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Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

2023 vrs 2024 mizu

what monster hunter monsters would you like to see?

Who are Johnny and Finch?

They are characters from a story of mine on Patreon, The Supermax Prison Blues.

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The Supermax Prison Blues | Collection from the-modern-typewriter | 7 posts | Patreon

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We are 17,000 words in at the moment and a bit over halfway through the story.

But I'm hoping the bit I just posted is readable/fun even without the context!

Tamed Digi-Squad!

I love your stories! No one does hero/villain quite like you. Might I request a snip about a villain capturing a hero and making the hero strip out of their uniform before treating them to "hospitality"? (Or it could be a group of villains and/or a group of heroes, whatever configuration's you find more fun to write). Thank you!

"Strip."

"Seriously?" The hero tried to laugh, but it came out a bit choked and off. "My, my. I always knew you had a thing for me, but...damn."

"Well, how else will you be properly dressed for dinner?"

"I'll be fine like this. It's my signature! You know, it's important that people recognise me, right?"

"Mm, no. Undress."

"Mm, no."

"Look." The villain grimaced, folding their arms across their chest, heat rising to their face. "We both know you'd hide weapons in every possible bit of clothing you could! I'm not - I don't actually mean -" They levelled a glare at the hero. "Just undress, alright? Before the others come to see what's taking so long."

"Mm, no."

"I'll do it for you, if you prefer."

The hero glared right back, spreading their arms in a 'well, you're gonna just have to bloody well try it' sort of gesture. No flirting, then, not even any false ease.

The villain's gaze turned flat, black and dangerous. All of the awkward, flustered compassion drained from them. "Fine," they bit out. "If you want to make this difficult. Fine."

The villain pounced, and maybe the hero could have had a shot at defending themselves normally, but not then. Not after everything. The hero froze at the touch of a knife against their throat, breathing going shallow.

"Could have done this nicely," the villain said. "With some dignity."

"Fuck off."

The villain shot them a glance, almost askance at whatever venom they heard in the hero's tone, but didn't hesitate to cut down through the material of the hero's clothes.

Maybe they needed to invest in something more bullet-proof or hard to tear; as if they had the money for that. As if it wasn't already far too late.

Various weapons did, though, fall to the ground in a clinking, thudding pile that might have been funny in other circumstances. Maybe.

The hero closed their eyes instead, shivering as the cooler air hit their skin, in startling juxtaposition to the warmth of the villain's - faltering - hands.

A terrible silence descended on them.

The hero willed their shoulders not to tense, even if they could already feel the unease locked in every inch of their body. Would it really be worse to see the villain's expression, then to stand so exposed with their eyes shut? It wasn't like it was letting them pretend that what was happening wasn't happening any more effectively.

The villain's finger traced down the path of one of the hero's many, many scars. Their touch was steady again, assessing, as if it had never been otherwise.

The hero opened their eyes, a lump lodged in their throat. They took a step back, still panting raggedly for breath after their tousle. They folded their arms across their chest, closing off as much as they could. They weren't even fully undressed yet.

"Oh," the villain said softly. "I see."

"You really don't. You're just making assumptions."

"Correct me, then."

The hero said nothing.

The villain stepped closer again, and the hero flinched back before they could stop themselves, as the villain reached for the zipper of their trousers.

The villain raised a brow, warning of the fact that they could simply lunge once more. Again, not awkward, but it felt like it was more because some barrier had slammed up on their features. On everything about them.

The hero gritted their teeth, trying to decide if it was better to pretend they had even a modicum of control in the matter.

"Having as much fun taking my clothes off as you always thought? I could just - all the other weapons, I could -"

"You know I can't trust you." The villain reached out again, though slower that time, and reeled the hero in a little closer by their belt buckle. "I'm going to give you replacement clothes, though. No one else is going to see you like this." Their voice was oh so carefully measured. "I'm not a monster."

"But what you're doing right now is monstrous."

The villain didn't seem to have a good response to that, their attention sweeping down over the hero's bare skin once more. At the very least, the purr, the flirting, had vanished from them too.

The hero should have kept flirting. Made this into something else. Made it into something they could stomach.

"You better not be waiting for me to tell you to go ahead," the hero snapped. "It's not going to happen."

The villain moved again then, taking apart the rest of the hero's defences, until there was nothing left to cover them at all.

The pile of weapons next to them seemed impossibly large, all things considered, not that the hero could even reach for them. The villain's powers allowed no direct attack.

If the hero wanted to be fair, which they didn't, they wouldn't have wanted the villain to be able to even possibly smuggle anything in, if the situation was reversed.

The villain stepped back, gaze sweeping over the hero again.

The hero willed them not to comment, or maybe they wanted them to say something awful and mocking - they weren't sure. The silence only proved how wrong everything had gone, so quickly, because it wasn't like them.

"Like what you see?" the hero tried to ask, only it was an inaudible sort of croak because they couldn't actually get it out past the terrible feeling in their throat.

The villain turned away, plucking a new set of clothes from a cupboard nearby, and held them out to the hero - forcing them to step closer to retrieve it, like a shy dog coaxed with the promise of a treat.

The hero didn't think they'd ever actually hated the villain before, but it boiled through them then, confused and tangled up.

Even when they yanked on the t-shirt and joggers, wishing for something that covered more of their arms, they didn't feel better. Because the villain had seen.

They had seen the scars, the marks, and the words scratched in. The rules shimmering with blood and magic.

Another of those painful silences stretched between them, and then-

The villain's jacket, long-sleeved as it was, hit the hero in the face.

The hero floundered, but caught it.

"Nice abs, by the way," the villain said, still a bit too deadpan and icy for them to not be making an effort at distance. But, it was an olive branch, of some strange kind, of something. The hero didn't know what.

All they knew was that they snorted, before they could stop themselves and then...then they just felt the tears burn.

"Thanks," they managed. "I made them myself."

They pulled the jacket on, grateful that the two of them were around the same size.

"Hm." The villain turned away, once more, sparing the hero further scrutiny. "Come along. If they ask what took so long, assume I kissed you."

The hero followed them, reeling.