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after daddy gained full custody he hasn’t stopped breeding me >~< my poor cunnie so sore nd sloppy but craves more nd more of his milkies.. #freeuse #incestkink #breedingkink #nolimits #sizekink #agegap #incest #cnc #rapekink #rapebait

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rory (18+)

2,093 subscribers

32,835 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat •via X (Twitter)

NSFW#freeuse#incestkink#breedingkink#nolimits#sizekink#agegap#incest#cnc#rapekink#rapebait
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A woman asked Dave Ramsey if she should give up custody of her kids just to make more money after her husband secretly fathered another child. Caller: "My husband of 22 years revealed he had a secret child who's only a few months younger than my youngest." "Even the marriage counselor said we should get a divorce." "He moved in with his new girlfriend, who's also his boss." "Should I give up more custody of my kids so I can work more and earn more money?" Dave Ramsey: "I'm sorry." Caller: "He actually made me choose. He said, 'Dave or me.' I chose him." Dave Ramsey: "I guess that was a little spotlighting of what was to come." "The way we answer all of these questions is: what takes care of you and the children's future the best?" "Right now, you're in the middle of a hurricane." "When you're in the middle of a hurricane, you don't pay off debt." "You hoard cash. It gives you options in the middle of this mess." "We're not giving up custody for money. That feels like you're trading your kids for money." "But you have to align custody with a career that allows you to feed you and your kids."
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A woman asked Dave Ramsey if she should give up custody of her kids just to make more money after her husband secretly fathered another child. Caller: "My husband of 22 years revealed he had a secret child who's only a few months younger than my youngest." "Even the marriage counselor said we should get a divorce." "He moved in with his new girlfriend, who's also his boss." "Should I give up more custody of my kids so I can work more and earn more money?" Dave Ramsey: "I'm sorry." Caller: "He actually made me choose. He said, 'Dave or me.' I chose him." Dave Ramsey: "I guess that was a little spotlighting of what was to come." "The way we answer all of these questions is: what takes care of you and the children's future the best?" "Right now, you're in the middle of a hurricane." "When you're in the middle of a hurricane, you don't pay off debt." "You hoard cash. It gives you options in the middle of this mess." "We're not giving up custody for money. That feels like you're trading your kids for money." "But you have to align custody with a career that allows you to feed you and your kids."

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“you mean a lot to me, there’s no words that i can describe my heart to you” -`♡´- my heart is so full today. i usually go into fs with words prepared to tell jiung, but today he asked if he could say something he prepared instead 🥹 this clip being a bit after. i truly mean it when i say there’s nothing that makes me happier than supporting this boy as he lives out his dreams. he makes me the happiest and if i can contribute to even one of his smiles then that’s more than enough for me. there’s no words to fully describe my heart for him either. ♡
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“you mean a lot to me, there’s no words that i can describe my heart to you” -`♡´- my heart is so full today. i usually go into fs with words prepared to tell jiung, but today he asked if he could say something he prepared instead 🥹 this clip being a bit after. i truly mean it when i say there’s nothing that makes me happier than supporting this boy as he lives out his dreams. he makes me the happiest and if i can contribute to even one of his smiles then that’s more than enough for me. there’s no words to fully describe my heart for him either. ♡

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#LeeJunho opened up about his dad 🥹 He used to be a sailor/navigator, so he was often away for months at a time when Junho was growing up. Because of that, Junho didn’t get to spend much time with him until after his father stopped sailing and became a civil servant. But the dynamics after different when it’s teenage years and so much times’ passed. This year, Junho had to pay attention to his dads’ health.🥹He kept thinking how is it that, so strangely, at this moment when I’m acting, a trial like this comes to me? Why would a hardship like this come to my dad? Thoughts like that kept coming up, and it really wasn’t easy. So during scenes about Taepoongs’ appa, felt kind of like a kind of confession to himself. And so he was even more immersed in the character. 😭

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Alpha Pedro

126,238 Aufrufe • vor 3 Jahren

Remember Romeo? The young student whose story touched so many of us last week? I met him again recently and couldn’t help but notice his shoes were really worn out. He quietly confirmed they’d been like that for a while. So, I told him, “After school, wait for me I’ve got a surprise for you.” He was a bit late coming out (turns out he's a scout, so he had duties to finish), so I waited and passed the time chatting with his schoolmates bright, respectful kids full of potential. the full video is on my Youtube Long story short, I took Romeo to Bata and got him a brand-new pair of shoes. The smile on his face… man, it was everything. Sometimes it’s the small things like a good pair of shoes that restore dignity and confidence in a young person. I'm grateful to be part of his journey, and even more grateful to everyone who has supported these acts of kindness along the way. Let’s keep lifting each other. One act at a time
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Remember Romeo? The young student whose story touched so many of us last week? I met him again recently and couldn’t help but notice his shoes were really worn out. He quietly confirmed they’d been like that for a while. So, I told him, “After school, wait for me I’ve got a surprise for you.” He was a bit late coming out (turns out he's a scout, so he had duties to finish), so I waited and passed the time chatting with his schoolmates bright, respectful kids full of potential. the full video is on my Youtube Long story short, I took Romeo to Bata and got him a brand-new pair of shoes. The smile on his face… man, it was everything. Sometimes it’s the small things like a good pair of shoes that restore dignity and confidence in a young person. I'm grateful to be part of his journey, and even more grateful to everyone who has supported these acts of kindness along the way. Let’s keep lifting each other. One act at a time

Biker Nairobi

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LASHY BILLS

1,043,331 Aufrufe • vor 6 Monaten

I would only blame myself if someone kept taking food off of my plate and eating it. It’s because I didn’t set clear boundaries at all. To be honest I couldn’t even be mad about this because it would be my fault this even happened. But you know very well I’m going to learn my lesson. She obviously is very comfortable doing this, he doesn’t seem to be firm about not letting her do it, the only one he can be mad at is himself. I think he will think twice about continuing to let her get away with it. Years ago, my brother used to do this to me and when I confronted him he laughed but he never stopped doing it, it got old really quick, I was annoyed because it felt like a bullying tactic. It got to the point one day that i had had enough, I made my plate and I dumped a bunch of salt into it knowing he was going to try to eat my food. After one bite he spit it out and he learned his lesson. He never did it again. But he still got mad I did it. Personally I think he was more mad he got caught if anything. I think a simple solution is to double order, that way if someone eats all my food I still have a back up, that could work right? But a part of me feels like that shouldn’t even be necessary. What would you do if someone kept eating off your plate? Would you put your foot down or just stay silent in hopes they don’t do it again. I think I am going to start just smoking more meat on the grill and keeping that up. I always make so much and if people wanna have some I still have plenty.
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I would only blame myself if someone kept taking food off of my plate and eating it. It’s because I didn’t set clear boundaries at all. To be honest I couldn’t even be mad about this because it would be my fault this even happened. But you know very well I’m going to learn my lesson. She obviously is very comfortable doing this, he doesn’t seem to be firm about not letting her do it, the only one he can be mad at is himself. I think he will think twice about continuing to let her get away with it. Years ago, my brother used to do this to me and when I confronted him he laughed but he never stopped doing it, it got old really quick, I was annoyed because it felt like a bullying tactic. It got to the point one day that i had had enough, I made my plate and I dumped a bunch of salt into it knowing he was going to try to eat my food. After one bite he spit it out and he learned his lesson. He never did it again. But he still got mad I did it. Personally I think he was more mad he got caught if anything. I think a simple solution is to double order, that way if someone eats all my food I still have a back up, that could work right? But a part of me feels like that shouldn’t even be necessary. What would you do if someone kept eating off your plate? Would you put your foot down or just stay silent in hopes they don’t do it again. I think I am going to start just smoking more meat on the grill and keeping that up. I always make so much and if people wanna have some I still have plenty.

SonnyBoy🇺🇸

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🚨Luis de la Fuente on what President Donald Trump said to him while presenting his World Cup gold medal. 🎙️ Reporter: “Luis, there were cameras everywhere when Donald Trump handed you your gold medal. Did he say anything to you?” 🗣️ Luis de la Fuente: “Yes, he did. He congratulated me on winning the World Cup and told me Spain deserved it after the tournament we had. “Then he smiled and joked that maybe he should hire me to coach the United States men’s national team so I could help lead them to their first World Cup trophy. I laughed and thanked him for the compliment. “I told him I was honoured to hear that, but my heart is with Spain. Coaching this national team is one of the greatest privileges of my career, and after becoming world champions, I couldn’t ask for anything more. “It was a nice conversation and a respectful exchange. Moments like these are part of football. You meet people from all over the world who appreciate what your team has achieved. “Of course, hearing someone say they would trust you to lead their country to a World Cup is flattering, but my full focus is on continuing this journey with Spain and building on what we’ve accomplished.”
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🚨Luis de la Fuente on what President Donald Trump said to him while presenting his World Cup gold medal. 🎙️ Reporter: “Luis, there were cameras everywhere when Donald Trump handed you your gold medal. Did he say anything to you?” 🗣️ Luis de la Fuente: “Yes, he did. He congratulated me on winning the World Cup and told me Spain deserved it after the tournament we had. “Then he smiled and joked that maybe he should hire me to coach the United States men’s national team so I could help lead them to their first World Cup trophy. I laughed and thanked him for the compliment. “I told him I was honoured to hear that, but my heart is with Spain. Coaching this national team is one of the greatest privileges of my career, and after becoming world champions, I couldn’t ask for anything more. “It was a nice conversation and a respectful exchange. Moments like these are part of football. You meet people from all over the world who appreciate what your team has achieved. “Of course, hearing someone say they would trust you to lead their country to a World Cup is flattering, but my full focus is on continuing this journey with Spain and building on what we’ve accomplished.”

SethOfficial

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My son’s daily diet is a huge game of trial error but he hasn’t given up on trying new things. This man with ARFID is sharing his food fails as he tries new foods his wife is encouraging him to try. It can be very stressful when trying to make sure they are able to eat, it can be frustrating when it’s fail after fail. The first thing I bribed my kid to try was a goldfish cracker. He wanted a new toy so I came up with the idea that I would give him motivation to eat whole dangling the thing he wants me to buy for him. He wanted some new toy btw but I told him I would buy it if he ate one goldfish cracker. While he still forced himself to eat it I don’t think he likes it because he never asks for it. Many other things he will try and says he likes but refuses to eat more of it, just the one bite. That was how I knew he did not like it. I also learned that just because he didn’t like something didn’t mean he didn’t like that specific item, if I gave him a different version of it he sometimes would eat and like it. For example I make home made Mac n cheese which he won’t eat, but he likes the Kraft Easy Mac cups and can make it himself. He’s not a fan of thick home made burgers but likes McDonald’s cheeseburgers. He will get there eventually, I’m just glad he’s willing to try new things.
1:04

My son’s daily diet is a huge game of trial error but he hasn’t given up on trying new things. This man with ARFID is sharing his food fails as he tries new foods his wife is encouraging him to try. It can be very stressful when trying to make sure they are able to eat, it can be frustrating when it’s fail after fail. The first thing I bribed my kid to try was a goldfish cracker. He wanted a new toy so I came up with the idea that I would give him motivation to eat whole dangling the thing he wants me to buy for him. He wanted some new toy btw but I told him I would buy it if he ate one goldfish cracker. While he still forced himself to eat it I don’t think he likes it because he never asks for it. Many other things he will try and says he likes but refuses to eat more of it, just the one bite. That was how I knew he did not like it. I also learned that just because he didn’t like something didn’t mean he didn’t like that specific item, if I gave him a different version of it he sometimes would eat and like it. For example I make home made Mac n cheese which he won’t eat, but he likes the Kraft Easy Mac cups and can make it himself. He’s not a fan of thick home made burgers but likes McDonald’s cheeseburgers. He will get there eventually, I’m just glad he’s willing to try new things.

SonnyBoy🇺🇸

130,198 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

The Game opens up about surviving getting sh0t five times and spending nearly a month in a coma. He says he was robbed at the dope house at midnight after all the sales had stopped while he was playing Madden. He heard a knock on the door, he opened it to a scrawny kid, two more dudes came behind him and he was fighting for his life. He was sh0t in the chest, stomach, leg, and arm before crawling to the bathroom to call 911. He adds that after he woke up, he had to learn how to walk again and had a realization hit to go to church and change his life. “I was playing madden late night and we had rules in the dope house that after midnight all sales cease. I heard a knock on the door i looked at the time it was like 12:30. Nobody else was in the dope spot but me, when there’s alot of guys in the dope house every knock on the door is the other person turn, till it gets back to you, that how everybody makes even money. I was like what’s one more knock on the door , i looked through the peep hole it was this scrawny little kid that always come, soon as i opened the the door for him to more dudes came behind him and then i was in the fight for my life. It felt like it happened in 20 seconds, i ran immediately to the table to get my g-n, he got to it before me, so we ended up rolling on the ground for what felt like a lifetime. His homie couldn’t sh00t me because we were rolling. So he just fired it, it went through my chest, my stomach, through my leg, and arm. I thought my life was over. I crawled down the hallway to the bathroom, i lifted myself up by my elbows, i pulled my tank top and bl00d splattered. I call 911 myself. Next thing i woke up my aunt was like you’ve been here for a minute. I went to my grandma’s house, i had to learn how to walk again, i said soon as i get out this bed im going to church, change my life”
4:03

The Game opens up about surviving getting sh0t five times and spending nearly a month in a coma. He says he was robbed at the dope house at midnight after all the sales had stopped while he was playing Madden. He heard a knock on the door, he opened it to a scrawny kid, two more dudes came behind him and he was fighting for his life. He was sh0t in the chest, stomach, leg, and arm before crawling to the bathroom to call 911. He adds that after he woke up, he had to learn how to walk again and had a realization hit to go to church and change his life. “I was playing madden late night and we had rules in the dope house that after midnight all sales cease. I heard a knock on the door i looked at the time it was like 12:30. Nobody else was in the dope spot but me, when there’s alot of guys in the dope house every knock on the door is the other person turn, till it gets back to you, that how everybody makes even money. I was like what’s one more knock on the door , i looked through the peep hole it was this scrawny little kid that always come, soon as i opened the the door for him to more dudes came behind him and then i was in the fight for my life. It felt like it happened in 20 seconds, i ran immediately to the table to get my g-n, he got to it before me, so we ended up rolling on the ground for what felt like a lifetime. His homie couldn’t sh00t me because we were rolling. So he just fired it, it went through my chest, my stomach, through my leg, and arm. I thought my life was over. I crawled down the hallway to the bathroom, i lifted myself up by my elbows, i pulled my tank top and bl00d splattered. I call 911 myself. Next thing i woke up my aunt was like you’ve been here for a minute. I went to my grandma’s house, i had to learn how to walk again, i said soon as i get out this bed im going to church, change my life”

Heron

460,867 Aufrufe • vor 28 Tagen

Alan Jackson played his last show last night. He is one of the good ones. A patriot and Christ centered. He has a neurological disease which impedes his balance and ability to play the guitar. He is my favorite country singer of all time. He told stories. He made you not just hear, but FEEL what it is to be a “good ole boy”. He was also never afraid to be bold in his faith. But I have a more personal story about Alan Jackson I’d like to share and it is the reason I have always been a fan of him and his music. Back in 1992, I was going on my first real trip with my mom up to New York to see her sister and my cousins. It was the first time I had ever flown. Our flight left later in the evening, not quite a red-eye, but close. I think it was somewheres around 10 or 11pm. At the time, Charlotte Douglas Airport was way smaller and far less busy than it is now. So me and mom board the plane, and I take the window seat (as kids usually do). Me and mom are chit chatting, and she was doing her best to calm me. See, me and flying don’t really get along. Neither do me and heights - never have, prolly never will. To say I was a bit wound up about the flight would be an understatement. The plane is continuing to board, and there weren’t many folks on the plane. As memory best serves, it was maybe 1/3 full, if that. Everyone is seated, doors are shut, plane is ready to push. Then the pilot comes over the speaker to tell us there would be a slight delay as some folks were making their way to the plane. Door opens up, and 5-6 dudes get on the plane. All wearing stetsons and boots. The 3rd dude on to the plane stood out a little more because he had frills hanging off his coat and he was wearing a white stetson. He was noticeably taller than the rest as well. The first two dudes keep coming down the aisle and end up sitting right behind us. The third dude stops at our row, looks at my mom and me, tips his hat and says “Evenin, folks. How y’all doin?”, then takes the aisle seat right next to my mom. My mom, who rarely ever swore, then says “Holy shit. You’re Alan Jackson”. He says “Yes’m I am, and you are?”. So mom introduced us. But here’s what really sticks with me: Mom had told him I was a bit scared for my first flight. Wanna guess what Alan Jackson did? He asked if it was okay to pray with us. So he did. After which, we spent the entire flight chatting with Alan Jackson. He and his band even belted out a couple songs along the way. It is legit one of those memories I will never forget. I never got to see him to live. But I’d say this experience trumps any concert of his I could have went to. I think something like that speaks more to the man he is than his music. Here he is, just met this kid and his mom 5 minutes prior, and he is offering a prayer to calm my fears for my first flight. So, in closing - I pray Alan can find true peace in his retirement, and I pray that the Father will provide him with healing and assuage his suffering with the disease he has. Thank you for the prayer, Alan Jackson. Thank you for all the wonderful music, and thank you for never being afraid to profess your love for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
4:02

Alan Jackson played his last show last night. He is one of the good ones. A patriot and Christ centered. He has a neurological disease which impedes his balance and ability to play the guitar. He is my favorite country singer of all time. He told stories. He made you not just hear, but FEEL what it is to be a “good ole boy”. He was also never afraid to be bold in his faith. But I have a more personal story about Alan Jackson I’d like to share and it is the reason I have always been a fan of him and his music. Back in 1992, I was going on my first real trip with my mom up to New York to see her sister and my cousins. It was the first time I had ever flown. Our flight left later in the evening, not quite a red-eye, but close. I think it was somewheres around 10 or 11pm. At the time, Charlotte Douglas Airport was way smaller and far less busy than it is now. So me and mom board the plane, and I take the window seat (as kids usually do). Me and mom are chit chatting, and she was doing her best to calm me. See, me and flying don’t really get along. Neither do me and heights - never have, prolly never will. To say I was a bit wound up about the flight would be an understatement. The plane is continuing to board, and there weren’t many folks on the plane. As memory best serves, it was maybe 1/3 full, if that. Everyone is seated, doors are shut, plane is ready to push. Then the pilot comes over the speaker to tell us there would be a slight delay as some folks were making their way to the plane. Door opens up, and 5-6 dudes get on the plane. All wearing stetsons and boots. The 3rd dude on to the plane stood out a little more because he had frills hanging off his coat and he was wearing a white stetson. He was noticeably taller than the rest as well. The first two dudes keep coming down the aisle and end up sitting right behind us. The third dude stops at our row, looks at my mom and me, tips his hat and says “Evenin, folks. How y’all doin?”, then takes the aisle seat right next to my mom. My mom, who rarely ever swore, then says “Holy shit. You’re Alan Jackson”. He says “Yes’m I am, and you are?”. So mom introduced us. But here’s what really sticks with me: Mom had told him I was a bit scared for my first flight. Wanna guess what Alan Jackson did? He asked if it was okay to pray with us. So he did. After which, we spent the entire flight chatting with Alan Jackson. He and his band even belted out a couple songs along the way. It is legit one of those memories I will never forget. I never got to see him to live. But I’d say this experience trumps any concert of his I could have went to. I think something like that speaks more to the man he is than his music. Here he is, just met this kid and his mom 5 minutes prior, and he is offering a prayer to calm my fears for my first flight. So, in closing - I pray Alan can find true peace in his retirement, and I pray that the Father will provide him with healing and assuage his suffering with the disease he has. Thank you for the prayer, Alan Jackson. Thank you for all the wonderful music, and thank you for never being afraid to profess your love for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Paul Fleuret

66,321 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

the story behind mingyu’s “set me free” challenge he really put effort into it and was even disappointed that it wasn’t how he expected it to be 🥹 #민규 🐶 i didn't want to just film the challenge in a hotel. so i even thought about this: when we arrive at the airport, get out of the car, and the reporters and fans are taking photos of us, you know? right after getting out of the car, before crossing the street... i actually thought about filming it then. but i was way too embarrassed to do it 🐶 i wanted to film it somewhere on the streets, but i just couldn't find a nice spot anywhere in paris. so after the show, on the way back to the hotel, i asked them to pull over for a second. they stopped the car by the side of the road, and i just ran and filmed it 🐶 but then another problem came up. turns out it actually takes some practice. trying to listen to the song and go while matching the beat 'dung dung dung dung' was really confusing too. and the bigger problem was that the streets in paris were so noisy. my manager was filming me while playing the song from his phone, but i couldn't hear it at all. that's why you could see me holding his phone. i was listening to the song through that. so i was kind of disappointed. and looking back at it, i should've paid more attention to the little details: i should’ve done it lifting my shirt like this 🐶 it was fun, but i still wish i could've done it better
1:18

the story behind mingyu’s “set me free” challenge he really put effort into it and was even disappointed that it wasn’t how he expected it to be 🥹 #민규 🐶 i didn't want to just film the challenge in a hotel. so i even thought about this: when we arrive at the airport, get out of the car, and the reporters and fans are taking photos of us, you know? right after getting out of the car, before crossing the street... i actually thought about filming it then. but i was way too embarrassed to do it 🐶 i wanted to film it somewhere on the streets, but i just couldn't find a nice spot anywhere in paris. so after the show, on the way back to the hotel, i asked them to pull over for a second. they stopped the car by the side of the road, and i just ran and filmed it 🐶 but then another problem came up. turns out it actually takes some practice. trying to listen to the song and go while matching the beat 'dung dung dung dung' was really confusing too. and the bigger problem was that the streets in paris were so noisy. my manager was filming me while playing the song from his phone, but i couldn't hear it at all. that's why you could see me holding his phone. i was listening to the song through that. so i was kind of disappointed. and looking back at it, i should've paid more attention to the little details: i should’ve done it lifting my shirt like this 🐶 it was fun, but i still wish i could've done it better

minwon 민원

41,845 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

I have a story about addiction from a different perspective. A story where recovery was not possible. I have one sibling. An older brother. Everyone loved him. It was easy to love him. He died 10 years ago. It was a horrible death that took him 20 years to accomplish, dragging everyone who loved him along the way. He was an amazing musician. He didn't read music. No lessons. Hand him any instrument, and he can play it. He had a big heart. He was easily the funniest person I've ever known. And he is the only other human being who speaks fluent movie-script-quotes with precision and skill. But alcohol took over in his mid-20s. Bam Margera is just 2 years younger than my brother. He reminds me of my brother *so* much. Everything Bam and his family went through with his addiction is what my brother and family went through. My brother left high school because he was a gifted songwriter and musician. Bam left because he was a gifted skater. My brother was really into editing and producing films, and so is Bam. When Ryan Dunn died, and Bam went off the deep end, I was watching my brother do the same thing every time a strong emotion hit him, and he simply didn't know what to do with it. My brother was so beautiful on the outside, yet unrecognizable at the end. I can not tell you how many times my brother would go missing. Hundreds of times. He would sometimes go missing for up to a week. Then we'd get a call from the police or a hospital. Usually, the hospital would be first because he'd be near death. Then they would keep him on a 5150 at a mental health facility. Then he would come home. One time, he chased me with a knife in his hand, screaming he was going to kill me as I was running out of my parents' home on a cordless phone dialing 911. I found a fifth of vodka in his room and poured it down the drain. He went looking for it 20 minutes later, and it was empty...and I told him I poured it out. When I was 24 years old, I landed my first job that came with an office. My name was outside of it. I was stoked. I worked my ass off to get there. But there was no happiness at that time in my life. I remember my father calling me at work, sitting in that office, to say he was coming to pick me up because he knew where my brother, who had been missing for 4 days, was. The credit card he stole from my mother showed he was at a little oceanfront motel 10 minutes away. And I remember thinking to myself on the way over there...I have to open the motel room door. I can't let my dad see him hanging. It will destroy his life. I told my dad to wait about 10 feet to my left, and I opened the door, and there was my brother fashioning a sheet into a noose. Another time he went missing, and they found him on the roof of a building with the inside of his arms slashed from elbow to wrist, just lying in a pool of blood. Dark shit. Both of the insides of his arms were mutilated from being sliced open so many times. At least 30, if not more. He stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts in public about 10 years before he died. He got to the point of seizures when he withdrew and had alcohol-related dementia for the last 3 years of his life, which would come and go. Then one day, after 2 decades, he called my parents and said something was wrong. My parents went over to his place, ended up calling 911, the ambulance got there, and he started walking outside with assistance from paramedics and collapsed. In front of my parents. He was rushed to the hospital. I had not seen my brother for the last 9 years of his life. He disowned me. Because he felt he had to. He killed my dog when he got drunk 9 years before he died. No one knows if he meant to or not, he was so wasted. He couldn't face me after that. So he disowned me. And a piece of my heart died the day he did it. I talked to my parents right before they left to see what was wrong that day. The last thing I said to my dad was, "Do not let him die without me having an opportunity to say goodbye." My dad called me from the er 2 hours later and said, "You should come over now. He won't know you're here." When I got there, I was shocked at what I saw. He wasn't the right color. He was in a coma. Severe internal bleeding. On life support. It was jarring even after seeing him in a much similar state hundreds of times for such a long time. He was taken to the ICU 3 hours later, where they would transfuse blood by the bag damn near constantly, and it just shot out of his nose. It was bloody. A lot of blood. After about 6 hours, I told my parents to go home and get some rest. I would stay with him. And I talked to him like he was right there. Like one of the hundreds of pillow-fort slumber parties we had as kids. Like no time had passed, and his addiction never existed. I showed him pictures of my life over the past decade on my phone...just like he was there. But he wasn't there. And after 3 hours and extensive talks with several doctors and specialists, I had to make the decision to remove his life support. After my parents returned and said goodbye, I told them to wait out in the hall until he passed because I could not allow them to have the memory of him dying, and I returned to my brother's side, and said what I needed to say, bawling my heart out. I told them to turn off the machines, and I held him in my arms as he died. It took just over 7 minutes. And I just held him. I had Nine Inch Nails playing for him. One of his favorites thanks to Pretty Hate Machine. He was a fan for life after that. He was my best friend. But he was also someone I had to protect myself from if he was intoxicated. This is the end that usually becomes a reality for addicts and their families. Then there's someone like Bam Margera. He went to the same place my brother went to in his head. And he came back. Bam is one of the greatest comebacks ever and a story of recovery worth knowing. I see YouTube shorts of Bam skating again every day, and I'm so moved that I just sit here and cry. You can see his personality is back. You have no idea how rare that is. Their personality shows very little while they're in their addiction. Recovery stories are incredibly personal to so many people, including those who have gone through addiction with an addict because they love them so much...they'd see anything they had to see and endure anything they have to endure just to be there with them at their lowest point. Addicts are not monsters. The stuff they use to numb the pain they do not understand is the real monster. And when you put enough of that into a human being, they do things they would *never* do without it. People are not pure. We are more complex than that. We are good and bad. Light and dark. Right and wrong. Chaotic and serene. You will find that the answer to every question you have about life is usually "both" for a reason. Because one can not exist without the other. With recovery stories like Hunter Biden's and Bam Margera's out in the ether, more people will be less ignorant as to how this disease plays out, and that will do nothing but good for so many families struggling with this issue. Addiction isn't just for the addict. Addiction is for everyone who loves them, as well. It's just a different perspective of hell. So listen to recovery stories with renewed respect because most addicts end up the way it ended for the only sibling I'll ever have.
2:04

I have a story about addiction from a different perspective. A story where recovery was not possible. I have one sibling. An older brother. Everyone loved him. It was easy to love him. He died 10 years ago. It was a horrible death that took him 20 years to accomplish, dragging everyone who loved him along the way. He was an amazing musician. He didn't read music. No lessons. Hand him any instrument, and he can play it. He had a big heart. He was easily the funniest person I've ever known. And he is the only other human being who speaks fluent movie-script-quotes with precision and skill. But alcohol took over in his mid-20s. Bam Margera is just 2 years younger than my brother. He reminds me of my brother *so* much. Everything Bam and his family went through with his addiction is what my brother and family went through. My brother left high school because he was a gifted songwriter and musician. Bam left because he was a gifted skater. My brother was really into editing and producing films, and so is Bam. When Ryan Dunn died, and Bam went off the deep end, I was watching my brother do the same thing every time a strong emotion hit him, and he simply didn't know what to do with it. My brother was so beautiful on the outside, yet unrecognizable at the end. I can not tell you how many times my brother would go missing. Hundreds of times. He would sometimes go missing for up to a week. Then we'd get a call from the police or a hospital. Usually, the hospital would be first because he'd be near death. Then they would keep him on a 5150 at a mental health facility. Then he would come home. One time, he chased me with a knife in his hand, screaming he was going to kill me as I was running out of my parents' home on a cordless phone dialing 911. I found a fifth of vodka in his room and poured it down the drain. He went looking for it 20 minutes later, and it was empty...and I told him I poured it out. When I was 24 years old, I landed my first job that came with an office. My name was outside of it. I was stoked. I worked my ass off to get there. But there was no happiness at that time in my life. I remember my father calling me at work, sitting in that office, to say he was coming to pick me up because he knew where my brother, who had been missing for 4 days, was. The credit card he stole from my mother showed he was at a little oceanfront motel 10 minutes away. And I remember thinking to myself on the way over there...I have to open the motel room door. I can't let my dad see him hanging. It will destroy his life. I told my dad to wait about 10 feet to my left, and I opened the door, and there was my brother fashioning a sheet into a noose. Another time he went missing, and they found him on the roof of a building with the inside of his arms slashed from elbow to wrist, just lying in a pool of blood. Dark shit. Both of the insides of his arms were mutilated from being sliced open so many times. At least 30, if not more. He stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts in public about 10 years before he died. He got to the point of seizures when he withdrew and had alcohol-related dementia for the last 3 years of his life, which would come and go. Then one day, after 2 decades, he called my parents and said something was wrong. My parents went over to his place, ended up calling 911, the ambulance got there, and he started walking outside with assistance from paramedics and collapsed. In front of my parents. He was rushed to the hospital. I had not seen my brother for the last 9 years of his life. He disowned me. Because he felt he had to. He killed my dog when he got drunk 9 years before he died. No one knows if he meant to or not, he was so wasted. He couldn't face me after that. So he disowned me. And a piece of my heart died the day he did it. I talked to my parents right before they left to see what was wrong that day. The last thing I said to my dad was, "Do not let him die without me having an opportunity to say goodbye." My dad called me from the er 2 hours later and said, "You should come over now. He won't know you're here." When I got there, I was shocked at what I saw. He wasn't the right color. He was in a coma. Severe internal bleeding. On life support. It was jarring even after seeing him in a much similar state hundreds of times for such a long time. He was taken to the ICU 3 hours later, where they would transfuse blood by the bag damn near constantly, and it just shot out of his nose. It was bloody. A lot of blood. After about 6 hours, I told my parents to go home and get some rest. I would stay with him. And I talked to him like he was right there. Like one of the hundreds of pillow-fort slumber parties we had as kids. Like no time had passed, and his addiction never existed. I showed him pictures of my life over the past decade on my phone...just like he was there. But he wasn't there. And after 3 hours and extensive talks with several doctors and specialists, I had to make the decision to remove his life support. After my parents returned and said goodbye, I told them to wait out in the hall until he passed because I could not allow them to have the memory of him dying, and I returned to my brother's side, and said what I needed to say, bawling my heart out. I told them to turn off the machines, and I held him in my arms as he died. It took just over 7 minutes. And I just held him. I had Nine Inch Nails playing for him. One of his favorites thanks to Pretty Hate Machine. He was a fan for life after that. He was my best friend. But he was also someone I had to protect myself from if he was intoxicated. This is the end that usually becomes a reality for addicts and their families. Then there's someone like Bam Margera. He went to the same place my brother went to in his head. And he came back. Bam is one of the greatest comebacks ever and a story of recovery worth knowing. I see YouTube shorts of Bam skating again every day, and I'm so moved that I just sit here and cry. You can see his personality is back. You have no idea how rare that is. Their personality shows very little while they're in their addiction. Recovery stories are incredibly personal to so many people, including those who have gone through addiction with an addict because they love them so much...they'd see anything they had to see and endure anything they have to endure just to be there with them at their lowest point. Addicts are not monsters. The stuff they use to numb the pain they do not understand is the real monster. And when you put enough of that into a human being, they do things they would *never* do without it. People are not pure. We are more complex than that. We are good and bad. Light and dark. Right and wrong. Chaotic and serene. You will find that the answer to every question you have about life is usually "both" for a reason. Because one can not exist without the other. With recovery stories like Hunter Biden's and Bam Margera's out in the ether, more people will be less ignorant as to how this disease plays out, and that will do nothing but good for so many families struggling with this issue. Addiction isn't just for the addict. Addiction is for everyone who loves them, as well. It's just a different perspective of hell. So listen to recovery stories with renewed respect because most addicts end up the way it ended for the only sibling I'll ever have.

Nicole Minét

408,300 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

Pep Guardiola on why Lionel Messi broke down in tears after the final whistle against Spain in the FIFA World Cup final. 🗣️ “The whole world thought Leo was crying because Argentina had lost the World Cup. They were wrong. I know him better than most people. Those tears came from somewhere much deeper. They were the tears of a little boy who realized the dream he had lived for more than twenty years might have ended forever.” “The moment I saw him standing there, I couldn’t watch anymore. I picked up my phone and called him. He answered, but he couldn’t speak. All I could hear was his breathing. We stayed in silence for what felt like forever because sometimes pain is too big for words.” “When he finally spoke, he said, ‘Míster… it’s not the defeat that’s breaking me. I can accept losing. What I can’t accept is that this may have been the last time I ever wore the Argentina shirt. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.’ I completely broke down when I heard those words.” “I told him, ‘Leo, listen to me. Millions of people aren’t crying because Argentina lost. They’re crying because they know they may never see you wear that shirt again. They grew up with you. They celebrated with you. They suffered with you. Tonight, they’re mourning the end of an era.’” “He spent more than two decades carrying that badge with unbelievable pride. He gave Argentina his childhood, his youth, his best football and even the final years of his career. There was nothing left for him to give. He left every piece of his heart on that pitch.” “I said to him, ‘Don’t ever apologize. Don’t ever think you failed your country. The only reason this hurts so much is because you loved Argentina more than anyone could ever ask. That’s not failure that’s the purest form of love.’” “I’ve coached the greatest footballer I’ve ever seen, but that night I wasn’t speaking to a footballer. I was speaking to a man whose heart had been shattered because he believed his final chapter with Argentina had been written. That pain is something no trophy, no speech and no applause can ever heal.” “One day, people will remember who won that World Cup. But those of us who love football will also remember another image forever Lionel Messi standing in tears, not because he stopped loving football, but because football was asking him to say goodbye to the country he loved more than anything in the world.
0:51

Pep Guardiola on why Lionel Messi broke down in tears after the final whistle against Spain in the FIFA World Cup final. 🗣️ “The whole world thought Leo was crying because Argentina had lost the World Cup. They were wrong. I know him better than most people. Those tears came from somewhere much deeper. They were the tears of a little boy who realized the dream he had lived for more than twenty years might have ended forever.” “The moment I saw him standing there, I couldn’t watch anymore. I picked up my phone and called him. He answered, but he couldn’t speak. All I could hear was his breathing. We stayed in silence for what felt like forever because sometimes pain is too big for words.” “When he finally spoke, he said, ‘Míster… it’s not the defeat that’s breaking me. I can accept losing. What I can’t accept is that this may have been the last time I ever wore the Argentina shirt. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.’ I completely broke down when I heard those words.” “I told him, ‘Leo, listen to me. Millions of people aren’t crying because Argentina lost. They’re crying because they know they may never see you wear that shirt again. They grew up with you. They celebrated with you. They suffered with you. Tonight, they’re mourning the end of an era.’” “He spent more than two decades carrying that badge with unbelievable pride. He gave Argentina his childhood, his youth, his best football and even the final years of his career. There was nothing left for him to give. He left every piece of his heart on that pitch.” “I said to him, ‘Don’t ever apologize. Don’t ever think you failed your country. The only reason this hurts so much is because you loved Argentina more than anyone could ever ask. That’s not failure that’s the purest form of love.’” “I’ve coached the greatest footballer I’ve ever seen, but that night I wasn’t speaking to a footballer. I was speaking to a man whose heart had been shattered because he believed his final chapter with Argentina had been written. That pain is something no trophy, no speech and no applause can ever heal.” “One day, people will remember who won that World Cup. But those of us who love football will also remember another image forever Lionel Messi standing in tears, not because he stopped loving football, but because football was asking him to say goodbye to the country he loved more than anything in the world.

‏ْ

899,810 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

ＢＬＡＺＥ ＯＦ ＦＵＲＹ I slam down on the little shrimp with the full, earth-shaking tonnage of my colossal bulk. His puny frame flattens like a stomped roach beneath me, and a vicious snap cuts the air as his lungs cough up a sad, broken yelp. It’s fuckin’ wild how his skinny, fragile build sets my blood ablaze—like a brittle twig trembling beneath my hulking, boulder-like chest, begging to be crushed. My pecs squash him flat, mashing his mug into the mat with skull-shattering might. I smack my cock against the twin curves of his ass and grind it awake along their sculpted swell. My hips pound his dainty backside, even as he squirms, tensing and trying to buck me off. His pathetic fuckin’ resistance melts like butter under my sheer dominance—nothing but a sorry little twitch-fest. My junk roars to life faster than a souped-up dragster. I’m a goddamn bulldozer rolling over this fuckin’ worthless speck. I jerk up a couple inches and smash back down hard. A nasty crack rips from his guts under my brutal hammering, but all he’s got left is a faint gasp as the air ditches him. I drag myself slow, pulverizing him into the mat with every fiber of my strength, and growl in his ear: “Wrestle, runt!” I hoist my bulk up a hair, and the wimp starts thrashing under me. He knows I get off on his flailing fight—I crave those desperate, doomed swings. His mousy muscles got no shot at budging me, but even half-dead, he’s hell-bent on lighting my fuse. His tiny bum rubs my dick like mad, sparking like a match on rough timber. My member’s pulsing, primed to pay him back. Wielding my titanic bulk like a sledgehammer, I unleash a savage pounding on him. My gut slams him down with crushing weight. Every hit’s meaner than the last, sinking him deeper into the mat. His wriggling quits cold, his body caving to my relentless beatdown. The hardest blows grind his bones to dust, but he’s silent now—just ragged breaths forced out by my strikes. Conscious? Who gives a shit. After a dozen ruthless smacks, I flop onto him. His frail frame is scorching from the thrashing I dished out. My gargantuan mass locks him in place—no squirming, no breathing, nada. He’s mine to break, and my sheer heft could snuff him out for good. But I ain’t done—my cock’s howling for more. I peel off him. The shrimp wheezes, clawing for air, fumbling his wrecked shell. I give him a sec to pull it together—the grand finale’s coming. He knows a stiff corpse won’t rev my engine. I hiss in his ear: “Flip over!” Battered to hell, he still spins onto his back like a whipped little shit. He wouldn’t dream of crossing me—fear and heat tangle in his eyes as my monstrous shadow looms. I reward his obedience by slamming down full-force. His chest plate cracks, ribs splinter. My meat smacks his steel-hard cock with a loud thwack. The twisted little freak loves it. I’ve flattened him helpless again, and my shaft drinks in his agony. I grind it against his dick, mashing his lean torso with my thick, beefy bulk. His ribcage buckles as I lean in hard. His feebleness and frailty stoke my sadistic blaze. “Wrestle!” I snarl, easing up an inch to let him fan my flames. He tries to fight back—he knows every twitch stokes my fire. He’s desperate to keep me happy; he’s seen what happens to uppity punks who don’t. He don’t want that smoke. His beat-up, aching husk battles to please me. He’s so goddamn insignificant—my junk’s a live grenade. The big finish is close. I start ramming him for real with my cock, fuckin’ banging him into oblivion. My loins grind into his core with full throttle. Our tools collide, sizzling like live wires. My titan’s bulk pounds and smashes the runt under my brutal girth, raging harder each blow. His flopping fades fast, my crushing hits paralyzing him. He’s got no choice but to bow to my beastly fury. His shell cracks under my onslaught—too flimsy to take it. Bones groan and give, sinking with my blows. He’s gotta be out cold, but his stiffy’s trembling, ready to blow. I dive at him with unhinged rage, ready to tear him apart. His delicate rig shatters for good, bones snapping like brittle straw. My cock erupts like a damn volcano, and his tags along. Our gear’s drenched, dripping with heat. I unload again with feral power, roaring deep from my gut, and collapse, winded, on his smashed-up wreck. Our juices meld through the fabric like molten lava rivers. I sprawl over him, catching my breath. He’s pitifully small and breakable, the little shit. The shrimp’s out, his pretty face calm—miles from the fuckin’ hell he just ate. He nailed his role and served me right. I growl low, a sated beast’s rumble: “Good boy, you little fuck.”
6:27

ＢＬＡＺＥ ＯＦ ＦＵＲＹ I slam down on the little shrimp with the full, earth-shaking tonnage of my colossal bulk. His puny frame flattens like a stomped roach beneath me, and a vicious snap cuts the air as his lungs cough up a sad, broken yelp. It’s fuckin’ wild how his skinny, fragile build sets my blood ablaze—like a brittle twig trembling beneath my hulking, boulder-like chest, begging to be crushed. My pecs squash him flat, mashing his mug into the mat with skull-shattering might. I smack my cock against the twin curves of his ass and grind it awake along their sculpted swell. My hips pound his dainty backside, even as he squirms, tensing and trying to buck me off. His pathetic fuckin’ resistance melts like butter under my sheer dominance—nothing but a sorry little twitch-fest. My junk roars to life faster than a souped-up dragster. I’m a goddamn bulldozer rolling over this fuckin’ worthless speck. I jerk up a couple inches and smash back down hard. A nasty crack rips from his guts under my brutal hammering, but all he’s got left is a faint gasp as the air ditches him. I drag myself slow, pulverizing him into the mat with every fiber of my strength, and growl in his ear: “Wrestle, runt!” I hoist my bulk up a hair, and the wimp starts thrashing under me. He knows I get off on his flailing fight—I crave those desperate, doomed swings. His mousy muscles got no shot at budging me, but even half-dead, he’s hell-bent on lighting my fuse. His tiny bum rubs my dick like mad, sparking like a match on rough timber. My member’s pulsing, primed to pay him back. Wielding my titanic bulk like a sledgehammer, I unleash a savage pounding on him. My gut slams him down with crushing weight. Every hit’s meaner than the last, sinking him deeper into the mat. His wriggling quits cold, his body caving to my relentless beatdown. The hardest blows grind his bones to dust, but he’s silent now—just ragged breaths forced out by my strikes. Conscious? Who gives a shit. After a dozen ruthless smacks, I flop onto him. His frail frame is scorching from the thrashing I dished out. My gargantuan mass locks him in place—no squirming, no breathing, nada. He’s mine to break, and my sheer heft could snuff him out for good. But I ain’t done—my cock’s howling for more. I peel off him. The shrimp wheezes, clawing for air, fumbling his wrecked shell. I give him a sec to pull it together—the grand finale’s coming. He knows a stiff corpse won’t rev my engine. I hiss in his ear: “Flip over!” Battered to hell, he still spins onto his back like a whipped little shit. He wouldn’t dream of crossing me—fear and heat tangle in his eyes as my monstrous shadow looms. I reward his obedience by slamming down full-force. His chest plate cracks, ribs splinter. My meat smacks his steel-hard cock with a loud thwack. The twisted little freak loves it. I’ve flattened him helpless again, and my shaft drinks in his agony. I grind it against his dick, mashing his lean torso with my thick, beefy bulk. His ribcage buckles as I lean in hard. His feebleness and frailty stoke my sadistic blaze. “Wrestle!” I snarl, easing up an inch to let him fan my flames. He tries to fight back—he knows every twitch stokes my fire. He’s desperate to keep me happy; he’s seen what happens to uppity punks who don’t. He don’t want that smoke. His beat-up, aching husk battles to please me. He’s so goddamn insignificant—my junk’s a live grenade. The big finish is close. I start ramming him for real with my cock, fuckin’ banging him into oblivion. My loins grind into his core with full throttle. Our tools collide, sizzling like live wires. My titan’s bulk pounds and smashes the runt under my brutal girth, raging harder each blow. His flopping fades fast, my crushing hits paralyzing him. He’s got no choice but to bow to my beastly fury. His shell cracks under my onslaught—too flimsy to take it. Bones groan and give, sinking with my blows. He’s gotta be out cold, but his stiffy’s trembling, ready to blow. I dive at him with unhinged rage, ready to tear him apart. His delicate rig shatters for good, bones snapping like brittle straw. My cock erupts like a damn volcano, and his tags along. Our gear’s drenched, dripping with heat. I unload again with feral power, roaring deep from my gut, and collapse, winded, on his smashed-up wreck. Our juices meld through the fabric like molten lava rivers. I sprawl over him, catching my breath. He’s pitifully small and breakable, the little shit. The shrimp’s out, his pretty face calm—miles from the fuckin’ hell he just ate. He nailed his role and served me right. I growl low, a sated beast’s rumble: “Good boy, you little fuck.”

No Limits Wrestling 🔞 brutal gay fetish fiction

11,051 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

The “Hacking Myth” Continued, Crazy Chelsea & The Breakup. Killing 3 birds with one stone… Let's think this through once again. If I supposedly had access to all his devices, why didn’t I find out about his mistress ‘ThirstyDM Chelsea’ until June 18? I must be the worst hacker on the planet. Since Aidan is still out here claiming I “hacked his devices” and had access to “all of his accounts,” let’s start with one simple, undeniable fact: I didn’t even know about this trash bag until June 18. If I supposedly had access to his phone, his texts, his iCloud, his entire digital life, don’t you think I would’ve found out a lot sooner? Not just about her, but about the 10ish other women I’ve since discovered he cheated on me with after the breakup? And just to be clear- I’m not here to shame the women he cheated on me with (except Clearance Aisle Chels). They’re not the main ones to blame. But let’s be real. We had a very public relationship. Anyone pursuing him knew exactly what they were doing, and that alone tells you something about the kind of women he gravitates toward. And look at where he’s landed now, right back with the same type, including someone who spent the last year crying grape, sent him to jail, and filed BBO complaints against his attorney. That’s not on me. That’s who he is, and that’s who he chooses. But no, I didn’t know about all of them until much later on. Some, who have come forward in the last week. This alone kills two birds with one stone: It proves Aidan’s “she hacked me!!” fantasy is a lie. It exposes how ridiculous the manic tweets from ghetto Chelsea have been the last 72 hours, the same girl I’ve mostly ignored because she’s so far down the totem pole it’s basically subterranean. Here’s Aidan himself admitting I didn’t know about her until June 18. Right there, her entire “Meredith knew about our texts back in the spring!! She was harassing me!! She copied me!!” storyline collapses into dust. You can’t harass someone you didn’t know existed. I’m mortified that I ever lowered myself for a man who was cheating with women who look like they were assembled out of spare parts at a bus stop. Yes, as I said in the voice recording, I found out about Chelsea on June 18th, and I stayed with him for a little less than a month after that. I’ve never hidden that as embarrassing as it is. Like every other time he got caught, he convinced me it was “just sexting,” that nothing physical happened, and that it only happened during one of our short breaks that usually lasted a day or two. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t right, and I knew I needed to leave, and if you look at the pattern, you’ll see many days where I tried to get out and he blew up my phone, called nonstop, or physically showed up at my apartment after I begged him not to. His narrative is that he ended things in July. Sure, technically he said the words. But let’s be real. Does anyone genuinely think a man who calls 200+ times a day, spirals when he feels abandoned, and refuses to be ignored was ever going to let me walk away cleanly? I let him believe it was his decision because that was the only way I was ever going to get out safely and peacefully. I knew deep down for a long time, this was the only way. I didn’t even talk to him for a month after our break-up. The majority of contact after July was initiated by him, not me. And yes, I’m including a few more screenshots of those call logs, since whatever one-sided fairytale he’s telling on his nightly diary shows is fooling some. These weren’t isolated incidents. This was the pattern throughout our entire relationship. Even in June 2024 and earlier, during the very messages he’s now cherry-picking for his narrative, he was calling me relentlessly, sometimes hundreds of times a day. I didn’t screenshot them back then because I didn’t fully realize how unhinged it was yet. And honestly? I hope every one of his little “side quests” and mistresses takes a long, hard look at these timestamps and compares them to when he was messaging them, telling them we were broken up or “basically done.” Compare notes, ladies. The timeline speaks louder than the lies he fed each of you. Maybe that’s part of why he’s melting down now. Because after Wilbur, we weren’t speaking, and then the recording fallout pulled us back into old patterns of daily conversations about his legal issues, his documentary, and everything else he needed from me. The clip here is just days after I finally blocked him on everything, and he immediately started tweeting at Joe Flipperhead trying to bait me into responding. Same cycle. Same manipulation. I just stepped out of it. Now, back to the device-access lie: The truth hasn’t changed. I saw ONE week of texts on the Apple Watch in January, because a boob pic flashed across the screen. That’s it. If I had actually been in his phone? I would’ve seen the messages from all the women he cheated with, and I would’ve walked. Aidan knows this. He knows the exact day I found out. Yet he’s still lying his ass off about it three nights in a row now. Meanwhile, Chelsea has made her entire Twitter personality about me, tagging me, subtweeting me, creating fan fiction about “harassment,” showing zero proof of anything. In contrast, I posted our full message threads showing she was the one reaching out to me nonstop over the serious crime of a friend request. Honestly, the saddest part is watching an almost 44-year-old man keep repeating these disproven stories while trusting someone this sloppy, contradictory, and wildly unhinged to be his mouthpiece. He must be exhausted. Apparently he’s sunk to talking about my daughter on his show, a 15-year-old child. The irony is almost funny if it weren’t so disgusting. He’s so desperate and so pathetic that he’s now swinging at a teenage girl because he can’t handle a grown woman calling out his lies. And the funniest part? She saw through him from day one. She told me I could do so much better and that there was something “off” about him. Turns out the 15-year-old had more insight, judgment, and emotional intelligence than the almost 44-year-old man melting down on livestream. I could say so much about his own family situation, but I will never go there because I am better than him in every way. Honestly, I feel like I lost myself being with him. I was constantly made smaller, undoubtedly on purpose. so he could stay the center of attention at all times and keep me in the shadows. He constantly reminded me that people only liked me because I was his girlfriend. As I said last night, it’s comical and almost adorable he thinks I’m broken by not being Mrs. Turtleboy. There’s a huge world out there, who doesn’t even know who he is. Looking back now, it’s painfully clear- I made him better, and he made me worse. And for everyone who has criticized me for letting others speak for me, I was just scared. I needed time to find my voice again after being minimized for so long. But lately? Now that I’ve finally come out from under my (turtle) shell? Turns out I wasn’t quiet… I was just buried. PS- Here are my earlier posts debunking the Apple Watch “hack” and the Facebook “hack”. At this point it’s actually wild that we’re on night 3 of this circus and Aidan still hasn’t produced a single shred of proof that I hacked anything. Not one screenshot, not one log, not one receipt. Nothing. He’s just blaming a woman for his bad decisions, his lies, and his poor life choices, because deflecting is easier than taking responsibility.
3:37

Sensitive content

The “Hacking Myth” Continued, Crazy Chelsea & The Breakup. Killing 3 birds with one stone… Let's think this through once again. If I supposedly had access to all his devices, why didn’t I find out about his mistress ‘ThirstyDM Chelsea’ until June 18? I must be the worst hacker on the planet. Since Aidan is still out here claiming I “hacked his devices” and had access to “all of his accounts,” let’s start with one simple, undeniable fact: I didn’t even know about this trash bag until June 18. If I supposedly had access to his phone, his texts, his iCloud, his entire digital life, don’t you think I would’ve found out a lot sooner? Not just about her, but about the 10ish other women I’ve since discovered he cheated on me with after the breakup? And just to be clear- I’m not here to shame the women he cheated on me with (except Clearance Aisle Chels). They’re not the main ones to blame. But let’s be real. We had a very public relationship. Anyone pursuing him knew exactly what they were doing, and that alone tells you something about the kind of women he gravitates toward. And look at where he’s landed now, right back with the same type, including someone who spent the last year crying grape, sent him to jail, and filed BBO complaints against his attorney. That’s not on me. That’s who he is, and that’s who he chooses. But no, I didn’t know about all of them until much later on. Some, who have come forward in the last week. This alone kills two birds with one stone: It proves Aidan’s “she hacked me!!” fantasy is a lie. It exposes how ridiculous the manic tweets from ghetto Chelsea have been the last 72 hours, the same girl I’ve mostly ignored because she’s so far down the totem pole it’s basically subterranean. Here’s Aidan himself admitting I didn’t know about her until June 18. Right there, her entire “Meredith knew about our texts back in the spring!! She was harassing me!! She copied me!!” storyline collapses into dust. You can’t harass someone you didn’t know existed. I’m mortified that I ever lowered myself for a man who was cheating with women who look like they were assembled out of spare parts at a bus stop. Yes, as I said in the voice recording, I found out about Chelsea on June 18th, and I stayed with him for a little less than a month after that. I’ve never hidden that as embarrassing as it is. Like every other time he got caught, he convinced me it was “just sexting,” that nothing physical happened, and that it only happened during one of our short breaks that usually lasted a day or two. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t right, and I knew I needed to leave, and if you look at the pattern, you’ll see many days where I tried to get out and he blew up my phone, called nonstop, or physically showed up at my apartment after I begged him not to. His narrative is that he ended things in July. Sure, technically he said the words. But let’s be real. Does anyone genuinely think a man who calls 200+ times a day, spirals when he feels abandoned, and refuses to be ignored was ever going to let me walk away cleanly? I let him believe it was his decision because that was the only way I was ever going to get out safely and peacefully. I knew deep down for a long time, this was the only way. I didn’t even talk to him for a month after our break-up. The majority of contact after July was initiated by him, not me. And yes, I’m including a few more screenshots of those call logs, since whatever one-sided fairytale he’s telling on his nightly diary shows is fooling some. These weren’t isolated incidents. This was the pattern throughout our entire relationship. Even in June 2024 and earlier, during the very messages he’s now cherry-picking for his narrative, he was calling me relentlessly, sometimes hundreds of times a day. I didn’t screenshot them back then because I didn’t fully realize how unhinged it was yet. And honestly? I hope every one of his little “side quests” and mistresses takes a long, hard look at these timestamps and compares them to when he was messaging them, telling them we were broken up or “basically done.” Compare notes, ladies. The timeline speaks louder than the lies he fed each of you. Maybe that’s part of why he’s melting down now. Because after Wilbur, we weren’t speaking, and then the recording fallout pulled us back into old patterns of daily conversations about his legal issues, his documentary, and everything else he needed from me. The clip here is just days after I finally blocked him on everything, and he immediately started tweeting at Joe Flipperhead trying to bait me into responding. Same cycle. Same manipulation. I just stepped out of it. Now, back to the device-access lie: The truth hasn’t changed. I saw ONE week of texts on the Apple Watch in January, because a boob pic flashed across the screen. That’s it. If I had actually been in his phone? I would’ve seen the messages from all the women he cheated with, and I would’ve walked. Aidan knows this. He knows the exact day I found out. Yet he’s still lying his ass off about it three nights in a row now. Meanwhile, Chelsea has made her entire Twitter personality about me, tagging me, subtweeting me, creating fan fiction about “harassment,” showing zero proof of anything. In contrast, I posted our full message threads showing she was the one reaching out to me nonstop over the serious crime of a friend request. Honestly, the saddest part is watching an almost 44-year-old man keep repeating these disproven stories while trusting someone this sloppy, contradictory, and wildly unhinged to be his mouthpiece. He must be exhausted. Apparently he’s sunk to talking about my daughter on his show, a 15-year-old child. The irony is almost funny if it weren’t so disgusting. He’s so desperate and so pathetic that he’s now swinging at a teenage girl because he can’t handle a grown woman calling out his lies. And the funniest part? She saw through him from day one. She told me I could do so much better and that there was something “off” about him. Turns out the 15-year-old had more insight, judgment, and emotional intelligence than the almost 44-year-old man melting down on livestream. I could say so much about his own family situation, but I will never go there because I am better than him in every way. Honestly, I feel like I lost myself being with him. I was constantly made smaller, undoubtedly on purpose. so he could stay the center of attention at all times and keep me in the shadows. He constantly reminded me that people only liked me because I was his girlfriend. As I said last night, it’s comical and almost adorable he thinks I’m broken by not being Mrs. Turtleboy. There’s a huge world out there, who doesn’t even know who he is. Looking back now, it’s painfully clear- I made him better, and he made me worse. And for everyone who has criticized me for letting others speak for me, I was just scared. I needed time to find my voice again after being minimized for so long. But lately? Now that I’ve finally come out from under my (turtle) shell? Turns out I wasn’t quiet… I was just buried. PS- Here are my earlier posts debunking the Apple Watch “hack” and the Facebook “hack”. At this point it’s actually wild that we’re on night 3 of this circus and Aidan still hasn’t produced a single shred of proof that I hacked anything. Not one screenshot, not one log, not one receipt. Nothing. He’s just blaming a woman for his bad decisions, his lies, and his poor life choices, because deflecting is easier than taking responsibility.

The old M can’t come to the phone right now

38,412 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

I did not know that it was my parrotlet Sokka’s last day today but it was at least a good one. He was on his playstand and playing in his paper bag fort while I was cooking. He doesn’t get fruit often because of the sugar content but I gave him some mango, to which he replied “om nom nom” in his tiny voice. which I taught him to say years ago when eating. I thought about what kind of fruit cake I could make him for his 10th birthday next month. But lucky for him I was also cooking peppers. Pepper seeds are his favorite thing on the planet and though I usually only give him one pepper’s worth today he got two. He was his normal peppy self most of the day. He had had two suspected seizure/stroke episodes starting exactly a year ago and this looked very much like this. They lasted half an hour and then he was back to being his spunky self again. I consulted the vet both times. I gave him a vitamin supplement the vet prescribed that I thought was working well. She did warn me that they could continue but he seemed to be doing well with the vitamins. I was just about to grab dinner down the street when I noticed he was quiet and standing at his food dish but not eating. Thank goodness I noticed so I could be there for him. I called up the emergency vet and let them know we were coming. Then Sokka got to have one last car ride. Sokka loved the car. He was always well behaved and we did many road trips together Including driving from Texas to Connecticut. On our way to the vet Sokka was very weak and fighting to stay conscious and was resting his head against the back of the carrier. But at one point he used all his strength to move to the front of the carrier so he could watch the sunset with me. I kept telling him “you’re a big bird!” and “he’s so cute!” because those are some of his favorite phrases to say, and during previous episodes he would say it back to me as he was recovering. I was half expecting him to fully recover before we got to the vet as he had done the other two times. But this time he wasn’t getting better and I could tell. We got to the vet and she said I did everything right but was not optimistic. Limiting stress is important with birds especially 1oz ones bc it can worsen their condition so she gave me my options for treatment and one of them was humane euthanasia. I held him in my hands and pet him knowing it could be the last time. I selected the option to see if the vet hospital could do anything for him. But shortly after I started driving he passed on the way to the vet hospital. At least he died doing what he loved, going for a ride in the car. I am relieved I did not have to make the most difficult choice to end his life for him, and that he went quickly and peacefully with a full belly of pepper seeds and mango and during one last sunset car ride. Some people will think “it’s just a bird” but those who know me understand how much he meant to me and how intelligent parrots are. Parrotlets are know for being a big personality in a tiny body. I got him a month after I graduated college and he’s been with me nearly 10 years since so basically my whole adult life. He was a big responsibility (that i don’t recommend to ppl without an exotic avian husbandry background) but I didn’t mind and now I feel a hole where those duties and companionship are no longer. If you actually read all or some of this, thank you, it means a lot to me, really. Going to be spending the next weeks just trying to ground myself and not fuck up my mental health again. I’ll share a separate more happy post about my favorite memories when I’m in the mood. For now here’s my favorite video of him even though he’s not speaking in it, and some baby pics from the first day I met him in 2014 in the comments.
0:45

I did not know that it was my parrotlet Sokka’s last day today but it was at least a good one. He was on his playstand and playing in his paper bag fort while I was cooking. He doesn’t get fruit often because of the sugar content but I gave him some mango, to which he replied “om nom nom” in his tiny voice. which I taught him to say years ago when eating. I thought about what kind of fruit cake I could make him for his 10th birthday next month. But lucky for him I was also cooking peppers. Pepper seeds are his favorite thing on the planet and though I usually only give him one pepper’s worth today he got two. He was his normal peppy self most of the day. He had had two suspected seizure/stroke episodes starting exactly a year ago and this looked very much like this. They lasted half an hour and then he was back to being his spunky self again. I consulted the vet both times. I gave him a vitamin supplement the vet prescribed that I thought was working well. She did warn me that they could continue but he seemed to be doing well with the vitamins. I was just about to grab dinner down the street when I noticed he was quiet and standing at his food dish but not eating. Thank goodness I noticed so I could be there for him. I called up the emergency vet and let them know we were coming. Then Sokka got to have one last car ride. Sokka loved the car. He was always well behaved and we did many road trips together Including driving from Texas to Connecticut. On our way to the vet Sokka was very weak and fighting to stay conscious and was resting his head against the back of the carrier. But at one point he used all his strength to move to the front of the carrier so he could watch the sunset with me. I kept telling him “you’re a big bird!” and “he’s so cute!” because those are some of his favorite phrases to say, and during previous episodes he would say it back to me as he was recovering. I was half expecting him to fully recover before we got to the vet as he had done the other two times. But this time he wasn’t getting better and I could tell. We got to the vet and she said I did everything right but was not optimistic. Limiting stress is important with birds especially 1oz ones bc it can worsen their condition so she gave me my options for treatment and one of them was humane euthanasia. I held him in my hands and pet him knowing it could be the last time. I selected the option to see if the vet hospital could do anything for him. But shortly after I started driving he passed on the way to the vet hospital. At least he died doing what he loved, going for a ride in the car. I am relieved I did not have to make the most difficult choice to end his life for him, and that he went quickly and peacefully with a full belly of pepper seeds and mango and during one last sunset car ride. Some people will think “it’s just a bird” but those who know me understand how much he meant to me and how intelligent parrots are. Parrotlets are know for being a big personality in a tiny body. I got him a month after I graduated college and he’s been with me nearly 10 years since so basically my whole adult life. He was a big responsibility (that i don’t recommend to ppl without an exotic avian husbandry background) but I didn’t mind and now I feel a hole where those duties and companionship are no longer. If you actually read all or some of this, thank you, it means a lot to me, really. Going to be spending the next weeks just trying to ground myself and not fuck up my mental health again. I’ll share a separate more happy post about my favorite memories when I’m in the mood. For now here’s my favorite video of him even though he’s not speaking in it, and some baby pics from the first day I met him in 2014 in the comments.

hawkward

65,695 Aufrufe • vor 2 Jahren