft spot for them

"Would you like me to get involved?" the villain asked.

The civilian paused, halfway in the middle of doing the dishes. They started again smoothly enough - mind racing through their options.

Involved in what? Oh so innocent. An insult to them both.

How did you find out? Obvious. The villain made it their business to be aware of everything going in their general sphere.

Of course I don't want that. Of course I do.

"You're asking?" the civilian said, finally. "I didn't think your possessive streak would allow you to sit out on my battles."

"You enjoy your independence. I prefer not to upset you further."

The villain stalked across the room, taking a dish from the civilian's hand and beginning the work of drying it. It still caught the civilian off guard; to see them do such mundane things. A dark conqueror did not exchange his throne for a pair of sunny yellow marigolds.

Except, with them.

The civilian exhaled a slow breath.

"There's a limit, of course." The villain's voice was too casual. "If they'd laid hands on you..."

"I don't think any of your followers would be that stupid."

The villain didn't say anything to that, simply taking the next plate. The civilian didn't say anything either for the next few dishes, because dishes were annoying but easy and the villain's world was fascinating but hard.

"I can fight my own battles," the civilian said. "It's not a big deal."

"I know you can. And that's not the point."

The civilian huffed, finally daring a glance at their lover. The villain's gaze was an inferno. Dangerous. Teeming with violence. A carefully controlled fury. The civilian couldn't possibly look away from it.

The villain reached to turn off the hot water tap without breaking eye contact, head tilting a fraction. They raised an eyebrow.

"If you got involved," the civilian said. "They'd never dare so much as insinuate shit about me again. They'd be so polite."

"They'd get on their knees whenever you walked into a room." The villain's voice dropped instantly away from casual to velvet. "They'd ask permission before so much as looking at you. Would you like that?"

"No." Yes. Sometimes.

There was no judgment on the villain's face.

"It's not an impulse I want to indulge," the civilian amended.

"Mm, pity. I'd like seeing everyone on their knees for you. They'd grovel. Beg me for mercy and then beg you, when they realised I was not the one in a position to grant them forgiveness for their sins."

The civilian shivered.

The villain smiled. Their eyes lit up.

"Don't tempt me." The civilian elbowed them, gently, splashing soap suds everywhere. Then they pressed a kiss to the villain's shoulder. Their mouth only felt a little dry. "It would be terrible for my ego. I'd be insufferable. The power would go straight to my head."

The villain laughed and the civilian could finally look away, grinning ruefully to themselves as they shook their head. They turned the water back on and then did some more of the dishes, chest feeling a little lighter than before despite themselves.

"Thank you," the civilian said. "For asking."

"Do you know how you want to deal with the situation?"

"Honestly, I was just going to ignore it. I can handle people making snide comments."

"Boundary setting and discipline is important."

"This is why everyone is scared of you."

"This is also why no one would dare try and bait me in a conversation."

The civilian scrunched up their nose in acknowledgement of the point, glancing at the villain again. "Well, I don't want to sic you on them. As funny as their expressions would be, I'd feel really bad about it in the morning. And I don't want -" The civilian stopped.

"You don't want them to think you'll coming running to my coattails whenever the other kids on the playground are mean to you?"

"...not how I would have said it, but yeah," the civilian muttered, cheeks flushed.

The villain immediately leaned down to press a kiss to the warmed skin, seeming utterly unable to help themselves. The civilian could feel the villain's grin against their skin.

The villain would be delighted if the civilian did that, at least in part. It was the closest they could get to playing the protector, the anti hero.

"For what it's worth," the villain said, against their ear. "I don't care what they think about you."

"Lions rarely care about the inner workings of ants, it's true."

It was the villain's turn to huff. They switched the water off again, wrapping an arm around the civilian and bodily moving them away from the sink. Their lips dipped to kiss the civilian's neck. "Not an ant."

"Obviously, I'm the cutest ant around. No one's disputing that."

"You're my favourite thing," the villain said. They found the civilian's mouth and kissed that too, before straightening. When they looked down the inferno was still there (always there) but back down to its normal level of simmering. "My absolute darling."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So if you change your mind about your enemies screaming, sobbing for your absolution..."

The civilian rolled their eyes, and felt a smile tugging their lips even if they probably should have been horrified. They leaned in to kiss the villain in turn.

"I know who to call."

[the-modern-typewriter]

How would I write enemies to lovers who work with each other? And they want to kill each other? But they realise they are in love...

Working together is a great starting point because it means they have a reason to interact and a common goal.

You start the story with them wanting to kill each other and being in opposition (for whatever reason fits your story).

On the lighter end of enemies to lovers it could be that they are competing for the same promotion or have different competing methods of tackling the same task (e.g. one is a maverick and the other is more traditional/by the rules.) This highlights two different reasons to be enemies. One is external (the competing) and one is internal (there is something they fundamentally don't like about each other at the start.) External is easier to romance up than internal, but both can work depending on execution.

On the more intense actually want to kill each other end, the scenario is more likely to be something like they have history but in this instance have to work together for X reason. Maybe one used to be on the opposing side but has no moved to be on the same team. Whatever. I say this because if the feelings are that strong there has to be something in their relationship/the story set up that would make them want to kill each other, so they are unlikely to be aligned on the same goal and the stakes are higher (so they are not likely to just be coworkers who don't get on!)

(Can you do a version of enemies to lovers where they want to kill each other and are in love at the same time? Yes. But that is more likely to be a situation of lovers who become enemies and end somewhere more complicated by the time the story starts. It's not a traditional enemies to lovers.)

Enemies to lovers is often slow burn for a reason. You generally have to allow time for the feelings to change. On the lighter end, there is less change needed so your plot points don't need to be as dramatic. On the rougher end, you really need to earn it.

The realising they are in love happens later in the story (maybe at the midpoint or 75% depending on your story) not at the same time as wanting to kill each other. Before then, you establish why they don't like each other and then (as they do their interactions) reasons why actually they would/do like each other and work well together. You highlight their positive traits or create scenarios to deepen the understanding between the two.

A lot of romances follow roughly the same structure. This is outlined here by Savannah Gilbo:

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I really distinctly remember a prompt I think it was you that posted, but I can't find it anymore. It was about a villain and their intelligent henchman; they made up a stupid plan so they could watch the henchman come up with a better plan to fix it, and the ending was kind of smutty. Do you remember writing this/know where I could find it?

[the-modern-typewriter]

If anyone wants to read a free sapphic short story I wrote about Medusa :)

Here's the opening:

With hindsight in mind, if I was ever turned into stone again I would definitely pick a different pose. Though, with hindsight in mind, I don’t think she’d have turned me into a rock either. Not then.

I’m on my knees.

She was on her knees too, the last time we officially spoke. She’d just raced out of the temple, heaving sobs so shattering I thought she might choke on them. She raked her hands over the writhing mass of her hair, but for each hungry mouth she covered, another twisted past her fingers like a story thread refusing to be cut.

“What happened?!”

“Don’t look at me.” She curled crumpled on the grass. “Just go away!”

“They’re not so bad,” I said. “They’re – pretty.”

“They’re hideous! I look hideous.”

The serpents hissed their indignation. They really were glorious, those snakes. They weren’t just one colour or one type, but a vast explosion of mottled blues and yellows and greens. They were resplendent in the light – just like her.

“I like them.” I stepped forward, despite the uncertain hammering of my heart. I knelt down in front of her; determined to prove that, no matter what happened, I wasn’t afraid. Not of her. Never of her. “Hey. Hey. C’mere.”

“No.” She reared back. The snakes shifted too, flaring, fanged. “No, don’t – I don’t – the snakes—”

“—They’re you. They won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know you.”

She gulped, snorting a slightly hysterical sound that might have been a laugh. She dragged the back of her hand trembling over her eyes.

“I know you,” I said again, softer.

I reached out, gently brushing the tears from her damp cheeks. Her skin was cracked and almost unrecognisable beneath my touch, but the snakes did not attack. They settled like I was the sun and they were basking. I felt their tongues flicker across me, felt the nuzzle of their many heads, craning for me in the way that she never would as a priestess of Athena. It made my chest ache. It gave me courage to match all of the great heroes.

“I know you and I love you,” I said. “So whatever’s happened—”

Her head snapped up to look at me.

“You love me?” she echoed.

Then she realised what she’d done. Then she realised what she could do.

The rest, as they say, is untold history.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey there, love your writing! If possible, could we perhaps get a piece about a hero who has somehow been turned into some kind of nonhuman creature angsting over having become a 'monster', and the villain trying to convince them that they're still human?

"You need to stay away from me," the hero stumbled back a step. "I'm a monster."

"Babe." The villain continued to approach, studying them with something closer to curiosity, and certainly amusement, rather than horror. "Real monsters don't waste time worrying about their monstrosity. You know that, right?"

"Look at me!" It came out a snarl, full of teeth, voice some shuddering thing that didn't sound their own anymore. "I'm not human."

The villain did stop, then, at that.

The hero closed their eyes, shaking. Their new body was a towering horrific thing, grotesque. All claws and spikes and lumbering movements.

"And that," the villain's voice was quiet, "is what makes you a monster, is it?"

The hero's eyes snapped open again.

The amusement had vanished from the villain's face, replaced by something deadly serious.

"What?" the hero managed.

"Not looking human, that's what makes you a monster, is it? Not what you've done, or want to do to people, but the pure fact you look like a nightmare in a children's book."

The hero flinched. "You don't need to rub it in."

"You're missing the point." The villain stared them down, unsympathetic. "'You need to stay away from me' implies that you think you're dangerous, some monster of moral proportions, but the only reason you've given for that is that your pretty face is no longer quite so pretty. That you're not human. So you think humans can't be monsters, do you? You think your appearance or species is what decides if you have humanity?"

"That's not - I mean - you-" the hero floundered. They took another step back. "I killed people!"

"Did you mean to?"

"That's not-"

"Not relevant?" The villain moved closer once more, still seeming utterly unafraid. "It's the most relevant thing. I've never once you seen you attack first. Baby, you couldn't be a monster if your life depended on it, and your life may literally depend on it now."

The hero swallowed at that. They kept their hands balled close to their chest, cowering in the shadows.

"You're not a monster," the villain said, "you look like the face people like to give monsters. There's a significant difference in that. Do you understand?"

The hero had never stopped to think about such things before. They protected the city from villains and creatures of the night, the demons and vampires and ghouls and ghosts that stalked the city walls, searching for a way through to devour the inhabitants inside. They knew what monsters looked like, didn't they? They knew what a monster was.

They stared at the villain, wide-eyed, suddenly not so sure.

"Do you not think I am monstrous?" the villain pressed. "You've certainly said I'm as bad as the devil before."

"You're being weirdly nice now."

The villain snorted at that, shaking their head. "It's not nice. You still have your humanity, it's just a fact."

The hero looked down again, slowly uncurling their hands. The claws uncurled with the movement, cutting through the night, the tips still splattered with blood that the hero hadn't been able to clean off. They weren't used to their strength anymore, to anything. Their hands were too big for the fine motor control of the life they had known. The claws and the teeth got in the way, as did the swishing tail.

"How did you know it was me anyway?" the hero asked. "I don't even - my voice -" Even when they tried to whisper, it came out gruff and threatening.

"You still stay the same dumb things," the villain said. "Of course it's you. Also, your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes are the same." The villain reached in their pocket for a handkerchief, casually wiping the hero's claws down as they spoke.

"Oh."

Nobody had looked at the hero's eyes since they'd been forced to change. They'd been too busy attacking, or running, or screaming.

"There we go," the villain murmured, to the hero's claws. "Better?"

It did make the hero feel a little less twitchy. So had the whole conversation, hell, the fact that someone was talking to them at all. Like they could understand, and be reasoned with.

"Why are you helping me?" the hero asked. "I was never...I was never very nice to you, was I?"

"You were human. Humans can be utter tossers sometimes."

"...you say that like you're not human."

"I'm not."

"But you-" The hero stared at them.

"I look human?" The villain tilted their head. "Didn't we just cover this? There are more of us than you think. My guess is that you pissed off a witch."

The hero wasn't ready to move onto that yet, their head was still reeling, and everything hurt. The monsters were outside the walls, wasn't that the whole point of the citadels? Of the hero's job? Or everything they'd been raised to?

"Okay, but I'm not talking like morality now, I'm talking species."

"Yes. I'm not human."

The hero continued to stare at them.

"So stop angsting over your humanity, or lack thereof," the villain said. "Either way it doesn't matter. What matters is your actions, and what you choose to do now. That is what defines you."

"I need to get out of here before I hurt someone else," the hero said. "I can't - I can't control myself. And I think I'm getting hungry. I - what if I need blood, or something? I just - I feel -" There was something in the pit of their stomach, something ravenous, something that ached for destruction. The hero's voice dropped to barely a whisper, and they lowered their head. "I feel like I want to rip the world apart." Didn't that make them a monster, if nothing else?

Everything in them felt like it wanted to explode, erupt, bubble past the seams of what they'd become.

The villain smiled, just the corner of their mouth. "Of course you do," they said. "You're frightened."

The hero blinked.

"Come on," the villain said, turning on their heel. "Follow me before the locals call for reinforcements."

The hero took a hesitant step after them, then another.

It was only later that they registered that the villain had never answered why they were helping the hero at all.