50+ videos Play all Mix - MYSM - Fucked Up Today YouTube; ElektroBin - Her Eyes - Duration: 4:49. Chill Masters 41,470 views. 4:49. Heart ... Today I Fucked Up is a community for the dumbass in all of us. We all have those moments where we do something ridiculously stupid. Let us make each other feel better about ourselves. Today, I f*cked up by stuffing my face with edibles before dinner with my wife’s parents. Recently, I traveled to Denver, Colorado with my wife and my wife’s parents. As a resident of a non-legalized state – and as someone who is too much of a pussy to regularly buy illegal drugs – the thing I was looking forward to most was the chance ... Today, I fucked up my whole life. My regrets as a 46 year old, and advice to others at a crossroad. TIFU. More like more whole life really. Hi, I my name’s John. I’ve been lurking for a while, but I’ve finally made an account to post this. I need to get my life off my chest. About me. Today I fucked up by giving in. Im gonna start by saying that i have a really hard time sharing my own thoughts with anyone and this is the first time Im doing it, and i got no clue what Im doing now. little bit background, Ive been having trouble with feeling anything at all since I was a kid. im 29 now. Today_I_fucked_up -3 points-2 points-1 points 6 years ago I feel like most of the people commenting on this are missing the fact that this is the daughter of the woman saying it. So it is probably a running family joke. Today I Fucked Up By r/ TIFUB. Join. hot. hot new top rising. hot. new. top. rising. card. card classic compact. 15. Posted by 1 day ago. Taking my friends atv out at night. 10pm. Dark. Buddy says let’s go for a ride down the path. Ok, I borrowed my other buds atv. But then he took a hill. Ok up no problem. You Cheered as He Fucked Up. No Take Backs, Trumpists. ... before it was called a pandemic” were capped by today's gem about how “It kind of snuck up on us.” This is a president, and a White ... Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube. Today, I f*cked up by simultaneously ending world hunger and destroying the world. Approximately 5-6 years ago as a nerdy 12 year old I had found a small minecraft server. This server was basically about 100 people building extravagant designs. These people put a lot of work into this server, like up to hundreds of hours each.
2012.03.04 02:45 kinda_alone Today I Fucked Up
2020.09.22 06:47 DaddyFrankThick Nude my mom
So this happened two days ago but I just now got home.The night starts off with Me,D and J hanging out smoking in D’s dads backyard before going to Jessica’s to spend the night and fry.I call up her brother to ask him about his shit and he starts acting like he’s the plug.I asked him a few questions and he got pissed off then told me to get sum from someone else.Luckily Jessica offers to buy it for me
We rode our boards the few miles to Jessica’s and stopped at a few skate spots before heading inside.Me and D managed to both eat shit while J was watching so we just limped inside.Only us and Js brother were home at the time so it seemed like a good night to fry.
Me and d gave J 26 bucks for 2 “150 mic gel tabs” of lsd(she got them from her brother).We aren’t new to lsd or it’s analogues so I wasn’t scared,but I was skeptical considering her brothers a legit psychopath.
We went back to Js room to hangout and smoke more while I put the 2 tabs on my tongue and noticed that once I got thru the top layer of the tab it felt like glass slit my tongue up,wtf.I got D to see if it did the same to him and after 3 seconds he said it did it to him too.I tried to find out what the fuck I just sucked in and I realize that it’s sum shitty analogue.
00:05,I already feel it,time is irrelevant.I can already tell my vessels are constricting and that takes my mind off my tongue.
00:15,It feels like it’s been an hour,D says he’s tripping just as hard(he doesn’t do a lot).I can already feel heavy constriction so I smoked a bowl hoping it will help.Me and d were talking about scaring the fuck out of him but decided to deal with it when we wake up.J was getting fed up with our high asses and wanted to fuck D so I got sent out.I had to have Jessica guide me thru her hall because I couldn’t tell where I was.
01:00,I’m laying in her brothers bed and it smacks me.I can see mountains in darkness and the tracers are heavier than they are on an eighth of gooms.The body high can be described as running a marathon from your couch,but the weed helped atleast.
01:15,Eventually I start lookin at sum of my girls nudes and then all of a sudden I’m in some wet ass pussy.If I didn’t know I don’t think I could but that was fucking crazy.I could also manifest her see thru naked body riding me along with the sensation.I didn’t even have to do anything,it was all in my head.I also couldn’t nut and I didn’t really plan on it.It wasn’t extremely vivid or anything,but kind of like a ghost.
01:30,After awhile I get invited back in and apparently they couldn’t even do anything cuz homie was tripping too hard.Jessica is now visibly pissed off and wants me gone,D bats for me to stay tho cuz I didn’t have a ride and I live miles away.I don’t blame her tho I was wildin,me and D were manically laughing and growling at anything.I was spitting all over and couldn’t aim cuz I was so high.Nothing felt real tho,all tweak no love.Complete scatter brain,I could never finish what I was doing which is unusable because I can usually function on heroic doses fairly easily.
03:00,Damian steps in some of my spit and takes off his sock.He proclaims it as his cum sick and we start dying,I come up with the great idea of throwing the sock in Js face.She was not happy and I came down off the wave as I did it.I said I was sorry and felt really bad,I still couldn’t help but manically laugh even while being sincere.tMe and D both got sentenced to the back porch and got a lecture anyways,we were too high to care anyways tho.
We rode out the rest of the night smoking bowl after bowl of jager shake on the porch before we felt like we could sleep.I was sending Jessica memes for a couple hours in bed after Damian passed out with her.We woke up tripping the next day and the constriction was still there.Js brother left for work before we woke up so I went in his room and took a sandwich bag with 30$ in it.He had a nice razer headset I wanted but J was legit scared for her and her cat so I just took my money and punked his ass.He ended up sending me and his sister death threats,punched her mirror,told his mom then had the nerve to tell me to bring him his money.Even after I told him she had nothing to do with it and that he should be texting me and not taking his anger out on his sister.I sent him a picture of me with his money and flipping him off with an addy but he didn’t pull up.He saw the message then saw me a minute after too and didn’t even look at me💀😂 I wouldn’t have even seen him coming either I was too high.The guy finally ate some today and apparently he was puking in his bed the whole time.I ate twice as much as him too.
I posted this on the research chemical sub and apparently my stories fake as fuck so I added some more detail and clarified some things.I honestly have no idea what the fuck that was but it was definitely not pure lsd
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2020.09.22 03:59 _-Skatki-_ My mom nude
You see, my state is enforcing a mask mandate, and so if you go out in public, you MUST wear a mask. On Friday, two of the gym coaches and most of the kids in my gym class weren't abiding by this rule, and so I asked my mom what she wanted me to do. She told me to take pictures of everyone who wasn't wearing a mask, and to report ALL of them to the principal. So, I took pictures, sent them to my mom and dad(they are very strict on the mask mandate because my little brother is one step away from getting written up due to having his mask pulled down under his nose). After that I logged into our school's information system to check my attendance and make sure I'd been counted as E-present for the day before, and I wasn't. I went up to the coaches table and asked them if I could go to the front office to settle an attendance issue. They said yes. When I got there, and took out my phone to pull up my attendance and proof that I had messaged my teachers and they'd sent me my work from last Thursday(the day that I missed), I saw my mom had messaged me and told me to go ahead and report them while I was in the office. I did, and I thought that would be the end of it.
Well, I thought wrong. I got into second period, and the PE coaches called everyone to their table. They were going to make everyone put their phones into a box, where the phones wouldn't be monitored, and anyone could take any phone if they claimed it was theirs. I've had my phone stolen in the past, and my parents are strictly against this. They couldn't find their box-- luckily-- and sent everyone away. Except me. One of the coaches, who teaches driver's ed, we'll call him DC, spoke first.
"How would you like it if I took pictures of you and spread them all around?" DC asked me in a very harsh, rude tone. I'm not good with confrontation, and I have a severe anxiety disorder. I immediately started shaking. I tried to answer, and tell him that I wouldn't mind as long as it wasn't a picture of me that showed me either nude, in a lewd position, etc. He cut me off, saying, "you wouldn't like it!" At this point, my gym coach, who we will call GC, stepped in as well.
"When you asked on Friday if you could go fix an attendance issue, did you REALLY go to fix an attendance issue?" He was a lot more calm, and seemed a lot less bothered. That still didn't calm me down.
"Yes, sir. I missed Thursday, but since I'm in AP classes-- I can give you my schedule to prove it-- my teachers use Google classroom instead of edgenuity when we miss school if we are face to face students. I had been wrongly marked absent, despite completing my class work online, meaning that I was, in fact, E-present and should have been marked as such." I was stuttering and fidgeting and starting to slowly realize that I was about to have the biggest mental breakdown I have ever had in my LIFE. The entire time that I had been explaining this, DC was waving his arms in the air and yelling "she's lying! She's lying!"
"Well, when did you report us for not wearing masks?" GC asked, he was still calm. I really appreciated how calm he stayed, unlike DC.
"When I got into the attendance office and pulled out my phone to show them where I had gotten confirmation with my teachers that they had recieved the assignments in Google classroom, my mom had texted me and told me to go ahead and report you to the principal while I was in the office. So I asked if I could speak to (principal), and they sent me to (vice principal)."
GC nodded, and then looked at me in the eyes. "Well, I'm going to take my mask off to take a sip of my coffee, please don't take a picture of me. I'm allowed to take my mask off tk eat and drink whenever I want to." He said this in a very condescending way, and I just stood there, shaking, tearing up, and looking at the floor. He must have noticed this, because he waved me off with his hand, like you would do to a fly.
I quietly walked back to my seat on the bleachers, sat down, and burst into tears. I immediately texted my mom, begging her to switch me from face to face classes to online classes, and she told me to call her right then and there. Of course, I did, and tried talking to her through tears. She heard me crying and lost her mind. She had me hang up and text her everything they said to me, and she called my dad and told him to handle it before she went up to the school and threw down.
Here's the thing about my dad: he's a store manager at a rather large grocery chain here in the south east. He deals with people who believe that they are above the law ALL the time. He's a huge family man, I love him with every fiber of my being. If he feels like his family has been wronged by someone, he is going to be one hundred percent sure that it is taken care of. He called the vice principal, VP, and explained to him that the VP had one chance to resolve the situation. And if it wasn't resolved, he was going to handle it HIS way. After their conversation, the VP called my mom, who told him that if it wasn't handled, she's taking it to the news, and to court. She used to work for a law firm, and she knows for a fact that the school would NOT end up on top.
I cried for the entire 55 minute period, and when I got out of the class, VP was waiting for me, and took me into his office. He waited for me to calm down a bit before talking to me, and he told me that I was in the wrong for taking their pictures without ther permission. He said that the way the coaches reacted was completely understandable, and that he would "talk" to them about it. He then reminded me that his door is always open, and sent me on my way.
I continued to cry and break down throughout two class periods. I failed a math quiz and my history notes are full of wet spots where my tears had somehow fallen through my glasses and onto my paper. I'd never been spoken to that way by an adult that I don't know personally. If it was another kid who'd said that stuff to me, I wouldn't be so bothered. But it was two grown men, who are at least in their thirties. And that's what got me the most.
My mom arrived in fifth period to pick me up. We went to VP's office where he said that the coaches claimed to be "joking around". I don't think they were joking. If they were, it wasn't very funny. My mom hugged me when we got outside of the school. I broke down again when I got into her car and cried the entire way home. I'm crying again now while writing this. I just don't know what to do. I'm afraid to go back in there because I'm afraid of what they'll do or say. My dad told me to call him if they say anything to me, but I'm afraid that they're(the coaches) going to take my phone from me and I won't have any way to contact my dad for help.
I'm AFAB, 16 years old, 5'2, and 100lbs. I can't stand up for myself. I rely a lot on my parents in situations like this. I just can't handle the pressure. Please, someone tell me that I'm not in the wrong to feel this way.
TLDR: My gym teachers were mad that I called them out for not wearing masks/that I took a singular picture of them to show the principal. They retaliate by calling me out in front of the class, calling me a liar, and threatening to take my cell phone.
11:45PM edit: I just took three melatonins because I have to be awake again in six hours, so I'll respond to any comments in the morning. Have a nice day/night, everyone who happens to read this far.
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2020.09.21 23:51 throwraspicyrobot12 My mom nude
I've been married to my wife for nearly 2 years. No kids no property. We have been in a deadbedroom since shortly before the wedding. We went to counseling and it failed. I considered leaving if she didn't get any additional help. I recently found out that she's been in a sexual/emotional affair with an old college friend for over a year. Based on evidence, It has taken place at his place, as well as ours. Unprotected. It has gone on before and long after our counseling ended. When confronted, she tried lying until I showed her the evidence. She apologized repeatedly. She told me that I am a good person, and she won't be able to live with herself for what she did. Like me, she had to take a few days off of work due to her emotional state. I have filed for annulment. This was my first relationship and sexual partner. I am heartbroken.
After she was served, she moved in with her sister. She became mean when she found out that I'd be taking all of the furniture, which I paid for before marriage. In the past, I said that I would split my furniture if we divorced (on good terms). Since then, she's blocked me on social media, and we haven't spoken in months.
I know I deserve better. I can say with confidence that I went above and beyond for her. I never broke our vows. One day, I wonder if she will realize what she's lost. I've been fortunate enough to have supportive friends, family, and close co-workers in my corner during this tough time. They tell me that things will get better, and I will find a much better partner one day. They say someone who loves and respects me enough to not hurt me is out there. My therapist has been amazing as well. Honestly, I don't know where I would be mentally without them all. Sometimes, I still get these thoughts in my head that I may have acted too quickly with my STBX. She sounded truly remorseful in her message after D-Day. She willingly withstood my anger and insults, and said she would prove herself to earn back my trust. She prayed for my forgiveness. I do miss her at times. I loved our house, her family, and we had great times together. It felt like we were made for each other.
My marriage would be considered emotionally abusive by some. She didn't mention her affair during our 6 months of therapy. The explicit messages between her and her AP made me so angry. She invited the AP over to play my PS4 while I was at work. Even her mom knew she was hanging out with her AP. Not sure if she condoned it or not. Before engagement, I caught her flirting with a guy online. She said that nothing sexual happened. I told her to block him, and we worked it out. On D-Day, I found out that she never blocked that guy. He disappeared for a while, before reaching back out. Also, he thanked her for the nudes she sent him.
I know I'm doing the right thing by moving on. I deserve much better. I'm more social, exercising, and eating better. I'm working on new hobbies. Why can't I wire into my brain that my STBX was horrible to me, and I am better off without her? Is this normal?
TLDR: Left my WW. Arguably one of the top 10 betrayals of all time. Why do I occasionally feel like I should have gave her another chance?
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2020.09.21 21:01 naikeez My mom nude
some background about the situation:
i moved into a new neighborhood with my family around two years ago. ever since then, my mom has developed a close relationship with my neighbors on either side as well as across the street. there is a family that lives next door that is a bit intense- extremely conservative, thinks covid-19 is a hoax, are anti-maskers, wife used to be in the adult industry (which isn't really relevant and why would i mind? it's just kind of weird but will expand on that in a bit), etc. i never let this bother me and even developed a close relationship with their two young boys (who are 2M and 5M) and babysit for them occasionally when they need to run errands. the wife has many nude photos on the walls of the house and whenever i would babysit for them, i felt weird seeing kids around that environment, but just try to mind my own business.
my neighbor's kids often play in the street on their little tyke bikes while he stands there doing yard work. whenever i drive past, i always make sure to drive extremely slowly and cautiously just in case. he always appreciates this and gives me a friendly neighborly wave. my boyfriend, who grew up in an extremely bad part of town, hadn't ever really encountered this situation and drove really quickly to my house yesterday because of an emergency. my neighbor's kids were out playing yesterday and as he opened the door, i heard my neighbor yelling at him about slowing down and how there are kids around. i hear him yelling at every car for around twenty minutes every day when his kids are playing. i ended up taking the neighbor's side because, well, kids- their safety matters. my boyfriend, being stressed out and anxious about the emergency that occurred yesterday, told me he probably seemed kind of dismissive to the neighbor and belligerent, answering with only "yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir, sorry". i told him that though the neighbor was being really rude, just make sure to drive slowly around his kids to make sure they don't run into traffic. he agreed gently and told me he was sorry.
just to clarify, my boyfriend has always been respectful (borderline fearful) towards older adults and did apologize, albeit rushingly. he felt bad and has a hard time dealing with being yelled at, especially in the way that he was yelled at. i'm not sure if i did the right thing by telling him i lightly agreed with my neighbor, but i do want to go to my neighbor with something for his kids to tell him i was sorry (mostly for the sake of his kids, i felt bad for them) and resolve the situation. my boyfriend would really be unable to go and confront him head-on like this to say sorry, not due to stubbornness, but his own trauma and issues. since he had already said sorry, i think it would be okay to go next door with some cookies and an apology from myself, right? AITA for this and do i seem too defensive of my boyfriend?
submitted by naikeez to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
2020.09.21 16:48 HaulA21Sepl My mom nude
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2020.09.21 12:10 MikeJesus My mom nude
Before she was the reason I don’t let my children play in the yard after sundown she was our friend.
Even though we moved out to suburbia for a calmer life, three years of interacting with people that were about as interesting as slowly drying paint was starting to take its toll on us. Yes, the house was a great investment. Yes, waking up to a life free of shitty landlords made the morning coffee taste better. Sure, the school district we had moved to would be great for our slowly toothing children. But my wife and me lived an existence about as exciting as our neighbors, which is to say not at all.
When Elizabeth moved into the house opposite ours our life blossomed.
In the morning we noticed moving trucks parked in front of the house across the street. By sundown she was standing at our doorstep with a bottle of wine. She had the dress sense of a college freshman on laundry day, yet along with her youth camp hoodie and pineapple patterned sweatpants Elizabeth rocked an expensive assortment of jewelry. Small runes studded in emerald hung from her earlobes and an intricately carved silver medallion dangled off her neck. An excited fire for conversation burned in her eyes.
She was the type of eccentric that we didn’t want to raise kids around back in the city.
She was the type of eccentric that we so sorely missed in suburbia.
Linda put the kids to bed, I pulled some chairs out on the porch and we opened up Elizabeth’s bottle of red. Soon enough I was fetching another bottle of wine out of the house and looking for something that could double as an ash-tray for our chatty house guest. The more we drank the less me and my wife felt like Mom and Dad, as we swapped eerie stories with our new neighbor bits and pieces of our past started to reemerge. We were still Greg and Linda, functioning adults, but we were also the same Greg and Linda who ate way too many mushrooms at a Russian psy-trance festival less than a decade ago.
After we finished the second bottle of wine I grabbed a couple of beers out of the garage and fished out some weed I had stashed away for a rainy day. In an effort to be eco-friendly the street lamps in our neighborhood never stayed on past midnight. We drank until the only thing cutting through the darkness was the porch light and the night sky.
Halfway through the joint Linda started falling asleep. She excused herself and went to bed. I would have followed my wife, but it felt like a shame to waste half a joint. I bid her goodnight and hoped she would still be up by the time I would get to the bedroom.
“Ever notice anything weird ever happen with my house?” Elizabeth broke the stoned silence we were indulging in. “Like, flashing lights, strange sounds in the middle of the night, spooky stuff.”
The neighborhood was a dark silhouette of repeating architecture, a sky chaotically littered with stars shined above us. I was way too stoned to understand her question.
She passed me the joint. I shook my head.
“Can I let you in on a little secret Greg?” She asked.
“I’ll have to run that by my wife,” I replied.
“Oh, you can tell her, she’s cool,” Elizabeth replied quickly, “Just, I don’t know, if you do end up talking to the neighbors maybe don’t mention it. You guys get it, you’ve spent time around artists. Don’t know if the rest of the neighborhood would be so understanding.”
Thoughts of my cool wife lying in bed upstairs were tugging at my brain but Elizabeth’s hushed tone stirred my interest.
“Alright, as long as it’s not a murder or something then your secret is safe with me and Linda.”
She passed me the joint again. I shook my head again.
“I mean, the secret is concerning murders, multiple murders actually.” She let her words ring out for dramatic effect, enough to send a shiver of discomfort down my spine. “I didn’t kill anyone, but like, four homicides happened in my house,” she added with another puff of smoke.
The shadowy outline of her home looked no different than any of the other houses on the street. “Really?” I asked.
“Yep. 1954, 1982, 1984, 1988. Murder suicides, each one of them.”
“Sounds like the 80s were rough.” I found myself saying.
Elizabeth smiled. “When my pare- When I bought this house I did a bit of research. Murder houses go for cheaper, plus, I figured a murder house could have an interesting vibe for my art.”
I consumed the new information. It was nice to be speaking to someone who wasn’t aggressively boring, but the conversation was getting into the spirit of the 4AM bar-chat that makes hangovers more punishing. I yawned and started to get off my chair. If I didn’t join my wife soon Elizabeth would ramble my ear off about something that was way too eccentric for my tastes.
“Do you believe in places having souls Greg?” she asked before I could make my escape. Linda was always good at leaving parties before the pretentious psychobabble reared its head.
“Nope,” I said, trying to give off a vibe Elizabeth wasn’t catching.
“Well, I do. I think that whatever happens in a specific corner of the world stays with that specific corner of the world for a long time. Ever walked down an old lover’s lane? Or, like, an old battlefield? There’s energy in those places. You can feel it in the air, you walk where others have once walked and feel past lives lived, lost, experienced. The history that tales of human tragedy and love and pain and – oh my god I’m rambling.” She handed me the joint. “Sorry, I haven’t had a proper drink since I came back from Vietnam. Didn’t mean to get all artsy on you.”
“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”
“I can tell,” she said, getting up, “Anywho, if you ever see something eerie going on with the house please do give me a heads up. I think I could really work the spirit of the house into my art.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,” I said, knowing that I wasn’t going to.
Over the next couple of months Elizabeth became a regular visitor at our house. She had zero interest in holding our son and would squirm in discomfort whenever our daughter tried talking to her, but what Elizabeth lacked in child skills she made up for in storytelling finesse. Every week or two she would drop by our porch and we would drink and smoke and talk the night away.
She told us about weird hiking trips she took during her gap year, the motorcycle trip through Afghanistan that her and an ex boyfriend took together, and a variety of other drug hazed tales of exotic lands. Linda and me also found ourselves reminiscing about a more carefree time of our relationships. Those nights always brought a spark of excitement into our routine lives.
But every drunken night had a topic of discussion that made my eyes roll back in my head.
Every time that Elizabeth came over she wanted to talk about the ‘Murder House’. Elizabeth was in love with the name, she was in love with the idea of being surrounded by ghosts of murderers and victims. She was in love with talking about it. I hated that part of the night.
Back then I didn’t believe in ghosts. I just presumed that anything she said about floors creaking when she was home alone or the lights in the kitchen mysteriously turning on in the middle of the night was a flight of her eccentric imagination. I thought she was making stuff up.
Yet Elizabeth’s rants about hearing voices crying through the halls and sensing the energy of the family that was chopped apart by a crazy man with an axe in 1984 were simply sour punctuation on a dwindling night. As soon as she would start talking about spirits Linda and me would yawn and start talking about breakfast.
As unhinged as her rants would get, Elizabeth was very self-aware. She was just fascinated by the whole ghostly aura of her home. Once she would catch herself ranting she would stop, remind us to keep an eye out on the house, and bid us a good night.
I never really paid attention to her rants, I just took Elizabeth’s obsession as a personality quirk that I could handle in weekly bursts. I never considered there might actually be something up with the house.
But one horrible moment changed that.
It was a dark school night. Linda and me had gone overboard with bedtime stories and ended up reading our kids seven chapters of Harry Potter. We were doing voices, milking dramatic pauses, really driving the story home, but we got so into producing our little parental audiobook that we didn’t notice our children had already passed out two chapters ago.
Linda fell asleep quickly that night. I wanted to get some rest too, even attempted counting sheep, but there was something scratching at the back of my chest. It took me a while to admit it to myself, but eventually I accepted that my constant bumming of cigarettes from Elizabeth had developed a nicotine habit in my lungs.
I went outside for a cigarette.
The street lamps were long dark, only silhouettes of suburbia and the night sky remained. From the dim light of my porch I blew puffs of guilty smoke into the abyss and enjoyed the stillness of the night.
A creaking groan cut through that stillness.
A sound of strained wood, a wholly inhuman product, but as the noise crawled into the night I could hear a soft voice beneath it.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this…” Elizabeth whispered out of the dark, “The house, the murder house, it’s making me do this…”
Another wooden strain, but this one was answered by a burst of light. Every window in the house lit up, bringing forth a haggard looking Elizabeth. She was standing at the edge of her front lawn wearing an oversized t-shirt and basketball shorts, her shaking hands pressed behind her back.
“I’m sorry Greg, it’s the murder house, the murder house is making me do this.” Her teeth were chattering. She was barefoot and terrified.
I opened my mouth to say something but my voice got caught in the back of my throat. The light coming from the house took on a fiery quality and burst out into the night with blinding force.
“I’m sorry. The murder house is doing this.” She said, taking a handgun out of the back of her shorts. The nuzzle shook, for a second she aimed the weapon in my direction but then, as if fighting a force inside of her, she pulled the gun back. She placed it in her mouth.
There was another flash of light.
I didn’t tell anyone exactly what happened that night. Elizabeth shooting herself on the front lawn was enough of a shock to begin with. The other details made me doubt my sanity enough to keep them to myself.
Linda had some background in mental health from a couple of certification courses she took back in university. To deal with the trauma of losing her friend to what she thought was suicide, my wife took on a part-time placement in a crisis hotline. I dealt with the shock of Elizabeth’s passing in a less productive fashion. I started smoking.
Every night, after the lights of the neighborhood would die down, I would stand outside and smoke with my eyes focused on that cursed house.
At first I didn’t notice anything, it was as if whatever I saw the night of Elizabeth’s death was a shock induced terror dream, but as the nights went on and my focus on the dark building sharpened I could see inklings of the supernatural.
The faintest of lights would burn in the rooms if you would stare out into the night for long enough. Suggestions of barely visible silhouettes could be seen moving around behind the pulled curtains. The visions were one thing, but what truly terrified me, what made me purchase a baseball bat for our porch, were the sounds. Every couple of nights, if the air was still and I listened closely enough I could hear it.
A faint echo of a gunshot would cut through the calm night. Sometimes among the quiet ripples of sounds there were also whispered screams and the crackling of wood being split, but it was the echo gunshot that truly gripped my mind. I recognized the sound far too well.
For a couple of weeks I considered suggesting a move to Linda, or at least telling her about the details Elizabeth’s death, but as the weeks of observing the house turned into months I gave up on the idea.
The house across the street made me uncomfortable, there was definitely something wrong with it, but it seemed to keep its terror to itself. Instead of throwing away the investment we had made I simply consigned myself to keeping an eye on the house with a baseball bat and a cigarette. As long as my family would stay away from the house our mortgage and lives would presumably be safe.
For years I watched the house and nothing changed.
Then, one day, we got a knock on the door.
“Hello!” a friendly face with a backpack stood on my porch, “Me and my boyfriend are backpacking throughout the country and we were wondering whether we could camp out in your back yard. Promise we won’t leave a mess!”
A memory of Elizabeth telling us about how she traveled the country with a tent and some friends roared to life with the intensity of a portable pressure cooker. I was about to say yes and honor the memory of our dead neighbor, but then I saw the backpacker’s “boyfriend”.
“Is that… your boyfriend?” I asked. Linda peeked her head out of the door, saw the man limping down the street and shot me a concerned look.
The guy looked to be a hundred. A stringy mess of white hair covered a roughly shaven face that looked back at us with tired dark eyes. Even though it was jacket weather outside, the man stood on the street shirtless, revealing the strange tribal tattoos on his saggy skin.
“That’s him!” the backpacker said as we looked at the jagged skeleton man. “He might look old but he’s very full of life.”
“What’s the wood for?” Linda asked.
Behind him, the old man was dragging a pile of sloppily chopped wood on a sled.
“Oh that’s just some driftwood we carry around. My boyfriend is a shaman, sometimes he forces spirits out of places,” she said. “But don’t worry, we aren’t going to be making any fires on your front lawn, we’re just looking for a place to set up our tent for the night,” she quickly added with a nervous chuckle.
“Definitely not.” Linda said in a tone that could sharpen steel.
“Yeah,” I added.
The backpacker shrugged good-heartedly. “Ah well, do you guys know if any of the other neighbors would be willing to let us camp out?”
I knew of one neighbor who would have definitely let them set up a tent if she wasn’t dead.
“No. Goodbye.” Linda slammed the door. The years since Elizabeth’s passing had turned her bitter. Watching the shaman drag his sled of wood over to our neighbors made me think about how sometimes we get bitter for a reason. The guy looked like something out of a dungeon. We were way too old to be letting hundred-year-old hippies sleep on our front lawn.
The thoughts of those protruding ribs, those weird tattoos and empty eyes, they made the craving for nicotine announce itself with more force than usual that night. I was out on the porch smoking one cigarette after another, trying to get that strange face out of my mind. That’s when I heard him.
Out from the darkness came a groan. A human groan.
I tried to convince myself I was just hearing a particularly loud neighbor going through a medical emergency but another strained groan made the fact that there was someone across the street undeniable.
A match flared out of the darkness. The old man’s face glowed into existence. Even from the distance of my porch I could see his mad expression. He groaned again, and threw the match to the ground. A bright flash erupted. Elizabeth’s front lawn lit up with a bonfire. The shaman’s wood burnt bright.
I balanced the cigarette between my lips, one hand was trying to unlock my phone and the other was gripping the baseball bat. The man groaned again, louder, but this time the groan dragged, dipped and turned into a note. The shaman started throat singing and dancing in the light of the fire.
It wasn’t until his decrepit body started bouncing around with energy that I noticed that he was stark naked. For a moment I considered how cruel of a mistress gravity is, then I considered dialing the police, but before I could make my way to the phone app something else grabbed my attention. All the lights in Elizabeth’s house were on, a crowd of silhouettes stood behind the curtains.
The old man kept on dancing around the fire. With each moment his steps grew more frantic, with every bounce of his withered body his song grew louder. But soon it was drowned out.
The sound of groaning wood, the screams, the gunshots that I have heard so many nights before, they were back. But they were no longer memories of noise floating on the night wind, no, the sounds were deafening enough to overpower the shaman’s singing.
Yet he persevered. The throaty tone which the old man was producing kept on growing louder regardless of the resistance that it was getting, his eyes bulged with effort but the timber of his song remained calculated. His body started to match the motion of the flames, as they grasped at oxygen the man threw himself from side to side, crashing down into the lawn only to bounce back up for another jump.
I watched with fascination, trying to remind myself that I should call the police on the nude arsonist in my dead neighbor’s front yard, but then my attention was grappled away once more. The silhouettes behind the curtains, they started to bob their heads. The figures were starting to dance along with the shaman. As they danced the sharp sounds of gunshots and suffering eased until there were none at all. The old man’s song took control of the night.
The door of the murder house burst open and a procession of shadows made their way out towards the fire. Even as they danced closer to the light no discernable features presented themselves, the figures were simply dark outlines of human bodies. They surrounded the fire and danced along with the shaman, but they didn’t dance for long. After making a couple of rounds around the bonfire, they started to jump into the flames.
Each of the shadow folk’s arrival into the fire was followed by a burst of light and a high-pitched yelp that would punctuate the shaman’s throat song. They all jumped in one by one without hesitation, almost as if they had spent all of eternity waiting to set themselves on fire. Yet the final shadow hesitated. The silhouette on the other side of the road faced my direction. She waved.
I let go of the baseball bat and waved back.
When her figure hit the fire the neighborhood was enveloped in another powerful burst of light and the shaman’s shriek reached a pitch that dragged into the night like a stopping freight train. As the screech reached its final breath the nude shaman laid down by the fire, let out a tired groan and promptly fell into snore filled sleep.
I put away my phone. This man was not dangerous. I wasn’t going to call the cops. My moral decision to leave the shaman to his mysterious ways made my stomach warm for a little while, but my neighbors were considerably less accepting of nude eccentrics than I was. A police station worth of cruisers arrived, yelled at the old naked man, tazered him and chucked him off to the station.
The man was probably being charged for a series of crimes, but as I stood there in the cool fall wind, looking at the silhouettes of identical homes, I couldn’t help but wonder whether he didn’t do something good. The house across the street seemed to be at peace. It never glowed again.
A couple months later my son decided to hide my pack of cigarettes because they’re apparently bad for my health and he doesn’t want me to die. He hid them inside of his toy box, so they weren’t too hard to find, but I played along for a couple of weeks. I let him keep my pack of smokes next to his race cars as long as he didn’t mind me bumming one by the time his bed-time story was finished. It’s not like I smoked heavily – just a single cigarette to occupy me while I looked out at Elizabeth’s house.
After the insane man’s bonfire the ‘Murder House’ had just become a regular two-story on a block of two-stories. Even though the shaman’s life was probably filled with court cases and chaos, the result of his work was utter tranquility.
I started rationing the cigarettes when I got down to my last ten. Once I got to my last five, I made my smoking a bi-monthly activity. There’s a pack with a single cigarette left in my son’s toy box and I’m pretty sure it’ll stay there until I start getting worried about him smoking it. My lungs no longer make demands and the house across the street doesn’t require my attention anymore.
I just hope that whatever the shaman did is a permanent solution to the problem of the ‘Murder House’. I also hope that wherever Elizabeth is, she’s happy and surrounded by people who like having four in the morning eccentric conversations about spirits.
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2020.09.21 00:26 purplepoppies9 Letter to my twin
It's been kinda a rough weekend. Not as bad as some, but could've been better. I wonder what you're up to, my guides give me hints and that makes me smile. I hate this feeling of time running out. That's what makes me so anxious, not knowing when I'm gonna have to leave here.
Oakley is outside barking, playing with Wesley. I guess he's my nephew too now. I remember when you were that little. I have so many memories of you growing up. I'd always watch you. So sweet and eyes full of wonder. I miss you so much baby. I try not to think of our future cuz it hurts. I used to though, before things got so bad. Us working together, playing together, just you and me, happier'n shit. Used to think about us shopping for stuff for our house, our first holidays together. But I can't anymore. It hurts too much. I've had so much happy snatched away from me these last almost 6 yrs. Especially the last 2 yrs. God I was happy that summer. Now I just hold on. Trying to stay present without weed to balance out my ptsd and other mental shit. You know how it is, but I doubt you've gone almost 2 years without medicating. I don't even remember what it feels like to be normal anymore. My brain damage is pretty bad and I produce almost zero dopamine. It sucks.
Your parents are outside now too. Acting like I don't exist even tho I'm only 20 yards away. I've stopped hating Scott. It's a waste of energy. God will deal with him, he's an ugly human being. Hacking into my stuff too, not just yours. Spreading filth in my name, wreaking havoc with my old email account. He's got my nudes, I'm pretty sure. He's the one who hacked my old phone. Tried destroying my life. I found it in the OS, where my phone had been tampered with 3 times while I was in jail last year. Anything to destroy me, and you too. Anything to keep us apart. That whole phone is corrupted, they found it when I took it to Verizon last yr. I can't even access it anymore, my password stopped working. I'm guessing my mom took it over to him to install the same spyware that he has on your phones. Or his criminal ass accessed it thru wifi or bluetooth, especially cuz it was linked to your stuff that summer. I know he knows how.
Anyway... I love you baby. I'm still holding on to #oklahoma. I don't know if you ever told mom what your plans are. I'm hoping you did. I guess one day you'll be standing at my door, and I'll be waiting.
See you soon baby
submitted by purplepoppies9 to UnsentLetters [link] [comments]
2020.09.20 21:17 njletithappen My mom nude
2020.09.20 19:03 Mistresspreslie My mom nude
Interesting isn't it?🧐
Republicans are conservative, that's just a fact. And sex workers are just . . . Not. Lol! A conservative sex worker is one who conceals their face while posting naughty pictures online.
But why do so many sex workers lean towards President Trump versus Joe Biden?
I was a stripper for nine years, now running an onlyfans site & online webcamming. Throughout my whole career I have been a diehard Republican.
I am from New Jersey which is a very liberal state, but I do come from a Republican county. The area I live in has a lot of wealth and they don't want to see more of it go to taxes. So that has always stuck with me, Democrats will raise taxes. Even if they raised property taxes last year, they will raise them again this year
I started dancing in 2011 under the Obama administration. I was 18 years old when I started, and all of the "older" strippers had told me that before the recession they were killing it. Once the recession hit they had to fight to make money. At this time in 2011 things were slowly getting better. People were getting out of that recession mentality; "save every penny because you could lose your job tomorrow." But the industry had no way recovered to pre-2008 standards.
I had gotten really lucky. I was 18 years old "fresh meat" and I was going to make money just because I was the new girl. But I watched a lot of girls struggle to make $200 on a weekend night that should bring in $600+ easily.
I had two good summers, in 2012 and 2013. I was a new face, I was still a "teen," like I said, "fresh meat" sells better. 2014 was horrible! I was only 21 years old and it was an awful summer, no one was making money. The Jersey shore was dead, rentals were empty. Hurricane Sandy hit in November 2012, most businesses were back up and running in the summer of 2013. Some had yet to reopen in 2013, but by the summer of 2014 All of the businesses had re-opened, all of the rentals have been fixed and open for business. But only half were booked ON WEEKENDS. Weekdays were absolutely dead. Our club being 3 miles from the beach relied heavily on this summer traffic. During 2014 there waa no difference between summer and winter. Both were the same, disappointing. Many of my friends were struggling, needing to work 6 days a week just to get by.
2015 got a little bit better, but not much. And then a big change came in 2016.
2016 was an election year, and yes strippers talk politics. Now 23 years old and dancing for five years I was already a veteran. I was one of the highest earners at the club and people would often come to me for money making advice. I also love talking politics, history, and proving people wrong; so the dressing room hosted A LOT of political debates. "Welcome to debate club, strippers edition." 😂
A lot of the new, younger girls were very excited about Hillary Clinton running for President. They were hoping that she would win, that she would legalize marijuana, that she would "change" this country. But the girls who had been dancing for years, the girls who were making a lot of money. . . They were all for candidate Trump.
"Why would you vote for Trump?" Was a question I was frequently asked.
"Trump wants to make abortion illegal!" "Trump will never legalize marijuana!" Those were the biggest complaints about Trump.
As for abortion, I believe the woman has the right to choose. But I also know politics. I know that Trump is from New York and he's not super conservative, he is not from the Bible belt, he is never going to waste his time making abortions illegal in this country. He knows they are a necessary evil. But will he say he is against it? Absolutely, he needs to please those ultra conservative voters. Something A LOT OF PEOPLE don't understand.
As for marijuana, I think we need the extra revenue so that the Democrats could spend it. But would Hillary Clinton have been able to make it legal with a Republican controlled Senate. (And house at the time I believe). . I don't think so.
And like I stated the girls who were making a lot of money, who had invested in other businesses and were getting ready to retire, or who had owned real estate. . . They were all voting for Trump.
"The Trump girls," did not want to pay more money in taxes in a very high tax state. They wanted to be able to use their extra income to invest in other opportunities, to invest in their kids college education, or go to school themselves. Of course the younger Clinton voters weren't even claiming taxes, so they didn't care how much she raised our taxes. They wanted to collect more welfare because their income was totally off the books.
President Trump ended up winning the election, and very quickly Something Happened. The stock market started going up. As mentioned, we are from a republican wealthy county in New Jersey. A lot of these men work in New York on Wall Street, or are heavily invested in the market. Once the stock market went up, the club was popping! The winter of 2016-2017 was amazing. People felt more secure to spend money, Guys had no problem dropping $3,4,500 in the VIP room. We finally had a huge shower of singles on stage for the first time in forever. And this was only the winter.
Summer 2017 came and it was my best summer ever. It was my best summer even though by mid august I was barely working as I was suffering horrible morning sickness when I got pregnant with my first child. $1500 could be made in 2-3 hours on a weekend night. If you got really lucky it could be made as a tip in a 15 minute VIP room. 2017 was the summer of money!
My life took a turn however. After I had my son I really didn't work that much. I would go in one or two days a month. But it was still enough for me to be able to buy my very first apartment! If I had worked like that during the Obama years, I would have been struggling to pay rent. However I was paying a mortgage and saving money.
I basically call myself semi-retired now. And now I am entering my third trimester with my second baby. But from august 2017-january 2020 on a two day a month schedule, I was able to save enough money to put a down payment on a bigger home.
The taxes in this state are ridiculous, and we will never vote in a Republican governor to lower our taxes. But the last thing I need is higher federal taxes.
Instead of debating The legalization of marijuana, I am now having debates about college education for my kids. Why wouldn't I vote for Joe Biden who believes in free college education? I am going to have two children to put through college. And that answer is very simple. My kids are young. I have 15 1/2 more years to save for my older son and I started saving for him a week after he was born. Even if I only put away $2000 a year, he will have $36,000 once he turns 18; enough to pay for his first year. Invested in the S&P 500 that could easily be $70,000. What if I have a good year and I could invest another thousand dollars?
Joe Biden wants to give us free community college which is what? 5K a year? Even if he did make four year colleges free, would they be only state schools? Im sure private schools wouldn't be free. At rutgers the current tuition in-state is about $10,000/year. 4 years would be $40,000. With what I am saving right now, I would only be $4000 short of covering all four years of college. That is not calculating gains from the market.
But what if my taxes were raised another $2000 a year? That money would be going to the government instead of saving for my son. What if he increased taxes to 50%? Not only would I not be able to save money for my kids I wouldn't be able to save money for short term goals.
I recently became an only fans creator, taking advantage of my pregnancy and the fetish industry. Some of these woman are making $300,000+ a year. I have been much more successful in a month than I ever thought I would.
My reason for starting this work was to help my husband fund our home renovation. I thought I would be able to help with little things, but now I am going to be able to help with bigger things and save money for my kids college fund.
As I am learning more about the online sex worker industry, I see all of the expenses these girls have. They need to buy good cameras and film equipment. Constantly on their phones, you need good service and a lot of data. New content is a must for success, hence new outfits, backdrops, toys, props, and shoes for the foot fetish guys!
All of the money needs to be claimed INCLUDING tips. It's not like being a stripper where the majority of your money goes unclaimed, in fact it can't even be tracked because it's cash tipped to you behind a closed VIP room curtain. Every dime an Only Fans creator makes is carefully logged and must be claimed at the end of the year. And let's not forget Only Fans takes 20% of your earnings off the top, to run their website and because of the high fees credit card companies charge because it is considered a "high risk industry."
So creators lose 20% off the top. I would say they easily spend 10% of their income on work related expenses for making their content better. Some pay for promotions so that their pages grow faster. Others NEED assistants or hire other experts. We employ a lot of other people! But 30% is gone right away.
Then you have to pay taxes, depending on your state and your tax bracket it could be as little as 15% and as much as 40%! Let's say we need to pay 25% in taxes just like a lot of people. That's 55% of our money gone.
Let's say you're doing pretty well on only fans making $5000 a month, $60,000/year. $12,000 you'll never even see. $6000 goes towards all of the expenses and is tax deductible. And now you have to pay taxes on $42,000. $10,500 (25%) and $16,800(40%) doesn't seem like a big difference, but it is when you put in so much hard work. Imagine making $60,000 but only having $25,000 to show for it after taxes. It makes it not even worth it.
Even if you're working 12 hours a day/7 days a week and making $200,000/year on Only fans, having less than $100,000 in your pocket at the end of the day is complete BS!
Some might ask, why not switch sites? Live cam sites take 40% or more of your money! If you're a stay at home mom like me, you can't stream live on camera while your kid is home or awake.
So now that I got into the financials of online sex work, you can understand why so many sex workers support President Trump. Unlike a regular job, we have to pay a fee just to make money. We don't want our taxes raised on top of it!
Then there are the customers. We rely on customers to put their credit card into a Onlyfans, and spend anywhere from $3 to $20 a month on a creator's subscription profile.
Despite many people losing their jobs because of Covid, the site has been busier than ever. Instead of going out to clubs, movies, or taking girls on dates, guys have been going on dates with their favorite online sex worker. but not everybody is able to do that at the moment.
If you are struggling, if you can't pay your bills, you're not going to be spending money on online porn, let's be real. Covid and the impact it has had on jobs is not the Presidents' fault. I'm thinking back to that horrible summer of 2014 when Obama was in office. How slow would Only Fans be if this was 2014. With so many extra creators trying to make money because they also have lost jobs, there would be very few girls making big money, and the majority making nothing. Right now you have a lot of girls making a lot of money, a lot of girls making a decent living, and just a few making pennies.
I think President Trump has given customers confidence that the economy is going to turn around, that jobs are going to come back. He has also given them an amazing economy over the past few years that has allowed people to fill their savings accounts. We are not in the "save every penny mentality," that I saw in 2011 when things were recovering from a big recession.
That's Another reason many sex workers support Trump. He gives clients the confidence to spend their hard earned money.
There are many issues that sex workers do not agree with Republicans on. The biggest I could think of is abortion & the woman's right to choose. Prostitution is another big one, especially for me. I would love to see legal prostitution in New Jersey one day! I would be so proud if my son could own New Jersey's first legal brothel. The reasons why I support LEGAL prostitution is a totally different argument, but Republicans would never support that! Yet I still side with Republicans.
We side with Republicans because we want to have better lives not only for ourselves but for our children. And in this country you need money to have a better life. You need money to move from a tiny two bedroom apartment into a simple townhouse. You need money to invest in your children's future so they don't need to be sex workers. You need money to invest in another business so you don't need to sext all day long. And you need money if you want to clear your head and take a vacation or go to the spa for a day! And that money does better in the hands of individual citizens to choose what they want to do with it, versus in the hands of the government!
If you have the "guts" to be a sex worker you should be compensated. It is a huge industry that makes billions of dollars, and provides jobs for millions of people. (and I say GUTS because not everyone can have the confidence to go online and show their body to strangers. Not everyone could act. Not everyone could stand tall and tell the world, I send nude videos for a living.)
I could stand tall and say it! I am a sex worker! I work really hard for my money! I show my body on camera to random men, and I'm good at it! And I don't want Joe Biden to come in and raise taxes under the farce of "free college." I don't need Joe Biden to make everyday working men lose confidence in our economy. And I certainly don't need to spend priceless time to decipher what the hell Joe Biden is trying to say to me (sorry I had to add that! 😂) And if the day ever comes that I decide I don't want to do this work anymore, I know President Trump has made the economy great and could make it even better, allowing me to find another well-paying job to support my family.
Written by me: -Mistress Preslie 🖤💋
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2020.09.20 16:40 stevecakedude Mom nude my
A couple months ago I had a situation with another boy in my class. Long story short nudes n all that stuff were involved, we dated for a little bit. My mom naturally flipped out and took my phone away for a month. I still have restrictions but I obviously am using it now. But during the process that I had my phone taken away, she slut shamed me, said I had demons, removed the lock from my door, kept on giving me the same lectures on how I need to be a Christian and not a slut. The thing is I never even had sex with my boyfriend. She continues to believe I am a reckless child. And on top of that she doesn’t want me masterbating, so I can’t have sex and I also can’t masterbate. Which blows my mind because I am a horny 15 year old and I have my needs. I don’t think she understands that. She gives me a bunch of lectures about how I should live my life. She always compares my life to hers. With the constant, “when I was your age I was getting hit by my parents and I don’t even hit you. I don’t know where I went wrong.” I’ve fallen into a depression in which I don’t think anything good will ever happen in my life. In which nothing matters and I feel like it’d be better if I was dead. Then she wouldnt have so much stress. It hurts me but I can’t tell her any of how I’m feeling because she’ll bring it up in an argument and I absolutely hate that. Anyways I hate my mom right now but she thinks I should still love her because she’s my mom. She thinks only she was affected by this situation. I had to break up with him with her next to me, she forced me to get an exorcism for my “demons”, I lost my social life, she slut shames me and above all of that I have to live up to her expectations. I am really hurt and I pretend that it doesn’t affect me because I don’t want to have a conversation with her. What do I do? I hate myself and everyone around me.
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