pity the fool

How many times am I going to tag a WIP with something along the lines of “dumbshit men in their early twenties doing dumbshit things”

I keep worrying I’m going to break this typewriter, but it survived almost a century and was meant to keep surviving. So idk what damage I can actually inflict on this heavy hunk of metal without going out of my way to do so.

How the fuck do people still find the “no heaven” series. That thing guilt trips me everyday.

If you’re going to vibe code your way through product development and offload quality control onto me as your user, you should at least give me a way to report your stupid fucking bugs that shouldn’t be happening and prompt inject poison into your systems through that feedback form.

The more I learn about fiber arts and needlework through these stupidly intense projects I inflict upon myself, the more crazed I get about the role that textiles should have within worldbuilding and fic.

What feels like increasingly every week: why the fuck are you drawn like that

What’s the point of Discowing if I can’t chase him with Village People blasting out of a beat box and causing a noise citation.

In other news, still seriously thinking about giving the court of owls a PAC in the eminent domain fic because I think it would be funny.

[rattling ao3] no, by cold war I mean Cold War cold war. I mean MKUltra circular death spiral feedback loop of nonsense influencing each other and the wild flavors of nuclear apocalypse paranoia fear mongering smashed back into comics verse through the medium of modern fic. Why are you all set in the 21st century. Surely some of you tackled half a century ago.

Maybe getting started on a cross stitch project with 360k stitches in it isn’t a good idea, but it is great for stirring up frantic thoughts about tapestries and cloth production and dowries and textiles in different fic contexts.

Every four years, I’m reminded that men’s soccer players are still like that.