Gen Z weeb girl force dyad
Read to the end for a cool recipe
A Bad Baby Yoda Tweet
Oh wait, though, this tweet makes it worse.
This Video Feels Like Staring Directly Into The Sun
Somehow this video starts with the line “I live in immigrant housing with a bunch of other undocumented people” and a shot of this girl juuling and then keeps upping the ante until it practically crescendos with her talking about Bobby Shmurda. I have purposefully chosen not to do any sort of digging into whether or not this is real or staged or what. I just want to take it for what it is. Also:
Gen Z weeb girl force dyad.
Stray Cat J Update
A few weeks ago I introduced you all to Stray Cat J, a Tumblr user who roleplays as her foster cat J. I love him. He’s very surly and always getting into fights with his landlady. Apparently he’s been breaking paper doors. J!!
The Great Car Blog Feud
If you don’t know, there’s a pretty popular Tumblr called shitty-car-mods-daily. A while ago, people started getting upset at the car mods that shitty-car-mods-daily was classifying as shitty. So someone made cool-car-mods-daily. There’s obviously a lot of friction between the two accounts, as they go back and forth about whether a particular car mod is shitty or cool. A few weeks ago, the car mods blogs got into it again over this car:
Should Old Memes Be Forgot?
Remember this old guy?
Well now he’s got a nice new 2020 update!
The more things change, etc.
Speaking Of Memes, A Prediction
I think 2020 will be the year that internet culture gets too bloated and recursive and implodes in on itself and we end up with a complete dadaist communication fracture. Basically, like if you haven’t spent every waking moment online since 2015 you’ll be almost completely unable to understand viral content. Why do I think this? Because of this video:
he do be quenching his thirst tho. damn.
Finally, The Last Of The Folgers Incest Stuff
There is A LOT of Folgers fanfic on Archive Of Our Own. A lot of it is impressively graphic. This is from a fic titled “Waking Up”. The tagline for it is, “Coming home from living abroad, a brother finally succumbs to the dark desire that send him into exile.” It’s 3,000 words and from a quick scan it sounds like a lot of it is actually about coffee. Anyways, here’s a choice selection:
“You’re my present,” she whispered and bit her lip.
I had to look away from her. I felt my pulse quickening. I looked to the stairs instinctively, to my parents’ room.
“I asked them to give us some time,” she said, her face becoming serious.
“They say they know how much I missed you, but they don’t know, not really,” she said, looking up at me, her eyes wet.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I felt like I was standing on a ledge.
“I have something for you too,” she said, suddenly chipper again, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“More bad coffee?” I asked.
She wrinkled her brow, not understanding.
“No, it’s something I saved for you,” she said, picking up my bag.
“Follow me,” she said, looking uncomfortable carrying the giant rucksack that held most of my worldly possessions.
“So I saved this thing to give to you, and it was kinda difficult to save. I almost lost it a bunch of times, but every time I thought of you and held on to it,” she said, mysteriously, leading me to my old room down in the basement.
And here’s a selection from another fic titled, “Sleep On The Floor,” which is less racy, but I think it’s a lot more intense emotionally. It’s only 1,000 words.
As he stuffs it into his case something else catches his eye. It’s a small red bow, the cheap stick-on kind, stuck to the corner of a photo of him and Catherine on his bedside table. It was never meant to mean anything; he bought the thing last-minute at the airport as a quick way to spruce up his Christmas present to her. But when he gave it to her she smiled in that way only she could, that way that made his heart leap, and stuck it on his sweater, declaring that he was her present this year.
He wore it all Christmas Day, a blatant symbol of their affection, something more concrete than just lingering gazes and gentle brushing of hands, but one that their parents would never suspect. And in the few days since he kept it carefully, ready to take back with him as a memento. He gave up long ago trying to forget his feelings for her while out in Africa, and now he looks forwards to having a reminder of her with him.
There is a knock at the door. He sits up, not needing to reply, and it creaks open to reveal her standing there. Her hands are clasped together, and her smile is small and sad. She is always like this when he has to leave, and he frowns at the sight.
“Brother?” she asks. He forces a smile.
“Can I talk to you?” Her voice is quiet, hushed, for fear of waking their parents. It’s a routine he knows well.
“Always,” he returns, sitting up onto the bed and patting the messy covers beside him. She plops herself down beside, gently leaning into him. One of her hands worms its way into his, and she sighs.
Anyways, that’s all folks! Hope you enjoyed that. Remember — everyone on the internet is a deranged pervert whose brain has been permanently damaged by overexposure to mass media. See you in 2020!
P.S. here’s that cool recipe.
***All typos in this letter are on purpose actually***