Stressed. Depressed. But always well dressed.

This fan fiction is older than the push-through tabs on soda cans.

Your grandma wrote this on her Commodore 64.

I miss my Commodore 64

Oh my dear, sweet children. The Commodore 64 came out in 1982. This was produced on a typewriter and probably mimeographed. And while it may seem funny now, it took more courage to write and distribute this than you will ever  know.

Reblogged for that last comment.

respect your elders

Children, in the olden days fanfiction was written on a typewriter, copied and sent by snail mail. Getting one one of those letters from across the world was every bit as exciting as getting a notification that your favorite writer posted a new fic.

The precedent line is especially amusing when you bear in mind that “A Fragment Out of Time” is not only the first Star Trek slashfic to be published in a widely distributed magazine: it’s believed by some to be the first slashfic of any kind to be widely published.

In 1974 it was illegal to send pornography through the USPS. So distributing fic like this via mailed newsletter was literally dangerous. And they knew it.

I mean i quite like my brain, i’m really very fond of it i just think it’s a design failure that i can’t pop it out of the ole skull basket every night and plug it in to recharge. travesty really

This is brainwashing propaganda

me checking out 4 books from the library: surely this time i will be able to complete all of these full length novels within 3 weeks despite never having succeeded in the past

ok i really mean it this time

Free service with no ads: Okay so these guys are stealing my data

this is the one meme that manages to age like a fine wine

weighted blanket's not enough i need to be compressed by a hydraulic press

Gen AI is nothing special I can also draw / write badly, help you with math inconsistently, answer you dubiously, and consume amounts of water you would think are physically impossible

they're executing the count from sesame street for violating the masquerade

been stewing on an analytical approach to fiction which I call "is this book afraid of me?" and in order to answer this question you determine how hard the book is trying to make sure you don't come after the writer on twitter

Please keep making art. Please make it for yourself. Please don’t let everything become even more of the same flat general appeal nonsense that doesn’t seem to have anything to say