the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

It spoke your name on the stairs that night.

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

nice pair of characters who trust each other more than anyone else in the whole entire world it would sure be a shame if one of them betrayed that trust for the sake of trying to keep the other alive. it would sure be a shame to love someone so much you destroy them

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

Continued/inspired by this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/the-modern-typewriter/785429319981957120?source=share

From the amazing @the-modern-typewriter

"You look quite fetching."

The prince flinched as the king's fingers trailed along his suit collar. He watched the king's movements in the mirror in front of them. If he was being honest the king looked striking and even dashing in his royal purples, expensively embroidered with golds and reds.

"Your country's colors might've been chosen just for you." The king pressed a kiss behind the prince's ear, fingers trailing the copper buttons that lined the deep blue of his suit. The touch sent waves across his chest, goose bumps rising in the wake.

"It was a lovely ceremony," the prince said honestly, albeit diplomatically. He reached to undo a button and found the king's hand there already.

"Was it everything you dreamed?"

The prince was taken off guard by that question. His gaze flicked up to meet the king's reflection, searching for any sign of mockery. He didn't know what to do with the sincerity there.

"It was lovely."

"I expected you to run again."

The prince shrugged, "Can't run forever." The fact was, he had tried. But something had brought him back before the guards had even realized he was gone. I'd fight for you like a holy war... The king's words had been echoing in his head for weeks as he watched the king meticulously attend every detail of their lavish union ceremony. His kingdom wasn't nearly as wealthy as the king's, still he couldn't imagine anyone from home working half so tirelessly to please him.

The king slipped a button loose. Then another, revealing the prince's collarbone. The prince closed his eyes, shivering from the touch.

"I wonder," the king hummed, "if those gorgeous blues are as fetching on the carpet. Does the suit make the man, or vice versa?" He slipped the garment from the prince, sliding it swiftly down his arms and let it fall by their feet.

The prince rounded on the king, grabbing his hands and holding them to his chest. He gazed into the king's eyes, trying to decipher the depths there. The king raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips. The prince found desire and strength and something almost tender.

The king reached out and brushed his knuckles along the prince's jaw. "What will you do when I stop chasing, hmm?"

"What would you do if I'm done running?"

The king tilted his head, a hand moving to the back of the prince's neck, searching the other's gaze in his turn as his other hand trailed along the prince's bare chest, searching, exploring.

The prince reached out, slowly, to undo the first of the king's buttons. Hunger filled the king's gaze and his hands moved to grasp at the prince's hips, pulling him in. The prince shuddered, anticipation racing up and down his spine as he slowly worked his way down the row of elegant buttons, until the king's chest was as exposed as his own. The king smiled wolfishly and leaned in to lay a trail of kisses along his collarbone. A holy war. There was certainly a worshipfulness to the kisses even as they grew hungrier, moved up his neck, along his jaw, to his ear where the king breathed out, "I know who I asked for when I asked for you. Do you know, now, who it is that did the asking?"

He was starting to realize. The prince trailed hesitant fingers along the king's back. "There are worse things than being yours."

The king snatched the prince's hands into his, backing up onto the bed and pulling the prince's captive hands onto his thighs. The prince was forced close enough to share the king's air, as both their breathing came more ragged.

"My clever prince," the king murmured, trailing hands up and down the prince's arms. "Tell me that you wish to be mine."

The prince felt heat flood his face and ducked his head down. The king reached up and nudged his chin up, guiding their eyes to meet. "Try escaping me now." His eyes could've swallowed the prince whole. The king pulled at the prince's waist, guiding him to sit on his lap and wrapped his arms around his torso, peppering hungry kisses up and down his ribs, his stomach, his chest, his arms.

A sound escaped the prince, drawing a chuckle from the king. The prince burried his hands in the king's hair, and tucked his face into the crook of his neck. The king's hands found his legs and another moan escaped the prince.

"I wish to be yours," the prince said softly into the king's ear, tracing the outside of it with his lips.

"No more running. You're mine, my clever prince."

And the king did indeed claim him. After all, it was their wedding night.

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

Angst Villain x civilian where the villain cheats on civilian with hero

“If it is of any comfort, it didn’t mean that much to me." The villain cocked their head, as if they were thinking about something intensively - which they weren't. They looked at the civilian, but failed to conjure any pity.

Their partner, well, probably ex-partner now, looked at them with wide eyes and tears rolling down their cheeks.

"I-" The civilian's hands were shaking, their face contorted in pain. "What did I- what did I do wrong?"

Their voice was shaking.

"Nothing."

"I..." The civilian took in a deep breath. "Oh god..."

They gasped for air desperately but the villain couldn't help but think about the hero in their bed, moaning lovingly. It was true that the civilian hadn't done anything wrong. They were quite good company to keep around. They were tidy (which was very important to the villain), they were nice, avoided conflict, didn't ask too many questions. The perfect kind of person to keep around, someone who wasn't getting involved in the villain's business.

But when it came to pure desire, the hero was simply more tempting. It was about power.

The civilian wasn't a challenge in bed.

The hero on the other hand...

"Oh god...I can't-" The civilian gasped for air over and over again, coming very close to mimicking a panic attack.

"I can move out if you want, or you do. Whatever you like."

"I wanted to marry you, I - I love you, I..." The villain raised a lazy brow.

"We can still get married if you want to, but I'd like to screw the hero every now and then," the villain said. The civilian turned away, but the villain could obviously tell that they were crying harder now. They would have never brought this up, but unfortunately, the villain had gotten a bit lazy and the civilian had found out about the affair.

It wasn't the end of the world, but the villain had planned to keep the civilian around for a little longer. More than once, they had thought about proposing to the civilian out of pure necessity, but the amount of work linked to that, had spoiled the idea quickly.

"You don't have to decide now," the villain clarified. "It's an option, that's all."

The civilian's back was still turned towards them.

"I had so many plans for us," they whispered, almost mumbled the words. "What did I do wrong, why are you doing this to me...?"

The villain rolled their eyes.

"Like I said, it didn't mean that much to me. They're attractive. They showed up at my work. We fucked on the desk and started to meet regularly." A lot of lies. Technically, they had been flirting with each other for the last year. "Work" meant their usual nightly activities. The thing with the desk was true, though.

The civilian turned around, eyes bloodshot.

"Did they force you? Because they're the hero?" The villain pursed their lips. Interesting. It was probably pretty easy to turn themselves into a victim in this situation (the civilian was by no means rational right now), but they had already admitted that they wanted to meet the hero in the future, so keeping up with that lie was going to be exhausting.

"No," the villain said. "Their ass just looked great that night."

"I don't understand, I thought you loved me?! We've been together for three years..." The civilian wiped away their tears but new tears followed and followed.

"...I like your company, yes."

"That's it?"

Once again, the villain cocked their head, staring at the civilian.

"Come on. A hero. The hero. Who can say no to that? It's a sexual thing. Has absolutely nothing to do with you. You're great." They shrugged. "Stay here. Get some sleep. We can talk about the rest tomorrow."

The civilian stood there, didn't dare to move.

"My love, you must be exhausted."

The civilian took in a deep breath. They nodded.

"There we go," the villain said softly. "You look lovely right now, by the way."

It wasn't that the villain liked being cruel - they just couldn't help it.

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

one of my biggest points of advice to other hobbyist writers, as someone who not only sees this a lot but also has to make a point of catching/fixing this in my own writing: don't EXPLAIN your metaphors, EXPAND them

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

Prompt (591)

“The enchantment’s broken,” the villain said, pointing a dagger at the hero’s neck. “There’s no one alive who loves you. You’re not immortal anymore.”

The hero laughed, even as the sharp blade pressed into their skin. “Go ahead, try to kill me. But I think we both now the truth. There’s still someone left who loves me.”

The villain tried to stop their hand from shaking. They failed. “Don’t.”

“As long as you live, I can’t die,” the hero said, sly as a fox. “My dear, you have to decide how much revenge is worth to you. Are you willing to pay the ultimate price?”

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

romanticizing vampirism again. you know, the type of desire that goes beyond simple mortal pleasures of the body. the deeper form of love that is stored within, the carnal wanting of the red essence that brings life into the flesh. it is to want the very thing that makes you. it is to want you entirely.

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

Neither enemies to lovers nor slow burn but a secret third thing called Schrödinger's intimacy. We are in love and we are not in love do NOT open that lid I swear to God.

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

i really do think that "let me in" is the most potently horrifying phrase ever conceived of. just let me in. that's all you have to do. just invite me inside. show me kindness. trust me. all you have to do is say yes. all you have to do is open the door. the rest is up to me. but you can trust me. have faith. you wouldn't leave me out here. you wouldn't turn away. not you. you aren't cruel. you're a good person. i can see that. i need your help. that's why i'm asking this of you. just let me in. let me in. let me in let me in letmeinletmeinletmein LET ME IN

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

conversations of amatonormativity and consent overlap a lot and should be discussed side by side more frequently. because when you live in a society that teaches you that you’re supposed to want sex and romance, that you may want to say no in the moment but you shouldn’t say no forever, any statements about consent get muddied. you cannot at once preach that consent is vital and “you can always say no” and also insist that people should give sex and romance a try, even when they express disinterest, telling them “eventually you’ll find the right person.”

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

siren

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

Can I just say, uh, I’m pretty sure noticing you’re asexual is harder than noticing you’re gay, straight, pan or otherwise. Like, I just read someone’s desciption of hitting puberty and, like, there’s nothing like that. There’s no sudden ‘boob’ moment, no sudden ‘fuck, I’d fuck that’ moment, not sudden anything. You just, like, plod on through life as usual going ‘oooh, that’s pretty, I’d like that hair’ or ‘oooooh, they’re nice, I’d like to be close to them’ but there’s no like, ‘oh, someone would want to fuck that but I don’t’, you know? You just- you don’t notice, you don’t realise everyone else has ‘had a moment’ but you haven’t, you just- keep going as you always have.

And then, much much later, you start to wonder why people are getting so caught up in drama for romance or sex, like, why bother? It’s not worth it, they’re not worth it, why are you doing stupid things for something that’s so- and then you wonder if there’s something wrong with you, start mentally over compensating. Like ‘uh, okay, um, who should I date? Who can I stand to date? Who could I stand to fuck?’ like- it’s not, it’s not something you want, but you want to fit in, to be normal.

Sometimes you don’t even know that you’re doing it.

Sometimes you don’t even know asexual’s a thing.

I dunno, I guess, I just feel like, uh, people should understand more?

idk sorry thank you for listening to me

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

I almost pitied him; I almost loved him. I did not hate him—or, if I did, it was only as one loathes the looking-glass, that shows one one's imperfect form in strict and fearful clarity.

—Sarah Waters, Tipping the Velvet

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

fat character who becomes a vampire and loses a ton of weight and blood can not sate their hunger but they can't eat anything they used to like anymore. everyone views it as a positive healthy positive development but they're starving and dying slowly but never truly dying, a living corpse. this is a metaphor for something

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

“weird and unhealthy relationship that cant be categorized neatly as sexual or romantic or platonic but has a defining air of devotion and obsession to it” wins sound of the summer for the 13th year in a row

[the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic]

not very new hyperfixation rediscovered write a poem abt it