#typewriter fics

[typewriteringalaxy]

entirely hypothetical poll and not at all related to my Match Made In Hell AU

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

Me: hmm ok so the word "okay" came about in 1839 and spread across North America + I'm sure was heard in Britain too however bc I'm not a time traveller I really have no idea if a born and raised British person would say "okay" as a normal part of their speech pattern in 1897, and I don't feel like scouring primary sources to find out, so Just In Case I'm gonna have them use "alright" because I simply can't risk it.

Me: *mentions Mina needing to change the ink in her typewriter like it's a goddamn printer*

[smimon]

My sad Kaivohuone fanfic from last month is now on AO3!

Big thanks to @lintubintu for helping me set this up 🧡

[dudefrommywesterns]

Title: I'm Tired of Being Lonely and Walking with the Blues

Ship: Mike/Pete Nelson

Words: 630

Description: Pete comforts Mike after a long work day.

Summer was ending, and the circus grew quieter as the kids started going off the school and the adults went back to their work routines. The work grew easier as the crowds thinned. Still, there was something vaguely melancholy about it.

Mike sighed after another long day of tending to the various needs of the circus and circus goers. They retired to Pete’s trailer, an acquisition of his after he became co-runner of the circus with his midway gambling idea. 

Pete looked up at them from where he was sitting on his bed. He smiled his ever charming smile. “Hi, honey.” 

Mike returned a much weaker smile. “Hi, Pete.” 

“Just Pete today, huh?” he asked in a slightly teasing sort of way. 

The corner of Mike’s mouth lifted into a mischievous smirk. “Okay, Peter. Peter Nelson. Want me to make it longer?” 

“Can’t make it much longer,” he said. “I only have so much name.” 

“Could throw the M in there,” Mike said. 

Pete glanced sideways at them. 

“What?” 

“You look tired,” he said. He patted his thigh. “C’mere.” 

Mike laughed. “There’s a rule against lap sitting here at the circus.” 

Pete shook his head, smiling in fond disbelief. “Not in my bed. Come here.” 

Without taking off their jumpsuit, or their shoes, Mike climbed into Pete’s lap and nestled against the fabric of his polo. 

Pete spoke to Mike in that gentle voice he had, “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” 

“Who said anything was wrong?” 

“Oh, nobody. Just the way you walked in all mopey. Or that tired smile. Or all that kidding around and actin’ like everything’s fine.” 

“It was that obvious?” Mike mumbled. 

“Maybe not to everybody. But I’m your boyfriend, remember?” 

“Mm, hmm, because I sit in all the boys’ laps,” Mike said. “I make a game of it. I try to sit in as many laps as I can.” 

Pete shook his head again, and had that same look. “Could you quit being smart and tell me what’s wrong? Hm?” 

“Sorry, Petey, smart is all I can be,” Mike said. “As for what’s wrong…I don’t know. I feel so…lonely.”

Pete ran one of his big hands along Mike’s head. “I’m here.” 

Mike waved their hand. “I know that.” 

“You have Jerry too,” he said. “And Jill. And everybody here.” 

“I just can’t shake the feeling that no one cares about me.” 

Pete frowned and his eyes got that shiny look in them. “I care about you. I’m not nobody.” 

“No,” Mike replied. “No, you’re somebody. Somebody very important to me. I don’t like to burden you.” 

“Look at me,” Pete said gently. 

Mike turned so that they had a better look at him. Their heartbeat quickened when they met his eyes. 

“I care about you,” he said slowly. “That means you’re no burden. Even if you were, I’d carry you.” 

“I’m heavy,” Mike said lightheartedly. 

Pete grinned. “You’re lucky I’m nice and strong then. And I’d get stronger if I had to.” 

Mike laughed and shook their head. “You’re not all that, you know!” 

He leaned in closer. “Oh, you don’t think so?” 

“All you’ve got is that dumb smile.” 

“Uh huh.”

“And those boring brown eyes.” 

Pete nodded.

“And that pretty- overgreased! Head of hair.” 

Pete just smiled at them. He knew he didn’t have to say anything. 

“Oh, you know I’m in love with you!” 

“I sure do,” he said. “Good thing, too.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I don’t have to be in love by myself,” he said. “It’s nicer being in love with you.” 

“Thank you,” Mike said. 

He caressed their hair.  “For what?” 

“Caring about me.” 

“I can’t help it,” he said, then added, “I don’t want to help it.” 

Mike turned back around and got comfortable in his lap. 

“Don’t be mad if I sleep here.” 

He kissed the top of their head. 

“I won’t.”

[shhisp]

girlfriend and i have written PRIMO DIRKJAKE FANFIC in 2023!!! READ HERE!!!!!!

[saint-mona]

Got my grandpa's 1940s L. C. Smith typewriter working again.

If I use this for fic writing, I'll be even more slow updating 😬

[queenmabcreates]

My sister and her husband gave this to me for Christmas. It is so freaking cool. They are incredibly supportive of this lovely, little obsession of mine. 💙🖤

[sonarsunbeam]

need to make a checklist for myself for what fics i have that im working on

[ploffskinpluffskin]

poses i've been writing at this story about muta and natori the last couple of days but instead i bring you the one (1) conversation haru and baron have had in it so far

"Baron," Haru starts quite seriously, regarding him with a gaze she's certain must be somewhat admonishing, "You're using gossip to tell me not to gossip. You do know that, right?"

Baron, stoic and reserved as ever, fails to give her even a paltry satisfying facial twitch to her sharp observation. Instead, he appears to give it the same weight and careful consideration he would a declaration of utmost fondness. And she should know, she supposes.

“And is it working?” He eventually asks.

“Not really.” She at least has the decency to be apologetic about it.

And there he gives her a smile— just a little thing, a brief quirk of the mouth in hapless surrender. When he speaks again, it’s with a bit of resignation, albeit one tinged with affection.

“You’re a very kind soul, Miss Haru. It’s quite admirable. But kindness must be tempered with strength and respite, lest we unthinkingly wear it down into resentment.”

Haru frowns, lightly, but she doesn’t respond outside of it, and Baron seems to take her silence as an invitation to continue, still gentle, still quiet. She gets the feeling he wishes to distract himself with his tea, break the moment of vulnerable concern with something, and yet his limpid gaze remains fixed on her face. 

“Muta will land on his feet no matter the outcome. It’s important you do as well.”

Haru breaks their eye contact for him, there, feeling suddenly rather bare in a way she doesn’t truly recall Baron ever managing before. He’s quite intuitive, she thinks, when he wants to be. When she peeks back up at him, she finds that he has given into temptation, eyes downcast and lightly lidded as he takes a small drink. Her own gaze drifts back to the tea cup he had provided her with; she thinks maybe it’s the same set he had offered when they first met.

“I’ll be fine, Baron,” she says with a shrug and a brief cant of her head so that she looks rather winsome.

[typewriteringalaxy]

Posters for @akosmias 's magical fic we can make it through this night (if we connect) and my accompanying little pwp night time connections

sans title versions under the cut:

[apparitionsofbaddecisions]

hello!! today i bring. the beginning of a fic i may or may not ever finish!! but three paragraphs is more than enough for me to feel comfortable Sharing rip

It had taken some persistent, if gentle, convincing. As expected, Caine proved to be quite attached to thinking up his adventures, and he was reluctant to trade them in, even temporarily, for something far more low-key, even if his beloved Superstars were the ones specifically requesting it.

It’s the Amazing Digital Circus, he’d insisted plaintively, if at least in the same earnest, concerned tone an older child might use to explain the dangers of a hot oven to a toddler. (Jax had walked away then and there.)

It wasn’t made to resemble that quaint real world you all are so fond of bringing up. It was meant to be more extravagant! Fun! Illustrious! You’re able to do the impossible here, he’d finished exultantly, arms and legs spread out to the sides as if to emphasize the marvel of it all, and he hadn’t even deflated much when Pomni mumbled her flat remark about an exit.

[jrueships]

IM GONNA CRASHHHHHH

[sorchathered]

I never feel more like the crypt keeper on this app than when I’m trying to update links. I’m trying my best 😫😫😫

[dudefrommywesterns]

Title: Aw, C'mon

Ship: Mike x Bill Baker

Words: 970

Description: Mike is trying, and failing, to write an essay. Bill interrupts.

Mike spun their pen between their fingers. The ideas for this essay simply weren’t coming. Across a sheet of lined paper they’d scribbled vague concept after vague concept but none stuck. What about? No, that’s overdone. Then, there could be– that’s a stretch. On page 70…would that make a long enough essay? 

A knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Mike said, not looking up from their paper. 

The door opened. 

What was that term? Their professor said it at least twice…maybe it was in their notes. Where had they put their notebook? They spun their pen again. 

A scrambled bit of speech hit their ears. Oh, that’s right, someone had come in. What did they want? 

“You study too hard,” Mike heard finally. They looked up and found their boyfriend Bill, peering over their shoulder. How long had he been like that? 

“Mm, no, I never do enough.” 

They turned back to their scribbles. Now that their head had cleared, they realized it was an incomprehensible mess. They crumbled the paper and threw it in the trash can. They pulled out another piece. 

Bill tapped their shoulder. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head? Hm?” 

“Nothing,” Mike complained. “Not a damn thing.” 

“I doubt that,” he said, with a chuckle. “You do more thinking than anybody.”

That was hardly true. Or, if it was, most of their thoughts were more useless. 

“Not any useful thinking.” 

Bill’s breath warmed their neck, causing a shiver down their spine. Why did he have to get so close? How could they do any thinking now? 

“You’re the smartest person on campus,” Bill said, without a hint of exaggeration or comedy. 

“You have to say that,” Mike said. “You’d be a terrible boyfriend if you didn’t.” 

“Doesn’t make it a lie.” 

No, but…

“It makes it biased.” 

“You know I’m not the only one who thinks that.” 

“Junior too?” Mike joked. 

“Sure. Your professors, too. If they don’t, they’re wrong.” 

Mike scoffed. “Are you trying to give me a pep talk or an inflated ego?” 

He wrapped his arms around their middle. They could smell his cologne…warm, a bit like amber…a knockoff of something… The fabric of his sweater warmed them, even through their blouse. He was soothingly, addictingly, warm. Mike’s skin, prone to chill, craved him. 

Essay. Due. Next week. Five pages. Handwritten. Still no topic. 

This boy was not about to tank their grade. 

They stared down at their new blank page. They closed their eyes, trying to imagine their finished essay. 

Lips ghosted their neck. Their eyes snapped open. What was he trying to do? Why was he here? 

“Bill,” Mike asked gently. “What do you want?” 

“You,” he said simply. 

That much was clear. 

“What do you want with me?” they pressed. 

He pressed his lips to their neck, as if to answer their question. 

“Take a break?” he asked, almost insisting. 

“Don’t you have homework?” Mike asked. 

“I’d rather study you.” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

They rolled their eyes, fondly. “You don’t study hard enough.” 

“You, I do. Quiz me.” 

His lips brushed their ear. Mike waved their hand, like swatting a fly. 

“Unless you have an idea for my essay, the door is over there.” 

“Maybe a break’ll give you inspiration.” 

He moved away from their neck and sat on their desk. Boy, he looked pretty today. The smile playing at his lips, the dark green of his sweater. He was such an enticing distraction. 

Essay due…next week…

“Baby,” Mike pleaded, “Please go, I gotta write five pages.” 

Bill glanced at their blank page and pointed out, “Looks like you aren’t getting any done.” 

That was true. They hadn’t gotten a single useful word in the last hour. They had to, though. They had to write this paper. 

But Bill, oh, look at him. He leaned in, and their eyes got caught on his lips. They looked soft, plush. Did he want a kiss? He sure looked like he was begging for a kiss. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he teased. 

No, not that tone. Not the one that would annoy them if it was anyone else. It was adorable when he did it, somewhere between coaxing and pestering. 

“Kiss me,” he repeated, in that same tone. 

Oh, they wanted to. How often did guys look at them with such gentle eyes, pleading to be kissed? They knew now why everyone told them to stick to books and keep from boys. 

“C’mon.” 

They put down their pen, and he leaned in closer. What was the point in resisting? Their essay could be written later, Bill was right here, right now. 

They pulled him into a kiss by his shirt collar. When their lips touched, they knew it was the right choice. They’d needed that kiss. 

Right after, came another kiss, much gentler. And another, and another. 

“You’re bad news for my grades,” Mike said, after they pulled apart. 

He smiled his world-ending smile, the one with teeth showing and eyes glittering. They could care later, when he wasn’t smiling at them like that. 

He slid off the desk, and came behind them again, engulfing them in a hug. They had no frame of reference, but they were sure that Bill’s hugs were their favorite. 

He took a deep breath. 

“How about we hug for a while?” he suggested. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a hug.” 

It amazed them that he could, so genuinely, want and need to be close to them. He genuinely seemed to desire their affections. 

“Okay,” Mike conceded. “Just a little while.” 

Mike stood, and he pulled them into his chest. They rubbed their face into his sweater, relishing in its softness. When they looked up at him, he’d closed his eyes. He hummed in contentment. Their heart swelled, and they squished themselves against him. Comfy, cozy, just right. 

[shhisp]

girlfriend (@brograndpa) and i have written PRIMO BROGRANDPA FANFIC in 2023!!! READ HERE!!!!!!

[nosfelixculpa]

let the light in

after making it back from quadratum, riku begins to doubt if he's really the right one for sora ________ follow up to i want you for a lifetime

read on ao3 here