#Atlas Typewriter

[happywebdesign]

Dinesen Pawson

[a-flying-fortress]

✈︎ grem/gremlin

✈︎ 21+

✈︎ they/he

✈︎ archaeology major! secondary study is (early) us history.

✈︎ commission status: open

✈︎ my shit: the-gremlins-hotel | twitter

✈︎ tag guide: 

words from a gremlin 

interests: trowel and bone | over the sands of time | making my tracks | armor row | dream of flight | flying fortress rule | fire away | upon the seven mighty seas | from the front | beyond the sky | science speaks | from the messenger pigeon | treasures of the earth | 24 frames of passion | moontower records

hobbies: art is pain | tips for the typewriter

fandom rbs: hetalia | atla | gravity falls | art

other: archaeologist humor | based posts | other rbs | laugh rule | tiger rule

[dudeshusband]

Not on anon cos that’s for weenies but I think you’re canny and even if we don’t talk much and that’s on me because I’m shy- I think a lot of your writing and what you do and who you love!

It makes me feel inspired! It’s great!

that's partly on me too. i don't tend to reach out.

thank you so much.

i think you're a very lovely person and i'm always glad to have you around.

[shrimpscream]

Bruh-

Disney+ be censoring Mothman’s crotch like

There ain’t got no dick on that statue. What is there to censor?

[dirtyriver]

From Mystery Tales #24

A Weird Cast of Characters! - art by Jay Scott Pike (1954)

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[kthecritter]

hey Eli!! Mayhaps I request a userbox?

I’d like it to say “this pirate is unhealthily obsessed with only murders in the building” and have a red or dark blue background (you choose). I’d like the photo to be of Oliver, Mabel, and Charles (the main three characters) but other than that I don’t care what season or episode it’s from. I also don’t mind what font, but something typewriter-y would be nice

thank you so much in advance, Elliott!!

-Atlas

here you go, I hope you enjoy! I’ve never heard of this series but it looks pretty interesting :3

[prettiyu]

Straight from the Tortured Poets Department.

—iyu, [i-you]. throwing away my potential. drowning in my sorrows. romanticising my issues. blocking out the world.

nineteen. she/they. cabin 15. ravenclaw. intp. marauders era enthusiast. gargantuan yapper. pippa fitz amobi irl. tony stark's protégé. married to percy jackson for 9 years. folklore, evermore, and ttpd girlie. in love with fictional men and women.

╰┈➤ links: spotify

╰┈➤ fandoms/books/series: hp, atla, pjo, the poppy war, tfota, agggtm, the secret history, six of crows, the inhertance games, shatter me, caraval, the scream movies, hannibal, dc, mcu, arcane, star wars, hunger games, maze runner, tsoiaf, hotd, and more.

╰┈➤ games: tlou, cod, resident evil, fnaf, detroit become human, omori, minecraft, genshin impact, honkai star rail.

╰┈➤ music: taylor swift, chappel roan, gracie abrams, lana del rey, the neighbourhood, radiohead, the 1975, chase atlantic.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ babygirls: far too many to fit in a tumblr post tbh. it's a whore thing :3

"Who uses typewriters anyway?"

[strawberry-selfships]

characters im considering handing the blog to for f/ovember (i gotta start thinkin abt it) -niles caulder (hes 100% guaranteed, he Will be there) -the first doctor -strax -j jonah jameson -timothy cavendish??? if i can get my ass to rewatch cloud atlas then maybe I can convince him to get him to bring out his typewriter and talk to my mutuals. -fletcher -bilis manger -davros.................. -tenth doctor(platonic) -eleventh doctor (platonic)

we'll see

[thesefevereddays]

Morning

By Billy Collins

Why do we bother with the rest of the day,

the swale of the afternoon,

the sudden dip into evening,

then night with his notorious perfumes,

his many-pointed stars?

This is the best—

throwing off the light covers,

feet on the cold floor,

and buzzing around the house on espresso—

maybe a splash of water on the face,

a palmful of vitamins—

but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso,

dictionary and atlas open on the rug,

the typewriter waiting for the key of the head,

a cello on the radio,

and, if necessary, the windows—

trees fifty, a hundred years old

out there,

heavy clouds on the way

and the lawn steaming like a horse

in the early morning.

[dudeshusband]

💌 Not sure if this is considered a confession but I think you're really cool and your sense in films and fave characters IS VERY GOOD yes! (@atlas-parcae)

thank you! :D

send me a confession + 💌

[biglisbonnews]

Puzzle Monday: Be My AO Valentine Crossword This Atlas Obscura–themed crossword comes from independent crossword constructor Brendan Emmett Quigley. He has been a professional puzzlemaker since 1996, and his pieces have appeared in dozens of publications. He's also a member of the Boston Typewriter Orchestra. You can solve the puzzle below, or download it in .pdf or .puz. Note that the links in the clues will take you to Atlas Obscura pages that contain the answer. Happy solving! https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/crossword-quigley-be-my-ao-valentine

[myfontz]

[happywebdesign]

jlap.com

[yourheartonfire]

Hi! If it isn't too much trouble could you please continue the prompt fill you did about protagonist x hero being soulmates?

(This one:

https://yourheartonfire.tumblr.com/post/674267785228124160/its-not-so-much-that-i-dont-believe-youre-my )

If you can't that's totally okay though! Have a nice day!💜

Thanks for the request! This is a favorite of mine. The first part of the soulmate programme story can be found here, courtesy of a prompt from @the-modern-typewriter

As was decidedly not traditional, their second meeting was in the middle of a city-shattering super-powered fight.

"Oh! Hey!" the hero gasped, holding the collapsing ceiling up like Atlas. "It's really nice to see you."

As one, all the other trapped bank customers turned to stare at the protagonist. 

"Don't just gawk! Run for your lives!" the protagonist yelled at them, shoving the nearest of their fellow citizens towards the opening the hero was holding.

Self-preservation won out over curiosity. There was a stampede towards safety with the protagonist at the back, shooing out the stragglers. 

"How... How've you been?" the hero grunted as the tonnes of concrete and marble drove them to a knee.

"Stressed," the protagonist snapped, pushing a trembling teller under the hero's arm into the dusty sunlight. "You're going to pretend like you didn't know I was in here?"

It was a guess, but the hero's shamefaced look confirmed it. The protagonist hissed under their breath, stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the crashes and screams from outside. "You've been listening in on me?"

"I've been trying to give you space," the hero muttered. "It's not like I can help-" Abruptly their head swiveled, eyes widening at something only they could detect. "Get out, get out now!" they barked.

The protagonist flung themselves ungracefully through the narrow opening. There was no way to avoid squirming against the hero's body. No way not to notice the strain in those muscles, the all too human smell of sweat and singe and fear.

The protagonist wriggled and kicked their way up into the dust-filled sunshine. And found themselves looking straight into the barrel of a viciously sleek gun.

"Well, hello there, little ant," drawled the villain, crackling with radiation-green energy. They clicked by the trigger - and paused, tilted their head. "Now, why do you look familiar?"

They were interrupted by a sudden shadow, a loud boom. Above them the much abused building let out a final groan and began to collapse in terrifying slow motion. 

The villain leapt backwards, defensive shield shimmering into place. The protagonist flung up their hands in a pitifully weak defense - and a freight train crashed into them. A freight train with strong arms, and the power of flight, and brilliant blue eyes steely with focus. 

The hero soared them upwards through the falling debris, as graceful as a panther loping through the tree tops. They emerged above the rubble field as the last of the protagonist's bank branch collapsed into a cloud of particles.

The hero landed them on the nearest undamaged building. "Stay here," they barked and zoomed away fast enough to blow a cloud of dust off the protagonist's clothes in their wake.

The protagonist's shaky legs collapsed beneath them. They were exactly where the hero had left them when they returned a lifetime later.

The hero didn't so much land as they dropped out of the sky, immediately going to a knee, their back heaving with every breath. The protagonist bit back the angry speech they'd been planning for the last five minutes. It might be a trick, a bid for sympathy. Or...

Silently, the protagonist fished their water bottle from the side of their backpack, offered it up.

"Thank you," the hero rasped and chugged the contents down.

"Well, thank you," the protagonist said evenly, "For saving my life." There was a pause. "Can you please put me back on the ground now?"

The hero choked mid sip. "Seriously? That's it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," the protagonist snapped back. "Do I owe you a sexual favor now, or are you the chaste kiss and a token of your regard type?"

"That's not what I... Argh!" The hero made a frustrated noise and flung the water bottle across the roof top. The aluminum crumpled on impact. "You just saw all that? What I deal with every day? And you still think I'm the bad guy?"

The protagonist wrapped their arms more tightly around themselves, trying to stop the uncontrollable shivering. "I wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if the government didn't deputize you to conduct these massive, high collateral battles in the city core-"

"That's not what I meant either." The hero drew closer, stopping as the protagonist flinched. "Why are you fighting this? I know I'm not perfect. But... this could be good. I could be good. For you. For us."

"There is no us," the protagonist snarled. "I don't care what some government algorithm says."

The hero spread their hands beseechingly. "You want a love to come home to. Isn't that what you asked the programme for? A love to make you feel safe. I know you see me as a symbol but I'm not the government, I'm a person. And in the whole wide world, what other person can protect you better than me?"

The protagonist took a shuddering breath and stared down at their knees, away from that pleading gaze. "You're not the government but you take your cues from them- you don't know how to not leverage your power."

The hero blinked. "What do you-?"

The protagonist ticked the list off on their fingers. "You use your abilities to keep track of me, use your connections to get my supposedly confidential soulmate profile. Even my grocery orders arent safe from you."

The hero swallowed. "Okay. I... can see how that came off wrong-"

"And even today, your first instinct wasn't to get me to safety. It was to stash me up here-" they waved a hand at the windswept rooftop- "where I couldn't get down or get away until you came back, like an object put on a shelf so you could find it later at your convenience. And this is you trying to be nice." The protagonist swiped at their watering eyes, pulled their knees in closer. "You make me feel the opposite of safe."

The hero went absolutely still. For a long moment all was quiet as the wind whistled across the rooftop between them, leaving more soot and ash and dust.

Then the protagonist coughed and the hero stood, held out a hand with stiff formality. "I'll have to touch you to get you home," they said, tone perfectly flat. "Or down. Wherever you want me to, um. Put you."

"Down is fine," the protagonist said, trying to sound just as flat and neutral, and they took the extended hand.

That night, the doorbell rang and the protagonist opened their apartment door to find a new water bottle and a neat stack of twelve manila envelopes packaged up on their doorstep. Twelve soulmate programme submissions, one for each year. Not just the raw answers but the brutally frank psychological analysis of the hero's mind and soul.

The protagonist chucked the whole package in the bin and went to bed. At three am, they gave up on sleep and fished the hero's soulmate profiles from the trash. They read every single page.

Now continued here

[dudeshusband]

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

thank you!!!