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2020.09.18 08:07 autobuzzfeedbot Spy bath video

  1. The Treasury Dept. has reportedly reached a deal for Oracle, Walmart, and other US investors to take a majority stake in TikTok. The deal will have to be approved by Donald Trump, as well as the Chinese government, before it's finalized.
  2. Facebook employees with video camera glasses are prowling the streets to do research on privacy. The research is intended to inform best practices for the future, including getting ahead of potential privacy concerns, Facebook said. In practice, the project will capture a lot of photos of public spaces.
  3. Podcaster Joe Rogan falsely claimed that 'left-wing' activists set forest fires in Oregon. According to Vice, there are currently internal discussions over Spotify's decision to host his podcast.
  4. Twitter is ramping up account security measures for high-profile US politicians and media to prevent hacking ahead of 2020 elections. Twitter has made several election-related policy changes in recent weeks as it seeks to bolster the platform's security after hackers hijacked dozens of high-profile accounts in July.
  5. 2 US senators demanded Amazon stop spying on its workers via social media after news surfaced that the tech giant was monitoring drivers' plans to protest or strike. Amazon has a track record of being staunchly opposed to its workers organizing, even listing a job opening for an analyst to come on board to monitor employees' efforts to unionize.
  6. TikTok reportedly approached Instagram cofounder Kevin Systrom about becoming the app's CEO. TikTok's last CEO, Kevin Mayer, resigned in late August after just three months on the job.
  7. Google is reportedly cracking down on employee message boards after seeing a rise in posts flagged for racism or abuse. The company will now require more active moderation from the owners of internal discussion groups and mandate that they participate in moderation training.
  8. Bed Bath & Beyond just made a five-year commitment to Google Cloud as the pandemic pushes it towards a pivot to e-commerce.The firm has been pivoting to focus more on e-commerce during the coronavirus pandemic.
  9. Amazon reportedly had dozens of listings for doping drugs, but told reporters they were allowed for 'research' despite being shown evidence of human use. According to the investigation, sellers were able to bypass Amazon's ban and list the non-FDA approved drugs, which are commonly used for doping.
  10. Bessemer Venture Partners released memos showing why they invested in small companies that later made it big like LinkedIn, Twitch, and Shopify. The memos contain the stark analyses a partner made of startup's strengths and weaknesses at the time and why they thought these companies could succeed.
Link to article
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2020.08.26 19:14 rekreative Per request, my "Sex Menu"

Hi! I've had a few requests to posts this again (I clean up my post history sporadically in attempt to maintain my anonymity, sorry). I'm a HLF with a quasi-LLM. Our sexual complexities stem primarily from ED and sexual anxiety, which we've been trying to work on together. I've been working on this "menu" idea for ages, because sometimes it's easy to get stuck in these "sex = intercourse", orgasm oriented boxes, not really considering the enormous plethora of sexual, sensual, and intimate activities there are to explore outside of the intercourse box.
I'd looked at Mojoupgrade (and the like), but I didn't feel it really fit our situation, and I wanted to have something to refer back to as we grow together - which is also why I didn't want to include a "yes/no/maybe" or ranking system to each activity. I recognize that, especially when dealing with anxiety, that desire, mood, receptiveness, and interest will all vary moment to moment, so I wanted to take that into account and give us room to grow and expand.
And yes, it's a huge list and potentially a bit overwhelming! I'm choosing to print a category each on index cards, and once a month or so (entirely his call to set the pace) he or we will pick one out to discuss and contemplate until the next time. I'm being very careful to emphasize that it's not a "to do" list: none of it requires any action from him other than to discuss the ideas together and consider and reflect on them. It's again entirely his call what we try and when we try it (if at all).
This is designed pretty specific to my personal situation - it's definitely not for everyone! I also decided to omit the "homework" section for now because I don't want to set things off on the wrong tone, but I'm including it here anyway.
Note: While a good chunk of this is "mine", I've also accumulated content from various sources including posts and comments from the DB related subs... apologies for any blatant plagiarism.
Homework nitty gritty/nuts & bolts hard work
Schedule Sex/Date Night Discussion/Check In Individual/Couples Therapy (personal, relationship, sex) Seek Medical Assessment/Treatment Sensate Focus Exercises Exposure Therapy/Systematic Desensitization Sex Education (developing sexual intelligence through reading books, articles, podcasts, etc - bonus points for discussing together) Reduce or eliminate contributory destructive habits/behavors (eg. porn, masturbation, compulsive fantasies/fixations) Barrier ("Brakes") Assessment
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"Snacks" brief interactions to promote sexual intimacy & tension, without immediate intention or expectation to escalate
Unexpected Touches Lingering/Suggestive Touches (simple caresses, hugs and soft kisses, holding hands more often, embracing and touching each other) 10 Second Kiss Kisses on the Neck Flirting & Compliments Cuddling Massages Bathe/Shower Together Love Notes (affectionate, flirtatious, suggestive, overtly sexual) Break Routine (non-sexual date night, screens off time, change of scenery, etc.)
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Appeteasers (get it?) solo & shared practices/precursors to the main dish
Positive associations visualization (recall and reflect on enjoyable past experiences with partner, scenarios/fantasies) spend a few mins/day replaying you & your partner's sex "highlight reel" in your mind
Sex Ed (developing sexual intelligence through reading books, articles, podcasts, etc. - bonus points for discussing together!)
Create sexual tension outside of bedroom (try to express feelings & desires, be loving and sensual, as often as possible. (see: Snacks))
Reflection (identify what aspects/contexts help make sex positive)
Creating Space (build specific triggers to create a mental gap between sex and other physical activities - it can be an outfit, accessory, smell, anything - as long as it's associated only with positive sexual experiences between you two - attempt to "set mood")
Sexual Response Cycle (clearing head of stuff on mind - wind down & relax)
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Side Dishes a little extra treat on the side
Adornment (make up, hairstyle, nail polish, jewelry, perfume lingerie, corsets, stockings/socks, shoes/boots fabric type (lace, fishnet, pvc/vinyl, latex, etc.) costumes and uniforms, accessories and props)
Sexcessories (vibrators, plugs, cock rings, lube, massage oil, massage candles, restraints, furniture (see: Toy Inventory & Wishlist))
Ambiance (lighting/candles, scent, music/sound, temperature/fan, sex nest (pillows, blankets, etc))
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Toy Inventory (Sexessories) (omitted - list your own!)
Wishlist (blank lines for listing)
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Dessert aftercare or afterplay
Attending to the partner’s physical needs (eg. offering a blanket, a drink, or a snack) Cleaning up (eg. bringing washcloth, drawing a bath, or showering together) Giving non-sexual touch (eg. cuddling, holding) "Round 2 (or 3)" (sexual touch or cuddle while masturbating) Allowing the person to talk about their experience of sex or express emotions (eg. crying) Giving the person time alone or space to decompress Verbal reassurance that the person is loved and safe Watching TV together Lie together quietly and without talking Restore their energy by going to sleep
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Prep Work what needs to happen before sexy time can be enjoyed?
Time together Time apart There’s some stuff we should talk about first (incl. clearing mind of general thoughts) Clean house some Scene/mood setting I need a shower / My partner needs a shower Non-sexual touch Nap Stars in alignment
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Intimacy Building - solo practices
Masturbilia Erotica "quickies"/excerpts (written by/for partner) - recalled, hypothetical/fantasy Erotica stories (short or full length) (written by/for partner) - recalled, hypothetical/fantasy Photos/Video (foby partner, together) Audio recordings foby partner (eg. JOI, erotic meditation, erotica, recorded encounters)
Practices Positive associations - visualization (recall enjoyable past experiences. scenarios/fantasies) Sexual Gratitude List (eg. personal "highlight reel", turn-ons re: partner, etc) Audio/Aural Seduction Yoga flow for male sexual health: Baddhakonasana (Bound Angle) Janu Sirsasana (Head-to-Knee Forward Bend) Paschimottanasana (Seated Forward Bend) Kumbhakasana (Plank) Uttanapadasana (Standing Forward Bend) Naukasana (Boat) Dhanurasana (Bow) Ardhaustrasana (½ Camel) Ardhachandrasana (½ Moon) Kegel/PC/Pelvic Floor Exercises
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Intimacy Building - shared practices
Holding each other while clothed Naked cuddling Kissing Caressing the hair, back, arms, and legs Non-sexual massage Sexual massage Flirting Sex ed (reading books, articles, podcasts, etc. together) Intimate discussion
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Non-Physical Contact Intimacy when not feeling touchy
Verbal foreplay/teasing Dirty talking Clean talking (lovey, affirmations) Nudity w/out contact (incl. Exhibitionism-ish, CFNM, suggested/mindfuck) Writing/Reading erotica together; reading out loud Letting my partner watch me masturbate Watching my partner masturbate Listening to my partner masturbate (in bed together, in different rooms) Taking photos/video
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Indirect/Transitional Contact - when feeling only mildly touchy
Nudity w/ non-sexual contact (cuddling, kissing) Nudity w/ sexual contact (making out, heavy petting, manual stimulation) Sensate Focus exercises Dressing up (fetish clothing, CFNM) Passive Masturbation (cuddling/caressing/kissing with toy in place) Mutual/Simultaneous Masturbation Hide n Peek (voyeurish): partner outside room "spying"/listening Partnered/Interactive Masturbation • Indirect (minimal/no physical contact, "supporting" partner providing visual stimulation but not looking/facing away/"areas" covered) • Direct contact/no lookie (contact, "supporting" partner as described above) • Direct contact (no visual restriction)
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Contact Intimacy sensual non-orgasmic
Nudity w/ non-sexual contact (cuddling, kissing) Nudity w/ sexual contact (making out, heavy petting) Sensate Focus exercises Slowly undressing each other Kissing the shoulders, neck, chest Massaging the buttocks; Sensual massage (non-orgasmic) Reading or listening to erotica together Using lotion, oil Light bondage, implied/mental bondage Body paint/body writing
Sensation Play: Manual touch (vary techniques, pressure, speed, etc.) Temperature (warm oil, candle wax, ice) Texture (different materials & implements) Sensory deprivation (eg. blindfold) Games (A vs. B, mindfuck [pick A use B, etc], guess item) Scratching or biting (light/hard) Spanking (light, hard) Impact play w/ implement
Sensation Play w/ Audio (relaxation/focus, erotic)
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Contact Intimacy sexual orgasmic
Physical teasing, fonding, or groping Passive contact (nude body-to-body while cuddling/caressing/kissing) Grinding (clothed, nude) Manual stimulation (Handjobs/Fingering) Testicular massage Hair job/sensation play Oral, Queening/Facesitting Outercourse (Non-Penetrative) Intercourse (PIV) Anal Sex
Outercourse (Exclusively Non-Penetrative): -Axillary intercourse ("bagpiping", pit-wank, pit-fucking) Sexual variant where the penis is inserted in the other person's armpit. -Footjob Sexually stimulating one individual's penis with another individual's feet. Positions: "classic", reversed/doggy, modified/perpendicular missionary, face down/feet up, crouching reverse cowgirl, lying inverted on back, T/perpendicular (mutual stimulation) -Intercrural/femoral/interfemoral sex ("pussyjob", acliteration, slitsurfing, thighjob) A type of intercourse generally regarded as non-penetrative sex, in which a male partner places his penis between the partner's thighs or vulva and thrusts to create friction and achieve orgasm. Positions: Missionary, Spooning, Facing Spoons, Cowgirl, Reverse Cowgirl, Crouching Inverted Cowgirl) -Intergluteal sex ("hotdogging") Stimulation of the penis using the buttocks, differs from anal sex because no penetration occurs -Mammary intercourse (tit-fucking, tit-job) -Stimulation of the penis by placing the penis between the breasts
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2020.08.05 16:22 leviOsa_ Spy video bath

Chapter 11.
AN: i sed stup flaming up prepz! c if dis chaptr is srupid!1111 it delz wit rly sris issus! sp c 4 urself if itz ztupid brw fangz 2 ma frend raven 4 hleping me!
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“NO!” I screamed. I was horrorfied! B’loody Mary tried to comfort me but I told her fuck off and I ran to my room crying myself. Dumbledore chased after me shouting but he had to stop when I went into my room cause he would look like a perv that way.
Anyway, I started crying tears of blood and then I slit both of my wrists. They got all over my clothes so I took them off and jumped into the bath angrily while I put on a Linkin Park song at full volume. I grabbed a steak and almost stuck it into my heart to commit suicide. I was so fucking depressed! I got out of the bathtub and put on a black low-cut dress with lace all over it sandly. I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Then I looked out the window and screamed… Snap was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Loopin was masticating to it! They were sitting on their broomsticks.
“EW, YOU FUCKING PERVS, STOP LOOKING AT ME NAKED! ARE YOU PEDOS OR WHAT!” I screamed putting on a black towel with a picture of Marilyn Mason on it. Suddenly Vampire ran in.
“Abra Kedavra!” he yelled at Snape and Loopin pointing his womb. I took my gun and shot Snape and Loopin a gazillion times and they both started screaming and the camera broke. Suddenly, Dumblydore ran in. “Ebony, it has been revealed that someone has - NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted looking at Snape and Loopin and then he waved his wand and suddenly…
Hargrid ran outside on his broom and said everyone we need to talk.
“What do you know, Hargrid? You’re just a little Hogwarts student!”
“I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT….” Hargirid paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!”
“This cannot be.” Snap said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Dumblydore’s wand had shot him. “There must be other factors.”
“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY!” I yelled in madly.
Loopin held up the camera triumelephantly. “The lens may be ruined but the tape is still there!”
I felt faint, more than I normally do like how it feels when you do not drink enough blood.
“Why are you doing this?” Loopin said angrily while he rubbed his dirty hands on his clook.
And then I heard the words that I had heard before but not from him. I did not know whether to feel shocked and happy or to bite him and drink his blood because I felt faint.
“BECAUSE…BECAUSE….” Hargid said and he paused in the air dramitaclly, waving his wand in the air. Then swooped he in singing to the tune of a gothic version of a song by 50 Cent.
“Because you’re goffic?” Snap asked in a little afraid voice cause he was afraind it meant he was connected with Satan.
“Because I LOVE HER!”
Chapter 12.
AN: stop f,aing ok hargrid is a pedo 2 a lot of ppl in amerikan skoolz r lik dat I wunted 2 adres da ishu! how du u no snap iant kristian plus hargrid isn’t really in luv wif ebony dat was sedric ok!
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I was about to slit my wrists again with the silver knife that Drago had given me in case anything happened to him. He had told me to use it valiantly against an enemy but I knew that we must both go together.
“NO!” I THOUGHT IT WAS HAIRgrid but it was Vampire. He started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.
I stopped. “How did u know?”
“I saw it! And my scar turned back into the lightning bolt!”
“NO!” I ran up closer. “I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.
“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and it turned back into the lightning bolt! Save me! then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”
Anyway I was in the school nurse’s office now recovering from my slit wrists. Snap and Loopin and HAHRID were there too. They were going to St. Mango’s after they recovered cause they were pedofiles and you can’t have those fucking pervs teaching in a school with lots of hot gurlz. Dumbledore had constipated the cideo camera they took of me naked. I put up my middle finger at them.
Anyway Hargrid came into my hospital bed holding a bouquet of pink roses.
“Enoby I need to tell u somethnig.” he said in a v. serious voice, giving me the roses.
“Fuck off.” I told him. “You know I fucking hate the color pink anyway, and I don’t like fucked up preps like you.” I snapped. Hargrid had been mean to me before for being gottik.
“No Enoby.” Hargrid says. “Those are not roses.”
“What, are they goffs too you poser prep?” I asked cause I was angry that he had brought me pink roses.
“I saved your life!” He yelled angrily. “No you didn’t I replied.” “You saved me from getting a Paris Hilton p- video made from your shower scene and being vued by Snap and Loopin.” Who MASTABATED (c is dat speld rong) to it he added silently.
“Whatever!” I yelled angirly.
He pointed his wand at the pink roses. “These aren’t roses.” He suddenly looked at them with an evil look in his eye and muttered Well If you wanted Honesty that’s all you haD TO SAY! .
“That’s not a spell that’s an MCR song.” I corrected him wisely.
“I know, I was just warming up my vocal cordes.” Then he screamed. “Petulus merengo mi kremicli romacio(4 all u cool goffic mcr fans out, there, that is a tribute! specially for raven I love you girl!)imo noto okayo!”
And then the roses turned into a huge black flame floating in the middle of the air. And it was black. Now I knew he wasn’t a prep.
“OK I believe you now wtf is Drako?”
Hairgrid rolled his eyes. I looked into the balls of flame but I could c nothing.
“U c, Enobby,” Dumblydore said, watching the two of us watching the flame. “2 c wht iz n da flmes(HAHA U REVIEWRS FLAMES GEDDIT) u mst find urslf 1st, k?”
“I HAVE FOUND MYSELF OK YOU MEAN OLD MAN!” Hargrid yelled. dUMBLydore lookd shockd. I guess he didn’t have a headache or else he would have said something back.
Hairgrid stormed off back into his bed. “U r a liar, prof dumbledoree!”
Anyway when I got better I went upstairs and put on a black leather minidress that was all ripped on the ends with lace on it. There was some corset stuff on the front. Then I put on black fishnets and black high-heeled boots with pictures of Billie Joe Armstrong on them. I put my hair all out around me so I looked like Samara from the Ring (if u don’t know who she iz ur a prep so fuk off!) and I put on blood-red lipstick, black eyeliner and black lip gloss.
“You look kawai, girl.” B’loody Mary said sadly. “Fangs (geddit) you do too.” I said sadly too, but I was still upset. I slit both of my wrists feeling totally depressed and I sucked all the blood. I cried again in my bathroom and put the shades on so Snap and Loopin couldn’t spy on me this time. I went to some classes. Vampire was in the Hair of Magical Magic Creatures. He looked all depressed because Draco had disappeared and he had used to be in love with Draco. He was sucking some blood from a Hufflepuff.
“Hi.” he said in a depressed way. “Hi back.” I said in an wqually said way.
We both looked at each other for some time. Harry had beautiful red gothic eyes so much like Dracos. Then……… we jumped on each other and started screwing each other.
“STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS!” shouted Professor McGoggle who was watching us and so was everyone else.
“Vampire you fucker!” I said slapping him. “Stop trying to screw me. You know I loved Draco!” I shouted and then I ran away angrily.
Just then he started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.
“NO!” I ran up closer.
“I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.
“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”
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SPECIAL FANGZ 2 RAVEN MY GOFFIX BLOOD SISTA WTF UR SUPPOZD 2 RIT DIS!11111111
HEY RAVEN DO U KNOW WHERE MY SWEATER I
Chapter 13.
AN: raven fangz 4 gelpin me agen im sory ah tok ur postr of gerard but dat guy is such a fokin sexbom! PREPZ STOP FLAMIGNG!
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Vampire and I ran up the stairs looking for Dumbledore. We were so scared.
“Dumbledore Dumblydore!” we both yelled. Dumbledore came there.
“What is it that you want now you despicable snobs?” he asked angrily.
“Volsemort has Draco!” we shouted at the same time.
He laughed in an evil voice.
“No! Don’t! We need to save Draco!” we begged.
“No.” he said meanly. “I don’t give a darn what Voldemort does to Draco. Not after how much he misbehaved in school especially with YOU Ebony.” he said while he frowned looking at me. “Besides I never liked him that much anyway.” then he walked away. Vampire started crying. “My Draco!” he moaned. (AN: don’t u fik gay guyz r lik so hot!)
“Its okay!” I tried to tell him but that didn’t stop him. He started to cry tears of blood. Then he had a brainstorm. “I had an idea!” he exclaimed.
“What?” I asked him.
“You’ll see.” he said. He took out his wand and did a spell. Then…… suddenly we were in Voldemprt’s lair!
We ran in with our wands out just as we heard a croon voice say. “Allah Kedavra!” It was……………………………….. Voldemort!
Chapter 14.
AN: fuk off PREPZ ok! Raven fangz 4 helpin agen. im sory ah kudnt update but I wuz derperessd n I had 2 go 2 da hospital kuz I slit muh rists. PS im nut updating til u giv me 10 god revoiws!
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WARNING: SUM OF DIS CHAPTA IS XTREMLY SCRAY. VIOWER EXCRETION ADVISD.
We ran to where Volcemort was. It turned out that Voldemort wasn’t there. Instead the fat guy who killed Cedric was. Draco was there crying tears of blood. Snaketail was torturing him. Vampire and I ran in front of Snaketail.
“Rid my sight you despicable preps!” he shouted as we started shooting him with the gun he Then suddenly he looked at me and he fell down with a lovey-dovey look in his eyes. “EbonyIloveyouwiluhavesexwithme.” he said. (in dis he is sixteen yrs old so hes not a pedofile ok)
“Huh?” I asked. ”Enoby I love you will you have sex with me?” asked Snaketail. I started laughing crudely. “What the fuck? You torture my bf and then you expect me to fuck you? God, you are so fucked up you fucking bastard.” I said angrily. Then I stabbed him in the heart. Blood pored out of it like a fountain.
“Nooooooooooooo!” he screamed. He started screaming and running around. Then he fell down and died. I brust into tears sadly.
“Snaketail what art thou doing?” called Voldemort. Then…… he started coming! We could hear his high heels clacking to us. So we got on our broomsticks and we flew to Hogwarts. We went to my room. Vampire went away. There I started crying.
“What’s wrong honey?” asked Draco taking off his clothes so we could screw. He had a sex-pack (geddit cuz hes so sexah) and a really huge you-know-what and everything.
“Its so unfair!” I yielded. “Why can’t I just be ugly or plain like all da other girls and preps here except for B’loody Mary, because she’s not ugly or anything.”
“Why would you wanna be ugly? I don’t like the preps anyway. They are such fucking sluts.” answered Draco.
“Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he’s in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn’t Satan have made me less beautiful?” I shouted angrily. (an” don’t wory enoby isn’t a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) “Im good at too many things! WHY CAN’T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT’S A FUCKING CURSE!” I shouted and then I ran away.
Chapter 15.
AN: stup flaming ok! btw u suk frum no on evry tim sum1 flams me im gona slit muh ristsz! fangz 2 raven 4 hlpein!
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“Ebony Ebony!” shouted Draco sadly. “No, please, come back!”
But I was too mad.
“Whatever! Now u can go anh have sex with Vampire!” I shouted. I stormed into my room and closed my black door with my blood-red key. It had a picture of Marylin Manson on it. He looked so sexy in a way that reminded me of Draco and Vampire. I started to cry and weep. I took a razor and started to slit my wrists. I drank the blood all depressed. Then I looked at my black GC watch and noticed it was time to go to Biology class.
I put on a short ripped black gothic dress that said Anarchy on the front in blood red letters and was all ripped and a spiky belt. Under that I put on ripped black fishnets and boots that said Joel all over them with blood red letters. I put my ebony black hair out. Anyway I went downstairs feeling all sad and depressed as usual. I did sum advanced Biology work. I was turning a bloody pentagram into a black guitar. Suddenly the guitar turned to Draco!
“Enoby I love you!” he shouted sadly. “I dnot care what those fucker preps and posers fink. Ur da most beautiful girl in the world. Before I met you I used to want to commit suicide all the time. Now I just wanna fucking be with you. I fucking love you!.” Then……………. he started to sing “Da Chronicles of Life and Death” (we considered it our song now cuz we fell in love when Joel was singing it) right in front of the entire class! His singing voice was so amazing and gothic and sexxy like a cross between Gerard, Joel, Chester, Pierre and Marilyn Manson (AN: don’t u fink dos guyz r so hot. if u dnot no who dey r get da fuk out od hr!) .
“OMFG.” I said after he was finished. Some fucking preps stared at us but I just stuck up my middle fingers (that were covered in black nail polish and were entwined with Draco’s now) at them. “I love you!” I said and then we started to kiss just like Hilary Duff (i fukin h8 dat bitch) and CMM in a Cinderella Story. Then we went away holding hands. Loopin shouted at us but he stopped cuz everyone was clapping by how sexy we looked 2gether. Then I saw a poster saying that MCR would have a concert in Hogsmede right then. We looked at each other all shocked and then we went 2gether.
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2020.07.27 12:02 Evidence-Stock Want to fuck? #spy cam mast #tamil village aunty bathing videos #exploited teens asia stream #bollywood ladki ki chudai #plaridel scandal

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2020.07.24 16:38 wolf24Jul Fu-rry New Years Po-rn

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2020.07.21 06:54 Agona21Julder Spy bath video

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2020.07.14 00:21 fractalfay Spy bath video

The struggle to select a single quote that captures the essence of an episode has never felt more real. From Debbie finally celebrating her inner Lady MacBeth, to Low finding a more eloquent way to say “I hate Othello,” this episode is 90DF Shakespeare. Hey nonny nonny.
In a moment of zero suspense, Larissa walks into the immigration office, and then walks right back out. That’s right, friends: those shots of her in the rest of the season aren’t holograms. She tells her friend that they took something like a mug shot, and “then she took the finger.” That Clue game always gets so weird after this turn.
Later on Larissa meets up with Eric, to ask if they can have a fake reunion to match their fake breakup from their fake relationship, and Eric asks if he can use that “ash in the wind” line he was saving for the next time he wrote a country song. Larissa says fine.
During their conversation we learn that Larissa broke up with Eric via text. Then people started harassing her online, calling “my butt cheesy butt,” and Larissa decided this must be Eric and filed a police report on him. That must have been amazing paperwork.
“Ma’am, just following up on a report you submitted. You’re on…instagram, is that right? Now the instagram, is that the internet? Okay, okay, just making sure. So, do you feel unsafe on the internets after this ‘cheesy butt’ threat that you received? And you have reason to believe that Eric is responsible for this ass slander? Does he have special knowledge of your butt cheese, ma’am?”
She and Eric still have issues, and they’re not afraid to exaggerate them for the next six or so episodes, while mining for something more interesting than “cheap” to butt heads about. That should carry them to the point in the narrative where Jess contacts Larissa to tell her that she was right.
Speaking of Debbie, she’s never left the country before, because the weight limit for checked baggage prevents her from taking Colt and her slot machine. Still, she’s eager to see what their Walmart is like, because there’s nothing more exciting than seeing the same thing you have at home, but elsewhere.
“That’s interesting,” Paul interjects. “Have you heard of this place called a ‘grocery store’? Karine says they have them in Brazil, but I didn’t pay attention to the food because it wasn’t in English.”
“Well I don’t understand why it’s not in English,” Mother Debbie is worried. “How do they expect people to go there? Do they even have maps? What about numbers? Do they use those funny symbols you see in caves? What time is Wheel of Fortune on there?”
Paul: Do you have an opening for a son, by any chance? I promise I’ll never leave. Ever.
Mother Debbie: Well I’m going to have to ask Colt. Until I do you can have this spare change I cut out of his pants, and caught in my mouth while clinging to his ankles. That’s why he wears shorts now. I don’t think that’s fair to me.
Debbie is concerned that Jess is another Larissa, and fears Colt will make the same decisions all over again. “If I tell you I have a bad feeling, will you listen to me?” She pleads with Colt.
“I don’t know,” Colt waffles. “You usually have a bad feeling about the women I’m dating by the third date.”
“The second date. Then I press my face into the glass of their bedroom windows until it leaves a grease print, and I come back again and again, until I am the bad feeling, imprinted FOREVER. You should probably never date anyone again.”
Colt just continues to pile the clothes Debbie folded into his Mary Poppins suitcase, while her anxiety forms a cloud around him.
“People at home are saying for God’s sake lady, let him live his life,” Debbie tells the producers. Yes, we are saying this. “Well, no.” This woman knows herself!
After a lengthy flight that I’m sure was peppered with stunning observations like, “well these peanuts are little” and “the sun sure is hot!” Colt is starting to worry that his mom tagging along wasn’t the best idea. She notes the Panda Express at the airport, and is relieved to see you can be disappointed anywhere in the world.
Jess is a bit uneasy as she awaits the arrival of Colt and his mother, because she’s thinking about Larissa’s warnings. She says she’s going to keep that conversation from Colt, because they agreed not to talk about it until the reunion.
They deplane, and Jess happily embraces Colt. Debbie is exactly as warm and welcoming as you’d expect, as she describes Jess as “voluptuous” which makes her think of sex, so the jealousy fertilizes her egg of rage. After both Colt and Jess assure viewers and Debbie that they eagerly anticipate sex that is sexy, and also sex with sexual sexiness, they get into an Uber for the hotel, and start tossing out hypothetical baby names. Debbie doesn’t understand why Colt never considered her ability to mother again. Hell she toted colt for 18 months, give or take, and breast fed him till 25. Now she’s getting left out? Unfair.
“I still change his diapers and fold his underwear in the cutest little squares,” Debbie spurts. “Then I warm them in my mouth and rewrite his name on the waistband with a sharpie when my drool fades the original name away. Sometime I blow them dry after he puts them back on. What are we talking about?”
Jess is all of us: “I think it’s weird that Debbie is here. It’s my vacation, and it’s better me and Colt alone.”
“Yes, those are alarme bells,” Larissa coaches. “They go a ding a ding a ding. Debbie is under bed right now-e. Also, do not eat the beef stew.”
Jess and Colt share a series of gerbil kisses right in front of first wife Debbie, and she has not consented to the triad. It burns her face, and she tries to wipe it away, but nope: it’s still her face. She thinks Jess is trying to talk him into being an adult, when he’s perfectly fine as a permanent 14 year old boy.
“I’m really sick,” Debbie declares. “And not manipulative at all.”
Hoping for an orgy, Colt only reserved one hotel room, and Debbie DGAF, she just needs to sleep. Jess starts pressing her about how she slept in Vegas or something, and this reminds me of a dog cornering a skunk, then barking at it. Debbie says you either let her sleep for ten minutes or take her to a hospital in 30 minutes, GODDAMMIT. I’M REALLY SICK. Then Jess says Debbie is rude, and while this is true, dude, you were barking at a skunk.
Tania is taking her scrutiny of Syngin on the road to a nice looking nail salon, thanks to friend Monique. Let’s all take a moment to reminisce about way back in the day, when we would dunk out feet in water and trust a stranger’s hands to soften our heels with a cheese grater before wrapping them in plastic bags full of wax. Good times. Anyway, Monique is acutely aware of what a giant pain in the ass Tania is, and points out that not only did they just get married, but now he has to wait on Tania hand and foot, so the “for worst” part of their wedding vows arrived a little early.
“He doesn’t wait on me hand and foot,” Tania corrects. “He just carries me around the apartment on his back, between bathing me and making me breakfast, and looking for a job. Yes, I have a crutch, what?”
Since expressing gratitude for his service can’t happen, Tania fixates on what she now describes as a drinking problem, while continuing to drink herself. She says he can work now and has been hunting for a job, but pickings are slim for a bartender who can’t pour a Guinness. The manicurist looks up periodically to make sure she’s actually on television.
Syngin has been waiting for his next chance to play the “you’re not my soul mate” card, and that moment is now. He’s beginning to piece together that he’s going to spend the next six months waiting for her foot to heal, then the six months after that watching her fill out disability forms for the instant arthritis that activated the minute she put a boot on. Then they’ll need another six months to save up money, then oh look, she’s pregnant, so maybe another 18 years in CT, with Syngin carrying Tania and all the babies from room to room like a possum. Plus, he didn’t get married to get married, he got married because the K1 left him without options.
Tania says she’s ready to make a one-to-three year plan, which sounds like something she does before blowing it off for a trip to Costa Rica, at which point it becomes a to-do list for the left behind. But Syngin? Now that he’s married, Syngin doesn’t know if he’s ready to be a husband, or to be burdened by children, and yes, men on this show never understand a biological clock, and Tania should start talking to her male friends about sperm donation now.
“I don’t know if I want to stay in a country that leaves you with a mountain of debt from a routine surgery,” Syngin doesn’t say at all. “I mean, my liver is going to fail sometime in the next ten years, and I’d like to be prepared.”
Tania is concerned that this is the first time she’s hearing that he’s uninterested in remaining in America. Syngin insists he doesn’t want to raise children here or send them to school here, and Tania makes her case with, “BUT I TURNED OUT FINE.” You know it’s true when someone shouts it.
Toddler Aseulu somehow impregnated Kalani twice before his balls dropped. Last night he shoved all his Batman comics and Lunchables into his Hot Wheels suitcase, and dragged it all the way to the bus where he asked for a one-way ticket to outer space, like the man of the house. Kalani reports that after he stormed away he sent her a series of riddles and a treasure map to help her pinpoint his location and be away from her children and family as long as possible. Kalani said tell me where the fuck you are, my dude, because it’s your son’s birthday, and Oliver shouldn’t wonder where his dad is when they all live in the same house. Asuelu agrees to return, but just to play video games and sulk, MOM.
Kolini and Low arrive for the party, and they ask where Asuelu is, and Kalani says that he “came back” when they don’t yet know the story of his leaving. Low asks for more information, and gets the details of their car ride, save for the whole “lying bitch” part. Low agrees to keep it cool since it’s Oliver’s birthday and he’s capable of thinking of others, but he’s going to go ahead and polish up his ass-kicking shoes so they’re ready to be taken for a walk. Kalani wastes her time checking on Asuelu to try to coax him away from his video games and into adulthood, by promising he can eat all the hotdogs he wants, before resuming efforts to arrange a party for her son, by herself. Teenagers, amirite?
Later on the party is happening, and Oliver is driving a remote control car all around the rental property. One of Kalani’s friends asks where Asuelu is, and Kalani says he’s stretching out his butthole in preparation for Low’s foot. She again says she’s going to check on him again, which is two times more than she should have indulged this shit, and he again says he doesn’t want to talk to anybody and is going to stay in his fort ALONE, MOM.
“It’s like talking to a four year-old,” Kalani tells Kolini when she returns, which isn’t fair, because even a four year-old would come out for cake.
As the party goes on, Low is not impressed. “The Samoan way, it would be my hands speaking my words,” Low explains. But he agreed to be nice (for now) because cameras are rolling, and that’s too much evidence for a lawsuit.
“This is why I said I’m the dad,” Kolini adds. “I mean, did you see his reference to his boo hole last season? Jesus Christ. She has two babies sucking the life out of her, and now she has a husband sucking the life out of her.” Then Kolini strikes a match on a gold filling to announce her status as keeper of the flame.
Eager to do the bare minimum, Aseulu finally opens the door and comes out. Kalani’s expression rotates between walking on eggshells and being psychically exhausted. When the party ends, Kalani asks if there’s anything he wants to say to her, and Asuelu asks why the word ‘house’ has an ‘ow’ in the middle. Kalani wrongly thought an apology might be directed her way. Nah. The plan is to maintain the tantrum until she demands that he go to Samoa alone, like the man of the house.
Is anyone on this show not dating a man-baby? Save us, Angela, save us! She’s getting ready to take off for Nigeria, and her friend Amy is going to help her out by taking care of her mother and the kids while she’s gone. We learn so much about Angela by the circle around her, which is huge and honest and loyal. Before walking out the door she fusses over her mother one last time, asks if she’s wet, which only further illuminates how much caretaking Angela does.
“Got any last minute advice?” She asks her mother as she readies to depart.
“Just go and get married, whatever,” Mother Angela says, and I need this embroidered on a pillow.
After her plane lands, Angela hunts down her MeMaw gear in baggage claim, and finally spies it thanks to some sticker decorations. Michael is waiting for her, wearing his Angela nameplate necklace. They warmly embrace, and it’s all happy and shit.
Michael and Angela are going to test drive living together by sharing an apartment. She walks in with a few compliments about the place, before the producers step in to ask if she can isolate something to complain about for fuck’s sake. Angela says I’ve got you, and declares she’s not sleeping in the bed, because it’s “hard as an erection.” Then she notices a dead rat in a trap, and Michael seizes the opportunity to chase her with it. This is one of the most relationship-like gestures in this series in a long time, and a reminder of how rarely we see a couple enjoying each other. More of this, please!
Libby will soon be studied in psychology classes as an example of total passive-aggression, while her husband will be offered up as exhibit A: the long term effects of bad romantic decisions. Mother Andrei has prepared a full afternoon spread my grandmother assures me is required of all Eastern European women, while Libby cuts up bananas and an avocados for homemade baby food for Eleanor. They’re both frustrated by the language barrier, but Andrei can’t be bothered to translate, because he’s showing everyone pictures of monster trucks and guns, and also his dick, like the head of the household.
Once they sit down Libby starts mining for a complaint, asking if Mother Andrei ever feels tired. His mother starts to say “of course” but Andrei cuts her off, insisting she says there’s “no room for tired” because she loves working a thankless second shift so that men can stand in a circle and scratch their balls. Libby thinks this might be a dig at her not working hard enough, and Andrei says Moldovans are more energized. This seems a great time to remind him that he doesn’t have a job, and Andrei wants to know if she’s trying to insult him, and insists she shouldn’t insult him in front of the family. Why, you ask? “Over there you listen, and here you listen double.” She falls silent in response, in a human recreation of the flaming apartment “this is fine” meme.
“I don’t know why he’s acting like the chauvinistic alpha male,” Libby says. Honey, he’s not acting.
Later, they head to meet Andrei’s fellow meatheads for beers. Libby is worried she’s going to be left out because of the language barrier, and asks if she “is just going to sit there” during this meeting. Passive-aggression to English translator: My Moldovan is pretty limited, so if you could remind folks of the language barrier and include me, I’d appreciate it. Andrei asks if this is some kind of feminism happening, and when Libby assures him she’s still a doormat and would be even if she called herself a feminist, he says, “What do you want? A podium to speak?” Podiums don’t speak, Andrei. Not without years of training.
In case anyone forgot, Andrei wants to be considered “the man of the house” without fulfilling his formulaic gender destiny, and yes, Libby is just as backwards as he is.
“It’s not that I have a problem with gendered expectations,” she explains. “It’s that I can’t fulfill mine while I’m busy fulfilling his.”
His friends immediately needle him about not working, and he says that yes, he’s a housewife, and his friend says he used to be a hard worker, and now he’s just working hard to piss Libby off.
“I work,” Andrei clarifies. “I hung television. And I’m going to still be the man of the house, and I’m still going to make the decisions for the family. Like I’m going to decide what we spend Libby’s father’s money on, and when Libby will ask for more. I will also schedule crying.”
Libby buddies up with the two other women at the party, and they ask why her family doesn’t like Andrei. She says that they think he’s rude, mean, lazy, and controlling. Libby asks if more Moldovan men are like that, and the response is yes. Nicely done, ladies. Your male population is secure. Libby also says that her sister Jen is loud and doesn’t care what others think, so she might offend someone, and she’s not going to bite her tongue. For the record, Libby thinks “biting her tongue” is bringing up what she means days after the conversation is over, and Andrei thinks if he wears his balls outside of his pants, his friends won’t call him a pussy for not having a job. Later they drive home and she asks if he had fun, and he asks if she got what she needed, before declaring that Jen might sleep in the basement if she offends someone, along with the blanket he made out of Libby’s self esteem.
Karine is attempting to change Pierre’s diaper, while Paul hovers at her elbow and tells her not to forget to wash his balls. This is some of Paul’s finest work. Then Paul hovers some more to repeatedly ask if Pierre’s hungry before she even has her tit out, and needlessly put a drape over her breast feeding, because to Paul that’s probably cheating, or the fast track to an STD. He pesters Karine to go get something to eat with his mom, which is really just a means of asking for money with grandchild leverage, since his full financial plan is asking his mother for help. Karine knows this is her only chance to escape, so he’s going to have to take that dinner alone.
Mother Paul is disappointed to see just her son, and says she wouldn’t have come if she knew that Karine and Pierre weren’t coming. Damn, the magic of that gifted hair lock must have faded. He tries to make Karine’s absence about invented offense related to her inability to use the bathroom at Paul’s mom’s house, but Mother Paul knows her crotch fruit is rotten. Paul insists he’s in trouble and on edge, as opposed to how relaxed he is the rest of the time, and tells his mom he needs a little financial support, because of course he does.
“It seems like he never gets his feet on the ground, or his head out of his ass,” Mother Paul states. She tells Paul that he should have some pride, and do it on his own. She says no, and tells him that he should have planned ahead. She’ll babysit, but she doesn’t think it’s fair using a baby to get what you want.
Asuelu: Have you tried becoming the baby?
Paul: I don’t want to ask you for any help, while I’m asking you for help. Remember how you really, really wanted us to come here?
Mother Paul: I pray for you a lot.
Later on Paul wears his trusty bulletproof backpack to the grocery store, because he never knows when he might run into himself. While Karine notes that this is, in fact, a grocery store, she’s unimpressed with Paul’s economic plan to buy more than you need, because savings. This is a great option for people not trying to squeeze milk from a nickel, but not for this destitute duo. Karine insists that $2 is less than $5, but Paul is not to be dissuaded. Since Karine hasn’t already tried to crawl underneath the floorboards, Paul takes command of the feminine hygiene aisle, demanding to know her preferred thickness and underwear adhesive. Karine begs him to stop, while Paul reflects that he knows there’s pearls, and there’s diamonds, and a whole range of flavors (except banana), that go in all kinds of holes. He’ll suss this out with the pharmacist. How is there not footage of Paul and the pharmacist?
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” For fuck’s sake, Paul.
Did Paul ask for a job application on the way out? No he did not.
Then they go house hunting, with Karine looking for her next husband on her phone, while Paul hunts for a rental agreement for a convicted felon with no job. They meet with a property manager, and Paul asks if they have anything four steps down from a tarp and two trees. She shows them “one of my redos yourself” that are sold as-is, which is something salvaged from the tornado fields of Xenia, Ohio. Karine hands down a firm veto, so they see a second mobile home, which is just as claustrophobic as the last one. Paul learns about the $500 lot rent they’d be surrendering, and wants to know if he can put in notice that it’s gonna be late now, or should he wait?
Karine got sold a bill of goods that life in the US of A would be better, and instead she’s lost family support, and stands to be crammed into an even smaller home.
“You no good husband,” she says, while asking the producers if she can get paid directly this round, because airfare back to Brazil is expensive.
Next week: Larissa spare changes for boobs, Syngin tries to escape service to Tania, Andrei continues to be Andrei, Debbie tells Jess that Colt can warm himself in her womb again anytime he needs to, Low threatens Asuelu some more, and Michael has a stunningly bad idea.
Thank you, Patreon supporters!
submitted by fractalfay to u/fractalfay [link] [comments]


2020.07.05 01:29 VietRooster Bath video spy

New Music Friday is a new weekly thread dedicated to chronicling all the Album/EP releases that came out this week. This is also a great place to discuss these albums, or bring to our attention other albums released this week.

❓ "this seems intriguing, maybe check it out?"
⭐ "yes im interested in this to some degree"
❤️ "ive been anticipating this for weeks, months and it's finally here"
Animal Collective - Bridge to Quiet (EP)
Label: Domino
Genre: Neo-Psychedelia, Free Improv, Ambient Pop
Father John Misty - Anthem +3 (EP)
Label: Sub Pop
Genre: Folk Rock, Indie Rock
Cloud Nothings - The Black Hole Understands
Label: n/a
Genre: Indie Rock, Emo
NNAMDÏ - KRAZY KARL
Label: n/a
Genre: Jazz-Rock, Math Rock
Homeshake - Haircut (EP)
Label: self-released
Genre: Indie Pop, Alternative R&B
HONNE - no song without you
Label: Tatemae
Genre: Pop Soul, Electropop
bdrmm - Bedroom
Label: Sonic Cathedral
Genre: Dream Pop, Shoegaze
Twin Peaks - Side A (EP)
Label: Grand Jury Music
Genre: Garage Rock, Indie Rock
Boris - NO
Label: Fangs Anal Satan
Genre: Crust Punk, Sludge Metal, Crossover Thrash
Special Request - Spectral Frequency (EP)
Label: R&S
Genre: Jungle, Hip Hop
Cuddle Magic - Bath
Label: Northern Spy
Genre: Indietronica, Indie Pop
Jesu - Never (EP)
Label: Avalanche Records
Genre: Shoegaze, Industrial Techno
Dream Wife - So When You Gonna...
Label: Lucky Number
Genre: Indie Rock, Riot Grrrl
Pure Bathing Culture - Carrido (EP)
Label: Infinite Companion
Genre: Dream Pop, Synthpop
FEWS - DOG (EP)
Label: n/a
Genre: Post-Punk Revival, Shoegaze, Alternative Rock
Dialup Ghost - Empty Houses
Label: n/a
Genre: Alt-Country, Garage Rock, Indie Folk
Holy Wave - Interloper
Label: The Reverberation Appreciation Society
Genre: Psychedelic Rock, Neo-Psychedelia
Keleketla! - Keleketla!
Label: Ahead of Our Time
Genre: Breakbeat, House, Instrumental Hip Hop
Lucy and the Rats - Got Lucky
Label: Dirty Water
Genre: Power Pop, Indie Rock
Mulatu Astatke & Black Jesus Experience - To Know Without Knowing
Label: Agogo Records
Genre: Ethio-Jazz
Jane Blanchard - Still, Again (EP)
Label: Monopolized Records
Genre: Indie Rock, Singesongwriter
The Kooks - Unshelved: Pt. III (EP)
Label: Virgin Records
Genre: Indie Rock
Polly Scattergood - In This Moment
Label: Future Paradise
Genre: Art Pop
GAIKA - Seguridad
Label: NAAFI
Aleah - Aleah
Label: Ethereal Wave, Dark Folk
Genre: Svart
Genre: Alternative R&B, Experimental Hip Hop, Latin Electronic
ML Buch - Skinned
Label: Anyines
Genre: Art Pop, Electronic, Sound Collage
Ibibio Sound Machine - Live at Earth
Label: Merge
Genre: Afro-Funk, Electro
Peel Dream Magazine - Moral Panics (EP)
Label: Tough Love
Genre: Indie Rock, Dream Pop
Denai Moore - Modern Dread
Label: Because
Genre: Alternative R&B, Synthpop
Blossoms - Live From The Plaza Theatre, Stockport
Label: Virgin
Genre: Indie Pop, Synthpop
75 Dollar Bill - Power Failures
Label: Psychedelic Rock, Drone, Jam Band
Genre: self-released
TOPS - TOPS Live at Tropico Beauty (EP)
Label: House Arrest Distribution
Genre: Indie Pop, Soft Rock
Admiral Fallow - Rarities (EP)
Label: self-released
Genre: Indie Pop, Indie Rock
And So I Watch You From Afar - Successors (EP)
Label: Sargent House
Genre: Math Rock, Post-Rock
drea the vibe dealer - triple goddess (EP)
Label: self-released
Genre: Singer,songwriter, Post-Punk, Trip Hop
Trying - This Is Not a Disco
Label: self-released
Genre: Indie Rock, Jangle Pop
Marissa Nadler - moons (EP)
Label: self-released
Genre: Singesongwriter, Chamber Folk
Lonnie Holley - National Freedom (EP)
Label: Jagjaguwar
Genre: Psychedelic Soul, Blues Rock
Tony Jay - A Wave In The Dark
Label: Paisley Shirt Records
Genre: Pop Punk, Dream Pop
Various Artists - Songs for Andrew
Label: self-released
Genre: various
Riley Urbano - Self Denial EP (by rileyurbanoooo)
Label: self-released
Genre: Lo-Fi Hip Hop, Bedroom Pop, Indie Rock
Forest Green - In Waves
Label: No Sleep
Genre: Indie Rock, Emo
Various Artists - Music in Support of Black Mental Health
Label: self-released
Genre: Electronic, Jungle, Techno
Deerhoof - To Be Surrounded By Beautiful, Curious, Breathing, Laughing Flesh Is Enough (Live Album)
Label: Joyful Noise
Genre: Art Pop, Indie Rock
Billy Cobb - Zerwee, Pt. 2
Label: self-released
Genre: Alternative Rock, Power Pop
Polo & Pan - Feel Good (EP)
Label: Hamburger, EOS
Genre: Tropical House, Electropop
Mishka Shubaly - I'll Be Gone
Label: self-released
Genre: Americana, Alt-Country
A.A. Williams - Forever Blue
Label: Post-Rock, Singesongwriter, Chamber Folk
Genre: Bella Union
GNOD & João Pais Filipe - Faca De Fogo
Label: Rocket Recordings
Genre: Psychedelic Rock, Industrial
Juicebumps - Hello Pinky!
Label: n/a
Genre: Post-Punk, Art Punk
Research Reactor Corp. - The Collected Findings Of The Research Reactor Corporation
Label: Erste Theke Tontraeger
Genre: Hardcore Punk, Punk, Weird Punk
Cindy - I'm Cindy (Palmbomen II project)
Label: World of Paint
Genre: Hypnagogic Pop, Synthpop
Pop Smoke - Shoot for the Stars, Aim for the Moon (animated cover)
Label: Republic
Genre: Trap, Pop Rap, East Coast Hip Hop
Westside Gunn - Flygod Is an Awesome God 2
Label: Griselda
Genre: East Coast Hip Hop
Convocation - Ashes Coalesce
Label: Everlasting Spew
Genre: Death Doom Metal
Haunt - Flashback
Label: Church
Genre: Heavy Metal
Bog Wizard - From the Mire
Label: The Staggering Paladin
Genre: Stoner Metal, Sludge Metal
submitted by VietRooster to indieheads [link] [comments]


2020.06.23 18:09 ayeejayy09 Spy bath video

A lot of popular apps (TikTok, NPR, NYT, and more) access the text/photos/videos you copied every time you open the app. iOS 14 shows a banner when an app access the clipboard.
Video showing iOS 14 banner (courtesy Ryan Jones): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRSWdtoUAjo
Apps currently spying:
News

Games
Social Networking
Other
submitted by ayeejayy09 to iphone [link] [comments]


2020.06.23 15:57 JamesGBoswell It Looks Like Someone You Know (Part 1)

“You should be more concerned about what I can do, Freddie,” Alice says, “and less about what I can justify.”
Margaret awakens, batting her eyes as she looks around, confused. She remains still, pressing herself against the car’s passenger seat. Pine trees whip past the windows as the sun peaks out above them, but she can’t tell if it’s dawn or dusk.
She feels pain on the side of her head. Reaching up, she finds a raised knot there beneath her skin. It’s warm, and it stings when she touches it.
“That’s what I told your father, that son of a bitch,” Alice says. Her voice drips with malice so acidic it burns holes in the upholstery. “Always putting me down. Always making me feel like I’d done something wrong whenever I didn’t do what he liked. Well this time, I did something he really didn’t like. Didn’t I, Freddie?”
Placing one hand on the wheel, Alice turns to look at the corpse in the seat behind her. It’s buckled in and sitting upright in the middle of the rear seat. Its mouth hangs open with its glazed, unclosing eyes locked into an expression of shock.
Margaret says, “Mom, look out!”
Alice turns back around and sees a bowling ball-sized rock roll out from the tree line and into the path of her speeding car. She has no time to react.
Some time later, Margaret opens her eyes once more, batting them in a daze. Her head throbs as a pulsing, shooting pain runs down her neck. Something warm and wet trickles down her forehead. She sees that the dashboard in front of her now has a small crack in the middle of it. She tries to look behind her, but mind-blowing pain engulfs her neck when she turns her head. She cries out in agony.
The car rests on the side of the road, facing the trees. A thin plume of smoke wafts out from under the hood. Margaret smells the acrid scent of burned rubber in the air. Moving only her eyes, she sees that the driver’s seat is empty.
Alice limps into view around the front of the car, muttering curses under her breath. She observes the driver’s side wheel well with a look of vexation.
A loud snapping sound comes from somewhere behind the car. Alice looks up in the direction of the noise. Her expression morphs from one of annoyance to horrified surprise.
“What is it, Mom?” Margaret says.
Alice rushes over to the driver’s side door and opens it. Then she leans into the car and opens the glove box, revealing a handgun inside. Margaret recoils at the sight of the weapon as if it were a poisonous snake. “What the hell, Mom? Why do you have a gun?”
Alice grabs it and pulls it out. As she does, she glances into the backseat and freezes, staring for several moments. Then she looks out through the car’s rear window for several more moments. Her eyes dart back and forth between the two points as her body begins to tremble.
“No,” she says. “It’s not possible.”
She pulls the trigger by accident. The gun discharges with a loud “Pop!” Margaret shrieks as the bullet grazes her leg.
“Mom, what are you doing? Please stop!” she says, screeching. Tears run down her cheeks as she sobs. “I want to go home!”
She watches, sniffling as Alice stands up out of the car and points the gun in the direction behind it. “I don’t know how you’re doing this, Freddie,” Alice says, “but I killed you before, and I’ll kill you again!”
“Pop! Pop! Pop!” The gunshots sound like firecrackers going off. Margaret screams and ducks down, squeezing her eyes shut as she covers her head. Pain shoots down her neck, but she ignores it out of sheer terror. A moment later, she hears the sound of footsteps running away from the car.
Silence fills the air. Margaret remains doubled-over in the leg space in front of the passenger seat, breathing heavily. Soon, she hears a tapping sound on the passenger side window beside her. She attempts to turn her head to look, but pain again shoots down the side of her neck. Grimacing, she lets out a low moan, then turns her torso to face the window.
Alice stands there with her hand upon the glass. She has a weird, I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin on her face. She taps once more as Margaret stares at her, dumbfounded.
“Mom? What happened? Are you ok?”
Alice continues smiling and tapping on the glass, her taps growing louder, harder, more insistent. Margaret finds herself feeling strangely weaker and lightheaded, almost as if she’s falling asleep. Then, she blacks out.
---
Gravel grinds beneath Francine’s black boots as she circles the car, smoking a cigarette. A strong, cool breeze whooshes through the pine trees beneath an overcast sky, tussling her shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair. She wears a brown trench coat over a black business suit with a detective’s badge hanging from a chain around her neck.
She sees that the driver’s side wheel sticks out at an odd angle. Leaning down, she perceives that the axle is bent inside the wheel well. A large rock, the apparent culprit, sits wedged against the axle.
Long, curved skid marks lead from one of the lanes to where the car now rests on the side of the road. A gun lies on the ground next to the driver’s door, a six-shooter. Looking through the car’s windows, Francine sees the body of a man in the backseat, wearing a dark suit. Three bullet holes perforate his face. His eyes resemble milky white marbles.
The car key is still in the ignition, attached to a keychain with several other keys hanging from it. In the front passenger seat, Francine sees what appears to be a large pile of ash. She puts her face up to the window to look at it more closely.
“Detective Monroe?” says a voice behind her. She turns and sees a man in a state trooper uniform walking toward her. His patrol car sits on the side of the road 10 meters behind him.
“That’s me,” she says, flicking her cigarette butt away as she turns to face him. “You’re the one who called this in, I presume?”
The trooper nods as he approaches. “Trooper James Magnuson,” he says, shaking her hand. “I was patrolling the area when I came across this vehicle. Thinking there’d been an accident, I stopped and got out to provide assistance.
“As I came closer, I saw a subject in the back. After calling out several times, I could see that they weren’t moving. When I looked inside, I saw the gunshot wounds on his face. Based on his general appearance, it was obvious that he’d been dead for a while, more than a day, at least.”
James looks back and forth, up and down the road.
“My guess is that the killer or killers came out here to bury their dead buddy somewhere deep in the woods, but they had a little car trouble before they could find the perfect spot. Then they panicked and took off on foot instead of finishing the job.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Amateurs.”
He continues. “The car is registered to Frederico Gomez. Mr. Gomez is listed in our database as having been missing for three days along with his wife and daughter, Alice Gomez and Margaret Gomez. The body matches his description, but I looked around the area and saw no immediate sign of the others. The fact that someone shot him in the face a few times tells me this wasn’t just business, it was personal.”
“What about that big pile of ash in the front seat?” Francine says. “What do you make of that?”
James shrugs, glancing at the car. “I thought that maybe you could tell me. Hopefully it’s not…”
“Human remains?” Francine says, finishing his sentence.
James nods as his shoulder-mounted radio chirps, then a staticky voice says through the speaker, “Unit 77, please respond. Over.”
James says, “Please excuse me a moment.” Francine nods, then James turns and starts walking back toward his car, talking into the radio. “This is Unit 77, Dispatch. Over.”
Francine looks back at the car to resume examining the ash pile. But as she does, she detects motion in her peripheral vision. When she looks up, she sees a man walking towards her, slowly, just beyond the the tree line. He’s wearing a state trooper uniform, like James’s. As he comes closer, she sees that he looks exactly like James. He makes eye contact, then disappears behind a tree, out of sight.
“Detective Monroe?”
Francine jumps, startled, then turns around. James is standing right where he was before with a quizzical look on his face. “Are you alright?” he says.
Francine furrows her brow as she looks at him, then glances back in the other direction toward the tree line. Seeing no one there, she nods rapidly. “Y-yes, I’m fine.”
“I just got another call and I need to leave,” James says. “The police forensics team should be here soon. Are you going to be alright until they get here?”
Francine feels a flare of irritation as she regains her composure. It’s as if he’s implying that she can’t take care of herself because she’s a woman and needs a man to look after her.
With a look that’s somewhere between a smirk and a scowl, she pulls back her trench coat to reveal the service pistol clipped to her belt. “Yeah, I think I’ll be alright,” she says. James nods and turns around to leave. As he walks away, Francine leans into the car and pulls the keys out of the ignition.
---
Francine pulls the screen door open and its rusty hinges creak in protest. She stands upon the front porch of a small, tidy house. Shadows play about the home’s facade from nearby trees swaying in the cool wind. She balls her fist and pounds upon the door. “Mrs. Gomez?” she says. “This is the police. Please open up!”
She stands there, listening to the baleful wind blow, looking around as she awaits a response. The working-class neighborhood consists of small houses lined up in neat rows. A parked car sits in the driveway across the street. There’s a pile of old toys in the next yard over. No one’s around despite the obvious signs of human inhabitation.
After about 30 seconds, Francine pounds on the door again and says, “It’s the police, I have a search warrant!”
She waits another 10 seconds, then pulls the car keys out of her pocket. She tries the one that looks the most like a house key, sliding it into the lock. It glides right in and turns easily. The deadbolt disengages with a “Click.” She turns the doorknob and opens the door, then steps inside.
She finds herself inside a darkened living room. The musty air smells like ancient cigarette smoke mixed with chemical disinfectant. The shades are drawn, the mid-day sunlight glowing faintly around their edges.
“This is Detective Francine Monroe,” she says in a commanding voice. “I have a warrant to search the premises. If anyone is present, they must make themselves known immediately.”
Silence.
The floorboards creak beneath her feet as she walks across the floor, scanning the room. An overstuffed pleather sofa sits against the wall beside a coffee table. On the other side of the room is an entertainment center with a television mounted to the wall above it. At the far end is a fireplace with a simple wooden mantle. Upon the mantle sit several pictures. She goes over to take a closer look.
In the first photo, she recognizes a younger and very much alive Freddie Gomez. Sitting across from him at a table is a pretty, petite woman who’s noticeably younger than he. Between them is a little girl with a birthday cake in front of her. The cake has a candle on it shaped like the number 6. They’re all smiling, except the woman’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“They must be Alice and Margaret,” Francine says. She notices that Alice has a silver locket hanging from a chain around her neck.
A wave of emotion washes over Francine’s mind as she recalls her own daughter’s sixth birthday.
“Oh, Marc, Esther…” she says, whispering. “I miss you so much.” Her lower lip quivers and she realizes she’s about to start crying. Stopping herself, she takes a deep breath, dons a blank expression, and continues her investigation.
The rest of the photos are all of the family as well. The family members look older and older in each photo progressing from left to right along the mantle.
Alice’s fake smile fades from one image to the next. In the last photo, she’s not smiling at all, but is frowning instead. Francine notices that she wears the same silver locket in every picture.
Walking down the hall and into the bathroom, Francine turns the light on and looks into the mirror. Her hair is disheveled, and large purple bags hang beneath her eyes.
With a deep sigh, she opens the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. Inside, she spies some prescription pill bottles along with a tube of toothpaste, a couple deodorant sticks, and box of floss. She picks up the pill bottles and examines their labels.
“Lithium – Mood stabilizer; Vioroxetine – Antidepressant; Clozapine – Antipsychotic.”
Francine looks closely at the labels. She sees that each of the fill dates are all several months ago, yet the bottles are nearly full. She puts them back inside the cabinet with a puzzled look and closes the door.
As she does, she hears what sounds like creaking footsteps out in the hallway. Holding completely still, she listens for several moments.
“Hello?” she says. “This is the police. I have a warrant to search this property. Is anyone home?”
Silence.
The air seems to become mustier, making it hard for Francine to breathe. She sucks in a deep breath as she creeps down the hallway and peeks into the living room.
No one’s there. The whole house groans and creaks as a strong wind blows outside.
She continues down the hallway toward a wooden door, then turns the doorknob and pulls. The door’s heavy, and it makes a sucking, whooshing noise as it opens into a pitch-black space. A wall of cold air that smells like rotting metal hits her in the face. She gags, fumbling her hand around on the wall next to the doorway in search of a light switch. Finding one, she flips it on. A fluorescent lightbulb buzzes to life overhead, bathing the room in white incandescence. She sees that she’s inside the garage.
A drain sits in the middle of the concrete floor. There’s a sedan on one side with an empty space beside it. A pool of congealed blood lies next to the car’s front wheels, flowing into the drain. Two heel-sized drag marks extend out from the pool toward the empty space and then disappear. Francine reaches for her holster and draws her weapon, pointing it at the floor as she grips the handle with both hands.
Slowly, she walks down the wooden stairs. She takes long, deep breaths through her nose to stay calm, despite the putrid smell of decaying blood in the air. She concentrates on the sensory input all around her, collecting as much information about her surroundings as she can.
Something shiny catches her eye as she approaches the drain. Bending down at her knees, she sees an object glimmering inside it. She pushes her fingers through the holes in the grate, and is just barely able to grasp the object with her fingertips. She pulls it out and gasps at what she sees.
It’s a gold ring, slightly scuffed and worn around the edges. It’s remarkably shiny and clean even though it was at the bottom of the bloody drain. “No… it can’t be,” Francine says. Her eyes well up with tears.
Her fingers trembling, she turns the ring around to examine its inner lining. There, engraved in looping cursive letters exactly like how she remembers, are the words, “I’ll always love you, Francine. Marc.” Her heart sinks.
Francine’s hands tremble uncontrollably and she accidentally drops the ring. It bounces off the edge of the grate and falls back down into the drain.
“No!” she says.
She shoves her fingers through the holes once more, wriggling them around. Feeling nothing, she sticks her face up next to the grate, peering down into the darkness. But she sees nothing.
After several minutes of trying to recover the ring in vain, she gives up. She stands, looking at her blood-covered fingers as she holds her hands out in front of her, and bursts into tears.
---
“You look like shit.”
Sepatha shakes her head as she looks Francine up and down in disgust. Francine cocks her head to side with a half-shrug and says, “Thanks for noticing, Chief.” They sit across from each other inside Sepatha’s office.
Sepatha scoffs as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. She wears a pressed blue suit with her black hair pulled back into a tight bun.
Everything inside her office is clean, spotless, and sterile. Not even a single dust mote hangs in the light that streams through the window looking out into the parking lot. Another window on the other side of the room looks into a hallway.
Sepatha says, “Give me an update on the Gomez case.”
“I visited the scene of an apparent car accident where I reconnoitered with Trooper James Magnuson,” Francine says.
“When I arrived, I observed a deceased male’s body in the car’s backseat with three gunshot wounds to the face. I subsequently found a wallet containing Mr. Freddie Gomez’s driver’s license in the front pocket of the deceased’s suit jacket. The coroner’s report later confirmed that the body was indeed that of Mr. Gomez.
“In the car’s front passenger seat was a large pile of ash. Neither Trooper Magnuson nor I could figure out where it came from.”
“Hmmm…,” Sepatha says, looking concerned. “How’d we learn that Mr. Gomez was missing?”
“His sister called the police after he failed to show for their weekly breakfast at a neighborhood diner. She said she tried calling his phone repeatedly with no answer.”
“What do we know about him?”
“A background check on Mr. Gomez shows that he was a retired firefighter with a nearly spotless criminal history. The only blemish on his record was a misdemeanor battery charge stemming from a bar fight when he was in his twenties. The charge was later dropped.
“Mr. Gomez was married to Alice Gomez and together they had a daughter named Margaret. Alice is a teacher at a local high school, the same one Margaret attends as a senior. However, they both failed to show up at the school for two days in a row shortly after Mr. Gomez disappeared. School officials then reported them missing as well.”
Sepatha leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “What do we know about Mrs. Gomez?”
“Mid-forties, high school teacher her entire career. Married her college sweetheart, but they divorced less than a year later on amicable terms with no children to fight over. Remarried a few years later to Mr. Gomez, a man 20 years her senior. She has no criminal record, but she does have a history of mental illness. Specifically, she was diagnosed as bipolar with psychotic tendencies when she was a teenager. She has been prescribed medication to control the symptoms for much of her adult life.”
Sepatha frowns. “Do you think her mental health could be a factor?”
Francine nods. “I searched the Gomez residence with a warrant and found some prescription pill bottles in the bathroom. Each had Mrs. Gomez’s name written on the label, and all were several months old. However, they were almost full. Either she had other medication she was already taking or…”
“Or she went off her meds,” Sepatha says.
“Exactly.”
Francine opens her mouth to say something else, but then sees a woman walking down the hallway past the window. The woman makes eye contact and gives her a horrific grin, then disappears from view. Francine pauses, confused.
“What is it?” Sepatha says.
Francine shakes her head, batting her eyes rapidly. “Nothing. I thought I saw someone I knew, but it couldn’t have been her.”
---
“Did you hear that Maggie Gomez went missing?”
Sophie takes a sip of beer, then leans back onto the sofa cushion.
Vanessa sits on the sofa next to her, tapping the little keyboard on her phone screen with her thumbs. The light from the screen shines on her face. “Hmm?” she says, without looking up.
The muffled sound of gunfire comes through a closed door on the other side of the room. Sophie turns her head toward it and says, “Billy, turn your game down! It’s way too loud!”
The sounds decrease until they’re barely audible. “I can still hear it!” Sophie says. Then the sounds disappear completely.
She takes another sip and says, “Yeah, she and Mrs. Gomez haven’t been at school since last week. I heard her dad went missing too. Some people are saying he was murdered!”
Vanessa reaches for her own can of beer sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “Maggie Gomez?” she says. “Wasn’t she dating Jacob Tompkins for a while?” She takes a sip, then puts the can down and goes back to tapping on her screen.
“Yeah, but they broke up a few months ago. He’s with Ashley Hutchings now.”
“Eww, I hate Ashley Hutchings.”
They both fall silent for several moments, sitting in front of a blank television screen in Sophie’s parents’ living room. Finally, Sophie says, “Are you almost done texting? I’ve been wanting to watch this movie for like, ever.”
“Calm down, you said your parents won’t be home for another few hours. I’m almost finished.”
“Who are you talking to anyway? Is it a boy?”
Vanessa smiles and says, “Yeah.”
“Is he hot?”
“Yup!”
“Who is it?”
“Oh, you don’t know him. He goes to another school. His name’s Reid. I met him at a party.”
“You met a hot guy at a party and now you’re texting him, and you haven’t even told me about him yet?” Sophie says, exasperated.
“Sorry, I guess it slipped my mind.”
“Ugh,” Sophie says, making a disgusted face.
A moment later, Vanessa turns off the screen and puts the phone down on the coffee table. Then she picks up her can and shakes it, finding it empty. “I’m gonna get another beer before we start,” she says. “Want one?”
Sophie shakes her head and reaches for the television remote.
Vanessa gets up and walks behind the sofa, down the hall and into the kitchen. Sophie turns on the t.v. and starts looking for “Nightmare on Elm Street” on the search screen. She hears the faint sound of Vanessa opening the fridge and then popping open a new can of beer.
Vanessa’s phone lights up, showing that she has a new text message. Sophie glances at the screen. It says, “Looking forward to tomorrow night, beautiful,” with a rose emoji at the end. But the contact name doesn’t say “Reid.”
It says, “Brad.”
Sophie’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. She hears Vanessa approaching and sits back into the sofa, attempting to look relaxed.
Vanessa plops down beside her. “Alright, let’s watch this movie!” she says.
“Vanessa,” Sophie says. “What did you say the name was of that guy you’re talking to?”
Vanessa gives her an odd look and says, “Reid, why?”
“Then why are you making plans for a date tomorrow with a guy named Brad?” Sophie’s eyes darken. “Is it Brad Mueller, as in, my boyfriend, Brad Mueller?”
“What?” Vanessa says.
“Don’t play dumb. I’ve seen the way you look at each other, how you talk to each other. Now I saw that you just got a text from a guy named Brad. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Brad Mueller, my boyfriend! You’re seeing him behind my back, aren’t you?”
“What the fuck, Sophie? Were you going through my texts, you little bitch?”
“Did you just call me a bitch?! Get the fuck out of my house, Vanessa, right now!”
Sophie stands up and points toward the front door. Vanessa scoffs and says, “Whatever,” with a repulsed sneer. Then she grabs her purse from where it was sitting next to her and marches out the door, slamming it behind her.
Billy pokes his head out of his room as Sophie collapses onto the sofa, sobbing. “Is everything alright, sis?” he says.
“No!” she says through her tears. Then she picks up her own phone from where it was sitting on the coffee table and begins texting madly. She sniffles and sobs, her face red and puffy.
The front door’s hinges squeak as it slowly opens. Sophie and Billy turn to see who it is.
“Really, Vanessa?” Sophie says. She stands up, tossing her phone down onto the sofa. “What, did you come back to apologize? Well, forget it. You’re fucking dead to me, now get out of here!”
Sophie storms over to where Vanessa is standing in the doorway. As she’s about to get in her face, she hears Billy say, “Georgie? What are you doing here?”
Sophie looks over her shoulder at her little brother. He’s staring at Vanessa with intense concern.
“Man, you gotta get out of here,” Billy says. “My parents said I can’t hang out with you anymore after they caught us smoking weed the other day. If they see you here, I’ll be grounded forever!”
Sophie says, “Are you crazy, Billy? That’s Vanessa, not your little stoner friend, Georgie.” Billy looks at Sophie like she’s insane and says, “I think I can tell the difference.”
The person looks at Billy and then at Sophie with a bizarre, ironic smile, then starts slowly creeping toward them. Sensing that something’s amiss, Sophie steps behind the coffee table. But the person slides it out of the way with their leg, walking through it like it isn’t even there.
Sophie says, “Stay back!” But the person reaches for her, brushing her arm with an icy cold fingertip. She screams as she turns and runs down the hall and out the house’s back door.
Billy sees this, then looks at the person with an expression of fear and awe. “Is that you, Georgie?” he says. The person slowly creeps toward him, smiling.
---
Francine opens her throat, pouring the beer straight down her esophagus. She downs the entire pint in less than five seconds.
She puts the empty glass on the bar, then takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. An old rock song with a raspy-voiced singer plays in the background, its melody interrupted by the sound of pool balls cracking into each other.
Someone opens the bar’s front door and enters, shining a sunbeam into the otherwise dark, dank, dreary locale. Francine cringes like a vampire caught in the daylight. She looks up, but her vision is too clouded to see who it is.
She watches as the person slowly creeps toward her, smiling. Francine shakes her head, astonished, and says in a drunken, slurring voice, “Marc? Marc is it really you?”
He stares at her, the smile frozen on his face, saying nothing as he sits down on the stool beside her.
“Oh Marc, Marc I’ve missed you so much!”
Francine leans over to embrace him, but catches only air. Losing her balance, she falls off the stool, crashing to the floor and knocking the wind out of herself. She looks up and sees that nobody’s sitting on the stool beside her, nor is there anyone nearby. She lays there for several moments, struggling the breathe. Finally, she pulls herself up, gasping, and sits back down on her stool.
The bartender approaches, frowning. “Maybe you should call it a night, ma’am,” he says.
“Ok,” Francine says, nodding. “How much is my tab?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, shaking his head. “Just go.”
Francine looks at him with shit-faced shock as she sways back and forth in her seat. “You’re kicking me out?”
“No, I’m just asking you to leave.”
---
“Just relax and tell me what you saw, Sophie.”
Francine’s head feels like it’s going to split open. She silently wonders when the five aspirins she chewed up and swallowed a few minutes ago will kick in. In the meantime, she focuses on trying to get through this witness interview without throwing up.
Sophie sits with her arms folded upon her dining room table, sniffling, wiping tears from her eyes. “My friend Vanessa and I, er… I thought she was my friend. Anyway, we were hanging out while my little brother Billy played video games in the next room. My parents were gone for the evening, out on a date night.
“While Vanessa was in the kitchen, I saw that my boyfriend was texting her behind my back. At least, I think it was my boyfriend. I’m pretty sure.” Sophie pauses, sniffling some more. “When I confronted her, she called me a bitch. Then I told her to get out, and she left. But then…” Sophie’s lower lip trembles and she looks down.
“Then what happened?” Francine says, gently.
“Then… she came back. But she was… different. She… smiled at me, like she knew something horrible that I didn’t know. I’ve never seen Vanessa make a face like that. Then, she started walking toward me in a creepy way, like she was trying to cut off my exit. But that’s not the weirdest part.”
“Oh?”
“Billy came out of his room, and when he saw Vanessa, he called her ‘Georgie,’ the name of his little pothead friend who lives down the street. When I said that it was Vanessa, not Georgie, he told me he saw Georgie standing there, not Vanessa.”
A chill runs down Francine’s spine like icy water, spreading across her shoulders and dripping down her neck. “What did you do then?”
“I… I… I…” Sophie says, her face scrunching up and turning red. “I ran away!” she says, crying. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I… I just couldn’t stay there. I had to leave. When I heard that Billy disappeared, I felt so guilty. It’s my fault he’s gone, isn’t it?”
Sophie covers her face with her hands and sobs. Francine puts her hand on her shoulder, wishing she could say that everything would be ok. But she knew that it would be a lie, because she didn’t even believe it herself.
---
Francine slumps into her chair inside her apartment. Upon the end table beside her is a half-empty bottle of vodka, an empty carton of orange juice, a glass filled with melted ice cubes, and a pack of cigarettes. She reaches for the cigarette pack and finds that there’s only one left inside.
Sighing, she puts it into her mouth. Then she pulls her lighter out of her pocket, lights the cigarette, and sucks the sweet smoke into her lungs. After taking a few puffs, she frowns as she breathes the smoke out through her nostrils like a discontented dragon.
She stares at the television screen, its light illuminating her tired, wrinkled face through the haze of smoke.
The local news comes on, and the newscaster’s voice blares through the speakers. “Police arrested a young woman earlier today on suspicion of kidnapping.”
The screen cuts to a video of a girl in handcuffs walking with her head down as police lead her into a courthouse.
“18-year-old Vanessa McClain was the last person seen with 13-year-old Billy Tamby before the boy disappeared several days ago.”
Pictures of Vanessa and Billy appear on the screen side-by-side. In them, they both appear happy, vibrant, and youthful.
“Ms. McClain was first identified as a person of interest in the disappearance by Billy’s older sister, 17-year-old Sophie Tamby. Ms. Tamby told police that she and Ms. McClain had gotten into an argument at the Tamby residence the night Billy disappeared.
“According to Ms. Tamby, Ms. McClain left the home, but then returned shortly thereafter, acting in a bizarre and threatening manner. Ms. Tamby said she fought with Ms. McClain but was overpowered, then ran to get help. When police arrived, the boy was gone. According to an anonymous source, they found a large, mysterious pile of ash inside his room that hadn’t been there before.”
The screen cuts to a middle-aged man and woman standing in front of a house. Their eyes are sorrowful, and their mouths are turned upside-down in lamentation. Microphones with the logos of various news stations surround them.
The woman says, “We just want our little boy to come home.”
Francine picks up the remote control sitting beside her and turns the television off. An eerie silence fills the darkened space of her apartment. The only light comes from a crescent moon shining through the window.
Sitting there, alone in the dark, she picks up the bottle of vodka and brings it to her mouth. Then, she hears something.
Looking over, Francine sees the shadowy silhouette of a person standing in the hallway. She lets out a sharp gasp and freezes in place, gripping the arms of her chair tight. The silhouette drifts toward her, entering the moonlight.
“Marc?” she says, incredulously. “Marc, is that you? How did you get in here? Was that you at the bar before, or was it just my imagination?”
Saying nothing, Marc continues advancing toward her with a bizarre smile frozen on his face. With fresh tears in her eyes, Francine stands and holds her arms out, ready to embrace him. “Oh, Marc,” she says, sniffling. “Where have you been?”
He takes another step toward her. As he advances, she starts feeling lightheaded and weak. She wraps her arms around him, pressing herself to him, squeezing him tight.
“Marc, you’re ice cold!” she says. She leans back to look at him and sees that he no longer resembles her husband. Instead, the person she’s holding now looks like her boss, Sepatha.
She jerks backwards, throwing herself against the wall, shaking. “Wh-who are you?” she says.
She glances over at her gun where it sits on her kitchen counter. It seems like it’s miles away. When she looks back, the person now looks like Trooper Magnuson. He smiles ironically, like he knows something she doesn’t, something horrible.
Francine squeezes her eyes shut. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real,” she says in a strained, desperate voice.
When she opens them, she sees Magnuson looming over her, looking deranged. She feels lightheaded and drowsy, like she’s about to fall asleep.
Fighting not to succumb, she shoves him with all her remaining strength. He falls backwards, knocking over the end table and splashing vodka everywhere.
Francine runs over to her counter and grabs her gun, then turns and points it at him. From where she’s standing, the chair conceals his face.
“Don’t move!” she says, cocking the hammer back. “Or I’ll paint the wall with your fucking brains!”
Slowly, the person rises from the ground and stands upright. Francine sees that it now resembles her dead daughter, Esther.
Esther smiles, and something snaps inside Francine’s mind. She runs out her front door and down the hall, screaming and crying, flailing the gun around in her hand.
---
Elaine lies within the silent darkness of her bedroom, curled up in bed. Her phone rings, snapping her awake. She reaches for it on the nightstand.
“Mmph, hello?” she says, groggily.
“Elaine? Elaine, it’s me, Francine,” says the voice through the receiver.
“Francine?” Elaine says, sitting up. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”
“I need help. Can you… can you come get me?”
“What happened? Where are you?”
“I’m outside of my apartment. I saw… something. I… I… can’t describe it. I just need help. Will you please come get me?”
Elaine sighs and says, “Have you been drinking?”
After a short pause, Francine says, “Yes, but…”
“Did the bartender take your keys and now you’re locked out of your apartment again?”
“What? No, that’s not what happened. I just… saw something and it really freaked me out.”
“You’re hallucinating again?” Elaine says, concerned.
“Yes! I mean, I think so. But this time it just felt so… so real. I dunno. I just need help. Can you please come get me?”
Elaine shuts her eyes and sighs. Then she throws the covers off herself and starts getting out of bed. “I’ll be right there.”
Half an hour later, Elaine’s car pulls up to the curb in front of Francine’s apartment. The morning sky’s just starting to brighten. Elaine sees Francine pressed against a brick wall, peaking into an alley at the end of the block. She seems to be holding something.
Elaine gets out of her car and starts walking toward her. “Francine, are you ok?” she says. But Francine doesn’t seem to hear her.
Elaine comes to within arm’s length and taps her on the shoulder. “Francine?”
“Gahhh!” Francine says. She whirls around, whipping Elaine in the face with her gun.
“Umf!” Elaine says, falling to the ground.
Francine’s hands tremble as she points the gun at Elaine. “Who are you?” Francine says. Her voice is shrill and raspy.
Elaine sits up on her elbow and rubs the side of her face. A red, stinging welt has already started to appear there. “It’s me, Elaine!” she says, cringing.
Francine starts breathing hard. “How do I know it’s you?” she says, cocking the hammer back.
Elaine looks at her like she’s crazy and says. “I’m your grief counselor, remember? You started seeing me three years ago after someone shot into your house while your daughter was inside, killing her. Your husband disappeared immediately afterward, and no one knows where he went.
“Someone else, a stranger, confessed to shooting your house up. They went to jail, but your husband never returned. Your mental health deteriorated after that, and you began having hallucinations. You turned to alcohol for comfort, and then your life got even worse. Then you came to me, begging for help…”
Francine slowly lowers the gun. Elaine stands, continuing to speak. “We’ve been working on helping you get past the grief so you can move on with your life. I… I thought we were making progress.”
Francine hangs the gun down at her side as she slumps her shoulders and lowers her head. She lets out a sob, and Elaine walks up and puts her arms around her. Francine embraces her, crying into her shoulder.
TO BE CONTINUED...
submitted by JamesGBoswell to WeirdFictionWriters [link] [comments]