Google, LLC is an American multinational technology company that specializes in Internet-related services and products, which include online advertising technologies, a search engine, cloud computing, software, and hardware.It is considered one of the Big Five technology companies in the U.S. information technology industry, alongside Amazon, Facebook, Apple, and Microsoft. And if you think you are having a private discussion where this just happens to have come up, look for the smartphone with the camera running and keep your mouth shut. And, in the privacy of your own head, quietly note that the person piously playing the John Mulaney role is too dangerous to trust and unworthy of your respect. The deep roots of Baker Donelson's Nashville history can be traced to Howard H. Baker beating Lewis Donelson to the punch. When the Heiskell Donelson firm started looking to establish a presence in the state capital, the Baker Worthington firm already had strong Middle Tennessee roots. Ok so if your in my home talking about things that i for one dont know about and dont care to know about but are at the same time putting my honor and integrity at risk with my friends or love ... 8:02 PM CT on 10/23/20 (Crain's New York Business) New York hospitalizations for Covid-19 topped 1,000 for the first time since June, as the state battles clusters of rising cases.Nearly half of ... Today the Firm, which has a presence in the city's Central Business District, as well as in Mandeville, a burgeoning community north of Lake Pontchartrain, and in Baton Rouge, boasts more than 70 top-notch Louisiana attorneys who act as trusted advisors and advocates to businesses and business people. Bradley October 15th, 2011 at 12:42 PM . There are times when I think that this is a possibility and times when it is not. If this is something where the two of you have remained together and do ... Today is a very special day. I'm here to commemorate and acknowledge all of you, the medical school class of 2020. My gosh, you guys, you're wonderful. I mean, come on. Congratulations on your accomplishment, man. I can't think of another group of individuals with a more essential role to play in the world.
2020.10.28 10:45 thirdgenapathy Hidden camera hard sex
When I was 16 I went to a special behavior class due to temperament issues and PTS problems. This was very private to me and a result of ongoing home abuse as well as past abuse from other family, so not exactly public information I advertized. I had a teacher at the time who I will refer to as Ms.S. Ms.S had a huge ego trip and was very two faced. She would scream at anyone who disagreed with her and isolated students she didn't like having them sit alone or in a closet space with a desk. By disagree I mean anyone who didn't do the work perfectly the way she demanded (she taught math and sciences. If Ms.S couldn't follow your work or it wasn't the way the text book did it, even if it was correct or just a different method she tried to fail you or give 0's.)
You could tell when she got the SBH job she assumed she would only be working with disabled kids, but found out later her job was also to manage kids with emotional issues. See, Mrs.S could not for the life of her handle any children in her class who were independent and didn't attribute their success to her in addition to worshipping the ground she walked on. She was also very religious. My private issues set aside I had perfect grades and was friends with most people in my class. I rarely argued with anyone and kept to myself.
I'm naturally able to absorb massive amounts of information at a glance and remember it for long periods of time, so I blew through most of my work easily enough. Ms.S could not stand that I completed my work immediately and usually read for the remainder of her class, she was the "hand out work after a short lesson" type of teacher, so your work only lasted through the homework and classwork she gave you after her lesson. She had some issue with me reading when I was done. Her excuse was that other kids would read during class if I did, which was BS because she let everyone but me read when they were done. I was only allowed to read when everyone else was done, sometimes not even then. Other kids were allowed to read even if others were done, I was singled out. Some days she just kept my book even after class ended. So I started refusing to give her my book.
It started started an all out war. She on several occasions ripped my book right out my hand as I walked into the class or took it off my desk even when I wasn't reading. Literally snatched it out of my text book stack as I was walking even if I was using it to brace my grip, causing me to drop my books a few times.
In addition to this she would regularly shame me in class even though I was the highest scoring student there, always for simply disagreeing with her on how I did my math work (I always got the correct answer, she just didn't like my method.). Instead of attacking my academics she attacked me personally (mind you this was always in front of other students in my class in an attempt to humiliate me). This included comments about my relationships with others or my family.
She also did everything in her power to sabotage my transition back into mainstream classes. Needless to say I ended up bringing decoy books, backup books, leaving something gross in her desk once (I left a square of soft cheese in her desk before easter break that evolved into it's own ecosystem by the time we returned).
I decided that even if I get kicked from that school or class, she has to come to work to afford to live. Not only that, but I had filed complaints against her with the school board, so we kept having reps sit in on our classes to monitor her (naturally she started hiding her behavior and only acting horrible when they weren't there). So in my mind, she was not only at a disadvantage, she couldn't get away from me without showing weakness and turning the whole class against her (a lot of emotional issue kids with issues with authority). I also wasn't the only student she picked on, she was only ever nice to the developmentally disabled kids. I had seen her reduce classmates to sobbing or egged them on until they physically left the school so she could call the truancy officer. But she always made sure to tout her "I'm a GOOD christian" persona when her bosses or parents came to speak with her.
So I went on the attack. Around this time I was re-entering another group home so I decided I would simply openly defy her on anything I considered unreasonable because there was a camera present and she would have to provide proof and anything on her part that was not on the straight and narrow would definitely become an issue for my group home caseworker and the houseparents who handled my schooling (they were good people and changed my life a lot, including confronting her a few times before events came to a head).
About two months into my second year with her all hell broke loose and she lost. her. mind...literally. I came into class with my books as typical and she removed one from me as I came in. Now this was a day with no work because it was the end of a large assignment, at this point she was being a bitch for the sake of it since there was no real work to be done, just grading and presentation. The presentations were divided because my class of twelve was separated into learning levels. Since my group was last and none of the groups really interacted academically I decided to read while my friends spoke and the other learning level groups did their presentations.
So I sat down and started reading.. my backup book. She asked me to put it down and I said I would if she said anything worth listening to (this was after a year and a half of her humiliating and screaming at me, so I had lost all respect for her). Naturally she took my second book so out came my ACTUAL book. She fing lost it. She stared at me for maybe 5 minutes before she came for it. Only I was always much stronger than her and this book was hardcover, so I held on. She started dragging me and my desk around the room (wont lie, yelled yeehaw once to egg her on).
Eventually when she threw her entire weight into the pull & I let go and watched her fly away. Anyway when she stood up she started screaming about how my mother and grandmother hated me and this was why I was given up for adoption, abandoned in hospitals and group homes, because I was broken and nobody liked me (the end part was an indirect anti-gay comment).
Edit: since people don't seem to absorb this, the abuse that created a rift between my grandmother and I was enmeshed sex abuse that was hidden by her. My mother suffered the same thing and became a full blown drug addict who robbed my sister at gunpoint for crack money.
Now, this was too far for me and I knew entirely illegal. But I decided I didnt want her fired, I wanted to humiliate her the way she had done me for the last year and a half. What she didn't know was that I had a laptop and had snooped on her after reaching my wits end with the constant harassment, I was suicidal at the time and had finally just decided to fight back because the other option was death (this was in the days where teachers had myspace and didnt realize students could access it). She had no idea I could come back at her because this whole time even though I was fighting back, I wanted to not be my absolute worst self and avoided verbal confrontation where I could because I knew I would say awful things.
The whole class was watching and most were just shocked. So I hit her back with "so how does a racist, frankenstein looking b**ch like you date a hot black dude? Oh, you don't, that probably why he's fing your sister now. Understandable, probably hard for him to date someone he's too scared to ride in a car with. Maybe you could win him back with a banjo solo using your mouth bands". Offensive and over the top? Absolutely. But so is a 40 year old woman weaponizing things a suicidal 16-17 yo divulged in therapy in front of a class with emotional issues who will definitely try to bully him. That tidbit of her private life wasn't all. I gave everyone in all her classes her internet information and contact info. (remember I wasn't her only victim)
For the next two days we had a sub while Ms.S hid in the main office (it was attached to our classroom with a window) and setup a lesson plan for the rest of the year and then took a medical leave for mental health, admitting herself for the next 3 months. I found out the medical stuff from snooping her sister's myspace account. She deleted her own. The rest of that year was great. We got a substitute who was nicer than ms.S, didn't harass us and I started mainsteaming and moved into a better teachers class the following year. She came back for the last month of school and entirely avoided the class, leaving everything to the aide.
Edit: since some of the audience couldn't infer from my implied statements I clarified a lot in the post, reformatted it and further explained the situation.
submitted by thirdgenapathy to ProRevenge [link] [comments]
2020.10.27 12:17 wttss_mydearflw3r Sex hard camera hidden
Please forgive if any of this is confusing, this is my first post.
I (20f) was in the foster system from age 15-18. My foster sister and I lived in my foster mothers basement. It was sort of converted into a teeny tiny apartment. We lived off of microwave hotdogs, bologna and hotpockets for 2 years straight, and were basically told good luck. Growing up my older brother (25) had a best friend(25m) who had an older brother(28)
When I went into the system I had little to no support from my family or friends. I have two addict parents. Going into the foster system I was alone, weak, and seriously vulnerable. Let's call my brothers best friend's older brother "M."
M watched me grow up from age 6 until we really became acquainted when I was 16. When I was 15 I temporarily lived with his mom, she was my temporary foster parent. I maybe only saw him once or twice in that time. She was deemed unfit to care for me so into the real system I went. M reached out to me then, concerned for my situation. We were friends for a few weeks, he'd buy me cigarettes, provide me with alcohol, rides to see my friends and other things. We became romantic pretty fast. He took care of me. When I had nobody he took care of me. I was 16 and he was 24. 2 months into our relationship things started to change, he was super overprotective, when we'd play fight he'd pinch me or grab me too hard, and I noticed it was almost fun for him. M was with his ex girlfriend(26) for 5 years. I once saw her pop up on his phone, he swiped out of it and i didnt ask. I should've ran then. I became insecure and searched her social media, became addicted to checking them constantly. I realized she was 6 months pregnant, and according to Facebook they had gone on a date 6 months prior. I asked him if there's any possibility that the baby was his, he swore there was no way.
3 months in I began to pick up on more stuff, he was really verbally aggressive and secretive and refused to touch me. I questioned him and he admitted that ex girlfriend had shown up at his house and admitted the baby was his. He came to my house and cried in my arms, terrified to be a father. I coddled him and told him id be there every step of the way. And I was. A few weeks later he admitted to having sex with her when she showed up 6 months pregnant at his house. I stayed. Eventually his son was born, they had shared custody. When M had his son, I raised him. He took his first steps to me, I was the one who heard his first words. I loved that little boy. As the first year continued on, M only became more possessive and abusive. I cooked, I cleaned and I took care of his baby, when I didnt have to be in school. I wasn't allowed to get a job, I couldn't hang out with friends without being made to feel guilty, he kept me away from my family. It just got worse and worse. I really did love M, for those first three months. The next year and 5 months after that I was in survival mode. He sexually abused me almost daily. I cried through sex almost every day. I felt like a ragdoll. Like I was worthless. M and his brother had serious OCD, so I cleaned, cooked, and made sure nothing was ever out of place. M once beat on me and screamed at me for 3 hours straight in front of a party full of people, so many people who knew me. That was the worst night of my life. Nobody helped me. Nobody. Since that day none of those people have ever been able to look me in the eye. My own brother was there. He swears that he was too drunk and that he didn't wake up, but I was with him all night and he had two beers. My own brother was too afraid to stick up for me. I was so alone. I still feel alone now. Right before my 18th birthday I got pregnant. M did it on purpose. He laughed after. Sometimes I'd look at him and there was no soul. Hed buy me a ring every time he hit me a little too hard. Or a new camera, he bought me a desktop computer. Nothing behind his eyes at all. There was one time M made me pack my stuff and told me he was taking me home and we were over. I packed my things and once we got in the car we sat in silence for an hour, he then told me that he had a grape sized tumor on the frontal lobe of his brain, and thats why he treats me the way he does. He told me he had 2 years left to live and that id have to be there for his son. 3 months later when we were drinking he got agressive like usual, i had a friend over and we were hanging out with his brother. M goes upstairs and keeps calling me to go up there. His brother keeps saying to stay downstairs (only because my friend was there. He saw his brother put his hands on me multiple times and never did a damn thing.) I went up anyway because I didn't have a choice. Being tipsy i asked him if he'd lied. If he made up the tumor to trap me and he admitted he did. I cried to friends and teachers at school for three months thinking he was gonna die and i had to be responsible for taking care of him and his son. I was fucking 17 years old. There hasn't ever been or will ever be anyone who scares me as much as he does. I refused to keep the baby, I couldn't bare to birth his baby, so he could abuse us both. Shortly after 18 I got an abortion, and a month after he threatened to beat me to death with an alarm clock. He never threatened to kill me before that day. I threw my hands up in the air and screamed at him as loud as I could that I was done. I said that I cant, and that there was no hope for him. That he was a monster. He told me I turned him into that monster and that he never ever put his hands on his ex of 5 years. When he realized how serious I was, he stopped in his tracks and asked how he could fix it. He begged and begged for me to let him fix it. I lived with him for a month after that, left him and moved into this place where my biological mom was living. Leaving him was the best thing I ever did. I met my current fiance 3 months after that.
Fast forward to now. I am 20 now, I've been with S for a little over 2 years. Hes my best friend. I love him with everything I have in me. He takes care of my soul, the best he can anyway. We have a beautiful, happy, smart 9 month old daughter. Shes the reason im still alive.
When I cant sleep at night I still feel M's hands on my skin. I can smell his breath in my dreams and hear his insults in my head whenever my depression is cutting me deep. I cant have sex with the man who deserves it. S loves me and he protects me and every time I think maybe I can be normal and make love to my own fiance I feel M on top of me and the tears start to flow and I shut down completely. I've even hidden the tears a few times and just let it happen because in the moment it isn't S, It's M. And I didnt get to say no to M. S asks me throughout the whole thing if im okay. I try to lie most the time. S can usually tell. It's been over two years since I even saw M but when S and I drive by his house on our way to wherever I still can't breathe. I hate M. I hate him with all my being. I hate him for taking me away from myself and for turning me into this weak person I don't recognize in the mirror. I cant escape.
submitted by wttss_mydearflw3r to offmychest [link] [comments]
2020.10.20 00:35 jillloyo Hidden camera hard sex
Thanks for checking out my sale! I'm trying hard for a low-buy and really trying to cut down on my back-ups + products that just didn't work for me. I added a bunch of new stuff this week & there will be lots more to come!
2020.10.14 01:48 PunkyxBrewsterr Hidden camera hard sex
I'm not really sure if this is the place for this but I'm down lately and could use advice, encouragement, reassurance, or whatever. I feel that I have tried to put in an effort to unlearn a lot of toxic habits, but that I'm really not improving, and that I will most likely be alone for an extremely long time.
I'm a 28F, I live alone and I work a full time job that was unessential from Feb-August. I struggle with clinical depression and it makes it very hard to meet new people unless it's online. Because of this I have used OLD and social media as my dating outlet for about a decade. My experience with these is that absolutely none of the people are compatible with me, most of them aren't incredibly direct or honest about what they want, and the format of it makes me feel like I'm treating selecting potential partners like I am selecting some bananas at the grocery store.
I always felt like "the starter girlfriend." I'm kind of chronically single, so I end up casually dating guys who don't seem to actually like me, but I'm super eagar and fall for people quickly. They see me as good enough to be a boredom cure for a month or two. It's never anything serious. It always ends in a situation where I'm bummed for a long time and they seem to move on and are very happy with new relationships.
I am a pain digger as well, so I will indulge in unhealthy habits like checking their social media constantly on purpose. A lot of my friends will try to reassure me that "most people do that" but I'm 99% sure that if they knew the embarrassing extremes that I go to with it they would not be saying that.
I was seeing someone for a few months in the winter that I thought might have potential but he cut it off at the start of quarantine. Safe to say being heartbroken, unemployed, in a pandemic, living alone in my shitty apartment, for 4 months, I was not making healthy decisions for my already not good mental health. I would watch TV or scroll my phone for 12-16 hours a day. I was sleeping on my couch instead of the bed because it made me sad to be in it alone. I couldn't focus on books or any of the things I enjoy. I was eating takeout every day or not eating because I had no energy. I was cyber stalking him on every platform- twitch, twitter, Facebook, Linkedin, Instagram, multiple times a day.
I tried to move on since my ex clearly was. I made a Hinge profile and I talked to a bunch of guys on there who both were emotionally unavailable and not really compatible with me. Still let my hormones dictate what I did and hooked up with them multiple times. Still got upset when they sent me the classic "we can still be friends" text, or never got a text at all.
At some point in August, even though I have had 10 years to do this, I realized this behavior is pointless and unproductive and honestly just a really huge violation of other peoples' privacy and a million of other things, so I made an effort to stop. I removed all the autofills on my phone to avoid looking at my ex's profiles. I looked through all the photos I had in my camera roll, deleting any old pics or screen shots that were hidden in there in case I stumbled upon them on accident and got sad. I deleted Hinge. I deleted my r4r posts. I blocked the phone numbers of the guys I had talked to on there who ghosted me. I made a deal with myself to stop posting on my NSFW account for 30 days so that I wasn't letting my judgement be clouded by my sex drive. I did nice things for myself. Dyed my hair purple, started getting acrylic nails again, our gyms just opened so I started lifting again. I started working a 6th day of the week so that I'd have less time to sit at home and burrito. I told myself that I would no longer settle for anything but a hell yeah, and that I'd think start setting clear boundaries.
This past week I have been down and it seems like I just self destructed almost. I pulled up all the social medias (I also accidentially liked a photo in the process 🥴) I made booty call plans with someone I was talking to online, even though he told me blatantly that he wasn't pursuing a relationship. I got scared and backed out last minute but the excitement of "ooooh a new person to flirt with" still lingered which I know is not good because it means I'm more willing to not uphold my own boundaries if we talk again.
It's like a month of progress just out the window and it makes me question if I made progress at all. I see all these people around me who love being single and are carefree about it- they have these great careers and tons of friends to occupy their time and they seem very fufilled. I just feel like I literally will be struggling with feeling not good enough to be loved for my entire life, and that I will carry codependency issues into any relationship I try to get into which will ruin it anyway.
submitted by PunkyxBrewsterr to Codependency [link] [comments]
2020.10.13 18:44 Grandfeatherix Hidden camera hard sex
NAME/TITLE: Jean Du Chance AKA/CODE NAME: Many aliases AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 38 SEX: Male SIZE: 6'1" 245 lbs ID MARKS: none, only fake marks to alter identity ID CHARACTERISTICS: none, works to always change characteristics EYES: Brown naturally (will change to suit new identity) HAIR: Brown naturally (will change to suit new identity) FAMILY ORIGIN: Human ETHNIC ORIGIN: French Canadian (white) LIVING ENVIRONMENT: While on the road he lives mainly on the truck, Also has a large house in the Montreal area (FQ will pay expenses for any temporary housing needed as cover) PERSONAL RESOURCES/INCOME: 715,119cr in savings, 5,000cr per month as an agent, 40,000cr per quarter from his shipping company INFLUENCE: High among fans, average with others RIVALS: Players from when he played hockey, other shipping companies now ALLIES: Former team members in general OCCUPATION/RANK: Le Surete du Quebec (intelligence agent) REPUTATION: A hard hitting, but fair player, modest and pragmatic in retirement, a reasonable shipping company for costs, and a good boss to work for. DISPOSITION: Friendly and cheerful when dealing with fans (often played up when trying to get information) SENTIMENTS TOWARDS FREE QUEBEC: Admires, and will do whatever he can to ensure that Free Quebec stays a strong and free nation SENTIMENTS TOWARDS COALITION: Wary, sees pros and cons with them, and feels they have too much say over what Free Quebec does. PHYSICAL ABNORMALITIES: none PSYCHOLOGICAL ABNORMALITIES: Bio-system lungs (replaced due to lung cancer) dental implants to replace teeth lost due to sports injuries. HABITS: Smoking HOBBIES: Hockey LIKES: Playing hockey, driving DISLIKES: Being in one place for too long FEARS: Being found out WEAPON OF CHOICE: Stiletto Knife TRANSPORTATION OF CHOICE: Modified Semi Truck INGENUITY/QUICK THINKING: Above average, mostly plans things out extensively, but can adapt to change quickly QUOTES: "Keep your stick on the ice" KARMA: Fair- Good APPEARANCE: A stocky and still very well built man for his age, his natural hair colour is starting to grey, and his sharp features are starting to soften, but with the use of prosthetics or short intense workouts, or binges his looks can fluctuate for his cover as needed. Often wears coyboy boots with spurs and buckles (and a hidden boot knife which is harder to detect with the other metal)
IQ: 10 ME: 11 MA: 17 PS: 19 (max carry 380 lbs, max lift 760 lbs) PP: 9 PE: 17 (max carry duration 68 min, max lift 4 min 15 sec, sprint 17 min) PB: 13 SPD: 18 12mph running (48mph on skates)
HP: 45 SDC: 29
PPE: 4 Level: 6
Special Attacks/Skills: Karate-style Kick: 1d8 Jump Kick: 4d10 but is the only attack allowed the melee it is used Critical Strike on Natural 18+ Roundhouse Kick: 3d6 Axe Kick: 2d8 Knee Strike: 1d8 Entangle (-1 on ice) Maintain Balance: +2 Body Block: 1d4 opponent must doge/parry or be knocked down and lose 1 action (+ 1 on ice) +2 survive crash -2 to shoot from moving vehicle can make aimed shots from moving vehicles at -2 to strike Vehicular attacks and evasion penalty reduced by half Trust/Intimidate 45%
Attacks Per Melee: 3
Initiative: Save Vs Magic: +1 Doge: +3 (+1 on ice) +2 driving Save Vs Psionics: 14+ Parry: +3 (-1 on ice) Save Vs Horror Factor: +3 Pull Punch: +7 Save Vs Mind Control: +1 Roll With Punch/Fall/Impact: +8 Save Vs Illusion: +1 Disarm: +2 (-1 on ice) Save vs Lethal Poison: 13+ Damage: +5 Save Vs Non-Lethal Poison: 15+ Strike: +2 (-1 on ice) Save Vs Coma/Death: +5%
OCC Skills: Language: English: 95% +1 per Language: French: 95% +1 per Literacy: English: 90% +5 per Literacy: French: 90% +5 per Math: Basic: 95% +5 per Radio: Basic: 95% +5 per Radio: Scrambler: 80% +5 per Surveillance Systems: 75% +5 per Cryptography: 70% +5 per Disguise: 75% +5 per Escape Artist: 70% +5 per Find Contraband: 62% +4 per Intelligence: 72% +4 per Land Navigation: 66% +4 per Camouflage: 48% +5 per Seduction: 30% +3 per Pilot: Hover-cycle: 95% +4 per Pilot: Truck: 81% +5 per W.P. Energy Rifle aimed +3, burst +1, wild +0 W.P. Knife strike +0, parry +0, thrown strike +1 Hand-To-Hand: Martial Arts ( X )
OCC Related Skills: (skill used to upgrade Hand-To-Hand) (skill used to upgrade Hand-To-Hand) (skill used to upgrade Hand-To-Hand) Pro Hockey Skating (special) ( X ) W.P. Staff/Hockey Stick strike +1, parry +0, thrown strike +0 (+1 on ice) Detect Ambush: 55% +5 per Roadwise: 28% +4 per
Secondary Skills: Kick Boxing: (special) ( X ) Combat Driving (special) ( X ) Ice Skating (special): 80% +5 per ( X ) Computer Operation: 70% +5 per
Equipment: On Person: -Cowboy boots size 12 (hidden boot knife triggered by pressing the heel +6 on a front kick) -Credstick (personal) 624cr shirt pocket - 1 Signal Flair right side pants pocket - 1 Survival Knife clipped to right side belt (1d6 damage) - 1 Stiletto Knife clipped on the inside of the left boot (Stiletto triggers with a button press to pop out the knife with compressed gas 3d6, but must be reset and filled between uses, as a normal stabbing weapon 1d6) - 1 Language Translator (shirt pocket) - Camel Pack 2L of water, worn as a vest 12 A.R. 20 M.D.C. - 1 Compass with signaling mirror left pants pocket - 2 Packs Cigarettes (one normally half gone) 1 in left pants pocket, 1 in shirt pocket) - 1 Windproof Electric lighter clipped on left side belt (hidden switch turns this into a taser does no damage, stun effect on strike -6 to strike, parry, dodge for 1D6 melee adds 1d6 duration for each strike, save vs non-lethal poison reduces stun penalties by half, a fail save means a 30% chance to be knocked unconscious for 2d4 melee -NG-IP7 Ion Pulse Rifle carried on a strap over the back 7lbs 1600 range 3d6 MD per shot 1d4 x 10MD for triple pulse 30 single shots per e-clip pair - 2 spare e-clips on the rifle strap - Handheld computer in a pocket on the camel pack - Championship ring from his first championship left hand index finger (value 20,000cr) - Championship ring from his last championship right hand index finger (hidden camera 112 picture capacity value reduced to 12000cr) - Polarized Sunglasses
On Truck: - Clutter the floor and passenger side seat are covered with an assortment of food wrappers and take out bags (3 - 6 take out bags, with 2-3 food wrappers from each on the floor, 1 empty cup from each place) - Credstick (registered under company name) 6000cr taped to the top of the glove compartment - NG-H5 Holdout Ion pistol in half empty cup in the cup holder 1D4+1MD range 200' 6 shot capacity - 2 NG-H5 mini eclips in the furthest empty cup on the passenger side floor - 2 lb tobacco glove compartment - 5 packs rolling papers (100 sheets each) glove compartment - 2 packs cigarettes glove compartment - 2 Hockey sticks in the window of the sleeping bunk above the cab - 1 pair size 12 ice skates extended cab section - 1 pair size 12 roller blades extended cab section - 1 hockey helmet (- 3 on aimed shots to the head 12 MDC) - 2 pair pants, 3 shirts, hockey jersey, 1 hockey helmet (- 3 on aimed shots to the head 12 MDC), hockey armor (full suit AR 17 20 MDC) 3 pucks, 6 balls, all in a hockey bag in the extended cab section - 1 sleeping bag 2 thermal blankets, thermos, canteen, 12 water purification tablets (tablet #8 is actually high dose cyanide, diluted in 4L water 200ml is fatal), portable radio 10 mile range, gas powered stove 3hrs per canister, 1 spare stove canister, electric lantern 10 hours per cell, 3 spare cells, 10" frying pan, 2L capacity pot, compass with signaling mirror (spare), 1 metal ladle, 2 forks, 2 knives, 2 spoons, 50' rope, 3 signal flairs, one man tent (tent can be made air tight), 2 solar powered flashlights (8 hrs of charging gives 4 hrs use) all in a second hockey bag in the extended cab section
Background/History: While he was a rising star in the amateur hockey leagues Jean was approached to serve the state of Free Quebec and he accepted with pride. Jean would train in the off season to learn all the skills he would need to be a deep cover agent, and during the sporting season would use the games he played as cover for his travels. Being a remarkable player he was often invited to sensitive areas to dine with, or attending parties by influential people of many governments. Jeans fame could also be used to gain entry to sensitive areas by playing up on his fame, and the assumed unlikelihood a celebrity would be a spy.
Now as a semi retired retired pro athlete he often maintains that he runs a small freight transport company that he bought with his retirement savings, and drives a truck himself, he often maintains this cover, while still playing exhibition games, or attending fundraisers and events still held by influential people, although he now often has to assume other identities to infiltrate undetected to continue his role of Intel gathering.
submitted by Grandfeatherix to NPC_Bank [link] [comments]
2020.10.08 12:10 Kiriima Sex camera hidden hard
The Great Ordeal: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Alpha Experience Prepared with permission and support from Owlcat Games
This material is based on the 0.4.0 - 0.4.2a version of the game, available to those who supported the Owlcat Games project during the crowdfunding campaign in March-February of this year.
At the request of the studio representatives - and the common sense of the author himself - spoilers in the review were kept to a minimum. However, the reader should keep in mind that in order to demonstrate the changes in atmosphere and narrative, I will touch on the lore of the setting, the stories of some of the characters, the backstory, and the prologue of an unreleased game. This review also presents screenshots of dialogues that are not important for the main plot.
Just in case, I remind you that the project is at the early stage of production, which is why many of the elements described in the article are only a framework for future mechanics and not their final embodiment.
Taking this opportunity, I express my gratitude to the Owlcat Games studio, as well as the administration of their official VK-group for their help in preparing this work.
Now let's get started.
Introduction. Battle for the Abyss. A big fall always starts with one small step.
Three pillars of evil from the Outer Planes: neutral daimon, law-abiding devil and chaotic demon.
The ancient lands of Sarcoris were drowned in fire and blood when Areelu Vorlesh, a scientist convicted of practicing forbidden sorcery, opened a portal to the most terrifying corner of the universe. Countless hordes of demons, led by the monstrous Baphomet and Deskari, poured into Golarion, tearing apart those who dared to resist them and poisoning the very essence of the material plane with the evil and chaos of the Abyss that gave birth to them. Where the half-wild Sarcoris once lay, now the body of Golarion is disfigured by the enormous Worldwound.
However, in the days of great disasters, it becomes ordinary to unite before the face of a common threat. The neighboring countries of Sarcoris chose not to wait for a repeat of his fate. Led by the church of the goddess Iomedae, hundreds of thousands of soldiers from all over the world have come together to fight the greatest threat to the world since the day of the Earthfall and drive the demons back into their realm of destruction and vice.
So the First Crusade began!
And the Second followed it...
And the Third...
And the Fourth...
A hundred years have passed since the discovery of the Worlwound, and every day the chances that this nightmare will end in victory are sinking deeper into darkness. Only the World Stones - divine obelisks that prevent the Worldwound from growing - give mortals an elusive hope that the threat will at least be contained.
But the Stone is a stone. It is washed out with water and crumbles from strong blows. And what crumbles can be broken.
The story of Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous begins on the day when a band of demons and cultists personally led by Lord Deskari make a surprise attack on Kenabres and severely damage one of the World Stones.
Deskari, Lord of the Locust, and Herald of the Apocalypse.
Many defenders perish, demon-worshipping spies plunge Kenabres into chaos and anarchy, and the blow of the scythe of Deskari, which killed the heroic dragon Terendelev, splits the city to deep caves, where the descendants of the first crusaders, distorted by the Abyss, hide from light and human eyes.
And it is there the future commander of the Fifth Crusade finds incredible strength.
Chapter one. Crusade of children. https://preview.redd.it/6skab2ee1vr51.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6339b8039032aaf6996a202b20ea59cc317d87bd
When it comes to Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, it's impossible not to compare it to Owlcat' first game. Pathfinder: Kingmaker at one time extremely disappointed the audience with a poor state at the time of release, but over time it still managed to earn well-deserved love and recognition.
This was largely due to the developers' sincere love for the original and their offspring, as well as the incredible hard work with which they were fixing bugs for a long time and adding more and more content to the game due to paid and free updates. When their work was completed, Kingmaker was regarded by some as one of the best CRPGs ever made.
When the sequel's Kickstarter campaign was announced, money poured into Owlcat Games, making Wrath of the Righteous the most successful project on the site in the Russian market segment.
I, like a number of others who supported the project, got access to the alpha testing of the game and now I hurry to share with you what Owlcat plans to please players with in 2021.
First, let's talk about the changes in the basic gameplay, and then move on to the most important innovations.
\Scene of battle, beware old interface])
The first thing that catches your eye is the correction of the mistakes of the first part.
Kingmaker, aside from bugs, was heavily criticized for three kind of things: poor graphics, harsh ruthlessness towards newcomers, and too high defenses of enemies, which led to the notorious "miss-miss-miss-miss".
These moments were more or less corrected and ironed out in the sequel.
The graphics have been significantly improved in comparison to the first game. Characters, weapons, and armor have noticeably increased in detail, and although their level (partly due to the peculiarities of the art design and budget) is inferior to the second Pillars of Eternity and Divinity: Original Sin 2, the new models of heroes in the inventory window look relatively passable and quite capable to please the eye.
\New inventory interface])
Another thing is a smart tutorial, which describes in great detail the basic game mechanics and is able to accompany the player throughout the entire game if they so wish. Owlcat is still working on this feature, promising even a character builds planning help, but this is a question for future versions, as for now let's move on.
The problem of constant misses, at first glance, was also solved. I passed alpha in equal proportions on "easy" and "normal", switching to higher gears a couple of times. Apart from those latter times, only once I came across a mini-boss with extremely high armor class, but otherwise, there were no situations with numerous misses in the game.
However, correcting errors alone will not go far, and the authors, in order to follow the letter and spirit of the original PnP, chose the path of "expanding in breadth."
One of the things that many have come to love with Kingmaker is the enormous amount of variation when it comes to creating the protagonist. Race, subrace (for tieflings and aasimars), class, subclass archetype, heritage, gods, domains, animal companions, familiars...
At one time, there was a joke that those who did not refund Kingmaker due to bugs simply could not cope with character creation.
Well, in Wrath of the Righteous Owlcat Games decided to go even further, adding 3 new races with subraces, almost a dozen new classes, new archetypes to the old ones, and the ability to choose the homeland or the social class for the protagonist. And this is all only if you throw overboard the prestige classes, the ability to ride an animal companion, new traits and spells. In this regard, WotR has come closer than ever to a simulator of creating an RPG adventure.
\Ok, so here we see yet old character creation screen and certain new archetypes.)
Arcanist: Base, Brown-Fur Transmuter, Eldritch Font (I think, Unlettered Arcanist, White Mage)
Kineticist: Blood Kineticist, Overwhelming Soul
Rogue: Sylvan Trickster, Underground Chemist
Wizard: Exploiter Wizard\)
As part of my preferences and gaming experience, I chose an Eldritch Scion aasimar girl (Magus archetype, half-warrior-half-sorcerer with the Heritage system) as the protagonist and set off to liberate the demon-occupied Kenabres.
The gameplay itself hasn't undergone any noticeable changes. This is the same familiar RTwP mechanic from the original, inspired by the Obsidian and old Bioware games. The player still controls a party of six heroes, hands out buffs and debuffs, delivers good and inflicts justice along the way, rests in the camp, passes skill checks, and collects loot scattered around the corners of the map.
\Another scene of battle])
There will be a turn-based mode, but in the alpha, it is yet missing.
However, if the core of the gameplay has not changed, the things around it have changed very, very much.
First, there is a rotating camera in the spirit of Expeditions: Viking and D:OS2, which is a useful innovation, allowing you to look at locations from different angles and look for twists hidden by developers.
However, its overall functional performance is slightly overshadowed by Owlcat's change in approach to map- and level-design of the sequel's locations. If Kingmaker was distinguished by relatively flat territories, then the lands of the World Plague are full of hills, mountains, lowlands, and other irregularities in the landscape, which, if the camera is incorrectly rotated, can lead to a large physical object blocking the party view.
The same location in different angles.
In general, in the wilderness, this problem is minimal, but in large cities with their rows of walls and towers, the camera strives to stumble over a donjon. This is more of an annoyance than a real inconvenience, but it is still desirable to correct it for release.
However, it cannot be said that the level design in the sequel has become worse. Just the opposite. Now locations are actively crammed with secret passages, riddles, sub-locations and places for checking party skills. The epic assault on the city at the end of the second act can even be turned into Assassins Creed with jumping over the rooftops onto the city walls. To summarize, I would say that the new location design allows the player much more variability compared to Kingmaker.
Nothing is forced, everything is allowed...
It is also worth noting the emergence of directed cut-scenes. In terms of their visuals, they look good and are distinguished by quite a decent staging and camera work. In general, I would call them functional, but it may be worth working on the graphics engine further.
Deskari attack on Kenabres is done well.
Only graphic shortcomings and missing textures harm the epic, but those are expected from 0.4.0 alpha.
I did not notice any other important changes in the gameplay at its core. In general, it functions as before. However, none of this was the game's leading selling point.
Chapter two. Where an angel hesitates to take a step https://preview.redd.it/xlinzqer1vr51.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ca91045d9fceabe1b5c8c339f174f476bfcf9f81
The main innovation that Owlcat Games is presenting to the player is the Mythical Path system that migrated from the original PnP, designed to seriously diversify the leveling progression and storyline of Wrath of the Righteous.
What is it?
In simple terms, Mythic Paths are a parallel system of unique classes that endows the character with abilities that far exceed ordinary mortals’ reach.
The mythical hero is a character who wields the power to defeat powerful demon-balors with one single blow and single-handedly engage in a battle with the hordes of the Abyss without a chance for the latter to survive.
\)Mystic Power: you get 100% Fortified (immunity to crits/sneaks I presume, DR 10/-, 20 resistance to fire, water, and the rest. Your spell ignores ALL resistances and your enemies fail ALL saves. Attack spells add 100% divine damage and staggered/shaken (not sure about exact terms here) conditions.)
You also get 2 additional attacks per round and a +5 mythic bonus to attack. All your attacks ignore DR, automatically confirm crits and deal 100% additional divine damage. Your first attack of a round deal 4d6 additional damage in a line or cone depending on its type\)
Where these forces come from and what they are worth is one of the plot main mysteries.
In the Owlcat Games interpretation, the Mythic system represents a gradual transformation of the protagonist into one of the extraplanar creatures or powerful creatures of the material plane of the Pathfinder world, each of which is endowed with unique gameplay features.
In the alpha, a reduced number of mythics is available compared to what was promised for the release, but the list is already quite diverse:
Azata (akin to angels, chaotic-good extraplanar creatures, patrons of art and freedom)
Aeon (the ruthless embodiment of law, order, and balance in the universe)
and Trickster (an entity that rearranges reality “just for lulz”)
However, it will take some time before you get the opportunity to choose one of the above paths - after all, this part of leveling is timed to plot events. And, importantly, some of the paths can inadvertently be skipped.
\Mythic list with Angel picked)\)
In the course of my playthrough, I skipped the Trickster storyline, so at the moment of choosing the "mythic" it was not on the list at all.
Since the paths are tied to the hero's alignment, I had a choice between an angel and an azata. I decided to test both of them, and therefore first went for the azata, and then rebooted at the end of the second act and took the angelic path. Well, I can say that they differ significantly in gameplay.
The Angel receives an updated priest spellbook altogether with a set of its own super-powerful spells. The Azata gets at its disposal a set of truly powerful "superpowers" ... and the cutest dragon-companion, which is unusually useful in battle and constantly talks about sweets.
Owlcat Games asked testers to not upload any videos. Angel Magic GIF is from the game's Kickstarter page.
\This) dialog is filled with cuteness and freshly invented words so therefore I give up on translating it. But you still can look at the dragon baby\)
The wisdom of dragons is indisputable!
And here we smoothly move on to another feature of the Mythic Paths. Not only do they give incredible powers - the Azata feat, which allows you to carry any weapon and armor and at the same time give a solid increase to all skills, I'm looking at you! - they also seriously change the plot of Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous.
First, the order and prerequisites for obtaining some quests are changing. For example, I received an important story quest for obtaining the fourth level of the mythic for the azata at the very beginning of the third act, and for the angel, it was almost the last one.
Secondly, unique and rather lengthy questlines and plot twists and turns appear. An angel visits an ancient order of astrologers. The azata collects an army of extravagant "free crusaders". With the angel, I mostly communicated with the herald of the goddess Iomedae. With the azata learned the history of the old enmity between sculptors-cavaliers and confectioners-pikemen...
\) Here Gnome: We are sculptor-cavaliers! The future is ours!
Gnome: We are sculptor-cavaliers! The future is ours!
Gnome: We are sculptor-cavaliers! The future is ours!\)
…no, it’s not a joke.
Mythic Paths also affect regular NPCs and companions. The first ones comment on what you are becoming. The latter receive mythical levels themselves (without choosing a path) and sometimes can indirectly participate in your mythical quests.
Another thing that mythics bring is the disappearance of the alignment dialogue options that filled Kingmaker. Those who played the first Owlcat game remember that in the first act, a character with a neutral alignment could avoid participation in the war of mites and kobolds, and a good one could avoid killing the bandit Kressle. In WotR, a different set of options is responsible for this, tied to mythics rather than alignment.
\)The dialog itself here lacks context, but those options look like:
3. (to lawful [Angel Path] [Show Heaven’s Wrath]) text
4. (to chaotic) text\)
Finishing, it must be said that I asked Owlcat Games about the possibility of changing Mythic Paths in the later stages of the game, and their representative confirmed this possibility.
That's all I can say about the Mythic Paths today. They give the player tremendous replay value, gameplay variety, and unique storylines. However, this is not all that the sequel strives to surprise with.
Chapter three. Heroes of Cross and Crusade. Perhaps the most intriguing goal of the Wrath of the Righteous Kickstarter campaign was adding army-to-army tactical battles in the spirit of the legendary Heroes of Might and Magic series to the sequel.
Nival is an interesting campaign in many ways. Few in the industry can boast of working on games of different genres. And even fewer are those who have shown themselves well in literally every one.
Owlcat Games - in particular, the core of their team - are the natives of Nival Interactive responsible for the fifth part of the cult series, and they used their experience to make its fans feel at home in WotR.
In the sequel, the player takes personal control of not only his party, but also the numerous armies of the crusade, and uses them to destroy the demonic hordes that stand in the way.
\Barnd new tactical battle])
It is currently the youngest of WotR mechanics, but HoMM fans may already recognize many of the elements dear to their hearts. Hiring units with unique abilities, recruiting generals with spell books, different types of resources, rebuilding cities, turn-by-turn battles, and weekly growth. The only thing missing is the astrologers announcing the week of berserk hamsters, but the rest is a careful transfer of a turn-based strategy inside an RPG.
The army uses developer-made roads when traveling the global map, but unlike our party, it has a limited number of turns per day.
Enemy armies blocking the path. Right now they can only defend but the developers want to add aggressive elements and even the possibility of losing your capital. P.S. Remember that many interface elements use old Kingmaker assets and are not the final draft.
And importantly, two different genres in the game are intertwined quite organically. By defeating the enemy army, the player can get not only resources for the strategic part of the game, but also the most valuable equipment for his party, and the occupation of enemy garrisons opens up new locations for exploration.
The influence of the party on the army is currently minimal, but after studying the info from the official forum and talking with the community manager, I can say that the situation should be different on release.
The choice of a Mythic Path will determine which units will be available in the player's army and what abilities they will possess. The developers are also thinking about the possibility of adding resources that are unique for mythics, but this element is still a subject of discussion. In any case, those who cherish nostalgia for the Necropolis faction can safely become a lich and send hordes of skeletons into battle.
\)'Artifact forging': Takes 5 days, the officer has +6 magic (no idea what that means. This belt gives the owner +2 enhancement bonus to Strength. If the owner is mounted and he or his mount make a critical strike the enemy is inflicted with an ‘exploding head’ syndrome for 1d3 rounds. Under this effect it starts to hear loud noises, taking -2 to attack and damage rolls…])
Each conquered artifact can be turned into one of the six possible equipment options. Some are ... pretty extreme.
To summarize, today the system is already felt working, functional and promising, but this is still only the backbone of what it will become.
At this point, I propose to end with the analysis of the gameplay of WotR and move on to the main part: radical changes in tone and narrative.
Chapter four. Black Crusade. Anyone who played Kingmaker should remember that in terms of storytelling, it was in between the mundane Pillars of Eternity and the daring Divinity: Original Sin. On the one hand, at its core was a serious, moderately epic story that raised questions of the leader's responsibility to the society entrusted to him, and on the other, everything that surrounded the plot twists and turns was imbued with humor and the spirit of exploration, which, together with a team of scriptwriters who knew Russian from in the first place, created in many ways a unique and natively close of the CIS leitmotif.
In short, I would apply the epithets "cheerful", "cheerful" and "dear" to the Kingmaker story. And if you're expecting something similar from the sequel...
...be prepared your expectations to be kicked 180 degrees.
\)One. Contains spoilers for Lann so I hesitate with translating it, but it's heavy\)
\)Two. A reminder that this is my translation and not official English localization! Here we go:
Sickening stench roams the room. Like in a slaughterhouse rows of human bodies are hanging on the iron hooks under the ceiling. Some are still, some are twitching and groaning. Female voice spreads pray, faintly. "Saint Iomedae... Forsake... Kha-kha... Forsake us not... In the rotten darkness... But spare us from evil... With your hand...\)
\)Three. Recruit: With trembling hand, the knight brings the knife to his face. "Those eyes that dared to look at you with lust... Take them, oh goddess!" With a hushed moan, the knight cut out his eyes and presents two bloody lumps to the succubus.
Succubus: "I accept your gift!" Having taken the eyes with tender fingers, the succubus draws them along her иуддн and breasts, then places in her mouth and delightedly chews. Bloody mucus flows down her lips and chin. "Now, my knights, I want you to lick... Wait, who is there? What heretics have come to violate our sacrament?" The succubus point at you and the knights who still have their eyes submissively turn in your direction.\)
\)Four. Your throne stands firmly on the backs of naive fools and greedy for glory adventurers. I realized that when the demons brought commander Verstol to the square and pushed him into the healing font of Sarenrae. And then they lighted a fire under it. Commander was being cooked in it for three days and her once merciful yet now cruel blessing was preventing him from dying. His skin swelled in bubbles and peeled off his flesh. We were standing in the square and watching. Our naked bodies were tortured by the cold wind. All our blood flowed out of our wounds as if striving to run far away from that terrible place. Our throats were bleeding without water and our stomaches dried up without food. The whole three days, the commander couldn't die. His meat turned grey and smelled o sweet I hated myself and my desire to taste it. Commander Verstol had stopped screaming before the first midnight, was only wheezing since. On the third morning, this stern man who knew no pity to himself and the enemies started to whimper like a child. His tears were endless, he was boiling in his own tears! Then the font finally broke apart, notwithstanding this terror, and he died. The new owner of Drezed, the demoness Minago, had dinner with his flesh. But she was not greedy - each of us, captives tormented by hunger, was bestowed with a piece of the commander.\)
\)Five. The MC: What the sexual life of the demons looks like?
Arueshalae: "Everything the demons do look like a single thing: cannibalism. Everyone simply devours mortals and other demons in their own way. Some enjoy themselves by gnawing out pieces of flesh. Others prefer to subdue others, turn into slaves, and living tools. The thirds take joy in the humiliation of others. Various forms but the same essence - other creatures are items you use for the sake of your enjoyment.
Arueshalae: "Sex for demons does not differ from other forms of violence. In my last life... (spoiler, I stopped reading myself])
After going through the alpha two times, I still can't say with certainty what kind of "anger pills" the management of Owlcat Games mixes in their writers' dinners, but the degree of naturalism in their texts far exceeds anything I've seen in an RPG before.
Madness; torture; cannibalism; ghouls gnawing at the throats of the crusaders; scenes bordering on real body horror; savoring murder and even superficial descriptions of sexual violence - some of the moments you expect to see more in the pages of "Land Fit for Heroes" by Richard Morgan or "The Great Ordeal" by Scott Backer, but not in a classic isometric RPG.
\)Here. "Devour, 'underground crusaders'! Devour crusaders from the surface! Acquire your power!\)
But do you know what's amazing? All this looks extremely in place within the framework of the unfolding plot. Excessive violence in a work of art is often an element of "childishness" rather than "adulthood" of a story, but in WotR our enemy is the embodiment of evil in its worst forms, and the scriptwriters managed to write it down without reducing everything to shock for shock’s sake. This is a truly robust epic dark fantasy, where all elements of the story feel thoughtful, accurate, and morally ambiguous.
You see, the main conflict in Wrath of the Righteous doesn't even come close to the black and white fight of Good versus Evil that one would expect from Crusade Against Demons. On the contrary, even with the most ‘good’ playthrough, it comes out in black and gray colours at best.
\)More. Crusader: "Our weapons barely scratch the demons' hides! We will sacrifice this girl to Iomedae so the innocent blood could bless our weapons with power to destroy the Abyss spawns!\)
Under the banners of the crusade, not only gallant paladins and servants of good gods gather: ordinary people, green recruits, criminals, maniacs, and sometimes apologists of the most severe tyranny, compared to whom demons can seem like angels, fight next to them.
As a result, while playing, you will more than once encounter acts of betrayal and desertion, showdowns, cases of PTSD, "witch hunts", cowardice and intrigues of those who want to take over your crusade.
\)One. Partly, Sosiel: "On one knight in shining armor, there is a hundred with souls tormented by fear, cruelty, pain. Many seem to have forgotten why they are here and know of nothing but war. When the battle ends they get drunk half-dead and sleep in the dirt. the Rot alive and even not looking for help, have long forsaken themselves."\)
\)Two. Regill: "However, I think respect based on an adequate analysis of your adversary's value is acceptable. I deeply respected my teacher who had been training me for joining the ranks of hellknights. (spoilers])
\)Three. A moment later another scream reaches from above. Rolling over the edge of the canyon, another one of your soldiers falls down and crashes on rocks to death. The decoy squad above desperately fights for lives, theirs, - and yours.\)
The developers initially stated that they did not want to make the history of WotR one-sided, and instead filled it with ambiguity and intrigue on both sides of the conflict.
However, despite all of the above, it would be wrong to say that the sequel's narrative only contains especially dark and violent moments. Still, emotions are strong in contrast, and therefore the game still has room for humor, friendly gatherings, and moments of silence.
\)One, Two, Three, Four, Five - I am not lazy at all, no, I just think the player should discover them on their own!\)
For this, as usual in a party RPG, the main character's companions are primarily responsible. And, as in Kingmaker, each one carries something unique. A priest looking for a lost brother in war; personal cannibal slave; count-hedonist; either a crazy or holy elf girl and many others.
Some will make you laugh tirelessly (Lann, Woljif, and Daeran), others are impossible not to fall in love with at first sight (Arueshalae), and from the thirds you will run away to the demons because the Deskari hordes compared to their background are extremely adequate guys (there is one character out there, whom I was personally asked not to spoil about...).
Lann. A joker, handsome athlete, mutant-descendant of ancient crusaders, and simply OP archer. Mast have in any party.
Sosel. One of the few strictly 'good' characters in the party.
The person responsible for Arueshalae clearly understood what they were doing by adding a dialog option with a hint at love at first sight. Without jokes, a great character both in nature and writing. Hugs
Companions ended up with extremely memorable stories and personalities, constantly leading to friendly - or not so - squabbles.
As a conclusion, I can say that Owlcat approached the development of the narrative and story from a very unexpected and risky side. Epic and truly brutal dark fantasy is a rarity in the gaming industry, and despite the "hardcore" atmosphere, the plot and characters manage to captivate, and the clues scattered here and there hint at the possibility of a very interesting and unexpected payoff. As with Kingmaker, I'm more than happy with the story, and I want to unravel the net built by the developers as quickly as possible.
Conclusion The Kickstarter page lists the release date as June 2021. Given everything that is happening in the world right now, I have some doubts about this date, but even if the game is postponed, I will look forward to its release with great impatience. I am sincerely pleased with what the alpha has offered and what the developers have outlined for future versions of the game.
There will be a beta test before the release, and maybe I'll even cover that too.
I hope you enjoyed this review and learned a lot from it.
In the meantime, I'm leaving. The path of the lich will not thread itself.
submitted by Kiriima to Pathfinder_Kingmaker [link] [comments]
2020.10.06 22:00 Arnold4Alabama Hidden camera hard sex
Note: graphic rape scenes included along with piss scenes (sorry if that's not your thing).
I was a broke, recently graduated college student working a pathetic, low paying, 9-5 job at a sketchy office firm as an assistant. I had let myself go over the years. I was barely under the weight standard of what would be considered obese and I wasn't about to let my confidence drift further down the drain. Against my better judgement, I pulled a loan from an extremely suspicious loan shark and began working on my body from taking quality muscle enhancement drugs to purchasing extensive workout equipment. In only 2 years, I had a 6 pack, toned muscles and my cheek and jawline was well-defined with all the fat burned away. My 6'1" height and round booty figure coupled with my blessed Korean looks had given me the edge I needed to attract guys and girls alike. Things were looking great for me but they weren't meant to last. I was walking home late one night after drinking at a the local tavern with some friends. My apartment wasn't too far but I was staggering. Before my face could recognize any faces, two men walked up to me and slammed me with a bat knocking me unconscious.
I was placed on a musty old mattress in what looked like a basement except it was cold and humid and smelled like dust. There wasn't much else in the room except for a hose, bottles of lube, and ton of weird substances that looked like an assortment of drugs. My observations for the room were interrupted by the realization that I was 100% naked with nothing on me except for a black leather harness that was locked to my chest (literally). I panicked realizing who, what, and why I was in this room and tried to budge open the door. Of course it was locked. I started begging, "Please, please give me just one more month and I'll pay double the interest rate! D-don't do this to me!"
No one spoke, instead, a letter was slipped under the door. All the color faded from my face and the room felt even colder. They had no intention of letting me pay them back to begin with. They saw me change and they loved how I started to become the best looking fuck toy. Of course, they could've continued to scam me and then lock me up in this room to be their play thing but their boss got impatient. I guess, this meant I know longer had to pay them back the money but this was the only silver lining.
The Wolf I heard the door unlocking and stepped back, thinking I could make a bolt for the exit. I was dead wrong. He was otherworldly tall and his mask added to this. His muscularly build literally blocked the exit and any hopes of escaping this room. Similar to me, he was also wearing a harness with spikes that looked like they were made out of real metal and his crotch was covered by a black jockstrap that screamed untamed power. After taking a good look at everything else, I finally went back to his mask. It was a wolf's head with fur sleeves and pockets covering portions of his face. The eyes on the wolf were gouged out leaving only his dark amber eyes to sparkle threw them. I don't think he shaved because I could see fluffy parts that looked more like human hairs than wolf hairs. He stepped inside and slammed the door shut as I took a gulp. I backed up further until I was next to the bed and against the cold concrete walls. He slowly made his way towards me. The fear that was bottled up in me was released and I screamed like a banshee. This only agitated him and made him angrier, so much that he began to growl. I started to doubt that he was human at all. He still kept the same pace but this time with anger all over him. I looked all over the room thinking of things to throw at him to try and stun and make him not fuck me. I threw the bottles of lube at him but he either smacked them away or caught them in one hand. Then I threw the table at him and it only stopped him for .00001 of a second. At this point, the room felt so small and I felt so small and insignificant against him. He was 3 feet away, then 2 feet, then 1 foot, until his hairy chest was just 3 inches away from my face. He was looking down on me with an evil, lustful smile. I froze in place and let him use his large right hand to lift my chin up and force me to look him directly into his wolf-like gaze. He wouldn't let me look away from him. He only wanted me to look at him.
My last act of defiance was spitting at his face and it turned out to be my downfall. He slammed me against the wall and growled even louder. I screamed out loud and he flinched for a second giving me a chance to run past him. The wolf wasn't having any of it and he grabbed the back of my harness. His biceps had my neck in a choke hold and my vision began to blur. I almost passed out until I was once against shoved and thrown around like a sack of potatoes. He had me laying on the bed, his thick thighs restricting my own legs, his hands were like cuffs and they squeezed the blood flowing into my fingers. I felt the wolf's crotch grinding against my own. It felt like titanium and could do nothing but watch as my foreskin was forcibly dragged along his jockstrap. I cried some more begging him to stop and exposing my mouth wide open. The wolf began to drool directly into my face, some of his saliva landed in my mouth. It tasted like cheap vodka with a hint of cigarettes and mint mixed in. I tried to spit out his saliva but then he shoved his tongue down my mouth and started tasting me all over. Tears were streaming down my face as I laid their helpless and breathless.
That was his only act of kindness. The wolf bent my body like putty and had my legs spread out into a 180 degree angle on the bed. I screamed like I had never screamed before as my legs were not used to being this stretched out. I felt the pressure on my arms go away but this was temporary. The wolf's thighs held my arms down and threatened to choke me as they squeezed down on my neck. I felt a wet, slimy sensation in my hold as I realized the wolf was dining on my ass cheeks. He was lubing me up with his spit instead of the complimentary lube set on the table. It felt like hours but in actuality, he was just getting started. The wolf let out an almost inhuman howl as I felt his thighs leave my arms and his face leave my ass. This was my chance to try and get away but it was no use. The wolf had released his jock strap and revealed the worst case scenario for my hole: a 10.5 inch cock with sizable girth and enough bush to realize that this whole wolf motif this man had going was fitting. His arms were on the sides of my ribs and he held me in place as his cock taunted my face cheeks with the head. I was not gonna suck him off, not that monster but it looked like he had no intention of forcing me to suck him. Instead, the wolf backhand slapped me so hard I fell right back on the bed, dazed and confused at the strength of the slap.
I felt an immediate stinging sensation in my small hole. I was gay and hooking up before but I always hooked up with guys with modest cocks. Five inches were fun, six and seven inches were exciting, and the occasional eight and nine inches were tough but manageable. This monster of cock was on a new level and I screamed until it felt like I would lose my vocals. I cried and begged him to stop and take it out but he smiled and spoke actual words for the first time.
"But it's only the first two inches," he replied as I denial filled my brain. He kept going in as fast as he could. It was like he was trying to get the whole thing inside me on record time. The only factor slowing him down was a biological. My ass had never been trained before to take this much cock and he knew it too. It was almost like trying to shoving an entire log down a skinny, one inch diameter hole. I felt his hands let go of my arms but I was too stunned to try and escape. He used his fingers to try and work my hold and I heard him grunt and moan as he got more and more inches inside me. I continued to scream as the tears began to blind any sign of the florescent light bulbs and concrete cinderblock walls.
At long last, he was inside me, the pain was excruciating, so much that my perception of reality was in limbo. I wasn't sure what was real and what was fake and I began to question every decision I made that led me to this moment. Only one thing was certain, the pain flowing through out my entire body. I barely noticed him sliding his cock out of my hole because no sooner than 1 second later, he slammed it right back into it and the cycle of pain started all over again. I was numb and out of it the entire time, any resistance and thoughts of escaping were non-existent now. I was a human play dough toy to him and he molded my arms, legs, shoulders, feet, and body how he see fit. His sadistic nature was almost like an artform to him.
I was laying on the floor, my body collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut off. The wolf's legs were now parallel to mine and felt slam fuck me like this for a solid 10 minutes until he was tired of this position. He pushed me upright and now he was sitting and holding me like a used, blown up sex doll. My eyes were locked onto his but mine were lifeless and barely registered as human. This was my life now. I was this wolf's sex thing. My hole connected with his cock as I was sitting on his lap. I let myself go and let him hold me up right for him to continue fucking me. He eventually got tired of fucking me like this too and went back to fucking me on the bed. He had one of my legs bent an almost impossible angle as he started pumping deep inside me. The pain of my legs being overstretched was nothing compared to the pain of his cock inside my fragile anus. Eventually, I felt the pace pick up and before I could react, the wolf let out an ear splitting howl-like scream as I felt gushes of cum invading my anal cavity and then my larger intestines. He was done but he was still hard as ever, the difference being his cock was still pulsing with newfound relief. I had no strength to fight back and no strength to even pick myself up and try to get comfortable to recover.
The Pigs The wolf acknowledged this and simply dragged me around. I shut my eyes, thinking the worst was over and when I woke up, I was in a different room. This room was huger but also made of cheap, concrete cinderblocks and lit only by red strobe lights. I was attached to a swing-like contraption with wrists and ankles locked in place. I was wearing the harness still but this time a mask was attached to my face. It had a long tube stretched out to the top of this room. I barely caught a glimpse of natural outdoor light and I thought this was my only chance to try and scream to the outside world for help. the mask attachment did nothing but hinder anything remotely like a scream. I heard a door open and watched as countless guys walked in with almost nude and with hard cocks. They were all different sizes, ages, races, heights, with varying cock lengths and girths but what they all had in common were the masks they wore. All of their masks were identical, they were pigs that looked like they came from the Saw movie franchise and I was frightened as they began to laugh and snort like pigs. My mind cleared up and I realized what the tubes and swing were for. I struggled some more but my encounter with the wolf has my stamina running on nearly empty. My ass was position in such a way that not only could I not turn it over, but it provided the optimal angle for which any of the pigs could enter comfortably into my still stretched hole. The long tube connected to my face was some kind of device that could drain liquids nearly into my nose and mouth but not suffocate me. There were large enough openings on the sides of my masks to help drain these liquids. This was the ultimate set up for bukkake and bareback sex and I was horrified at the thought of STDs and STIs spreading all over me but I had not choice in the matter. My suffering was as inevitable as the pleasure the wolf and these pigs would force themselves to get out of me. In a sick turn of events, an intercom with a robotic voice announced the start of the 23rd annual cumdump site. The pigs spared no second walking up to me to feel me all over and finger my really loose hole. I lost track of the number of times guys would likely kick my balls and cock or sucked them to sooth them. I lost track of the number of times entering in and out of my hole with either their mouths or their cocks. Quite frankly, their cocks were a far cry to what the wolf's cock felt like and thus, I was relegated to being the perfect cum dump. Some weren't even trying to shoot their load inside me, aiming it on my ass just to keep it moist was enough for them. some made and effort to cum on other parts of my body like my face but for the most part, all of the loads went right into my hole. The circulation of guys walking in and out of the room was enough to dull out the pain.
Meanwhile, a television screen in front of me appeared revealing the purpose of the upstairs room, what I thought was the outdoors. For guys less inclined to take risks, they had nothing but live footage of the pigs fucking and cumming all over me as they jerked off and came into a customized urinal with the tube attached to my mask. The line stretched outside of the room and seemed to go on forever but once again, these men were all wearing the same pig masks. Some came quickly while others stayed to continue to enjoy watching the show. There was an unspoken rule that once you came you were to head to the end of the line or watch elsewhere. Other filthy bastards took the time to piss into the urinal afterwards and watch as it start to flow down the tube. The way the tube was angled to my mask was at an almost 60 degree angle. It was not enough for the piss and cum to just fall on my head and slide down the sides but was high enough to the point where it would drain slowly but surely splash into my face. The pigs enjoyed every second of it, they enjoyed every drop landing on my nose. When I accidentally swallowed a drop they would all cheer out loud and furiously jerk off or piss some more hoping to get more down my throat. Eventually the smell of piss and cum mixed together dulled out my nose and I no longer had any notion of throwing up (for fear of consuming more cum and piss). My stomach felt bloated, as if I had over douched prior but this was just the consistency of the cum melting together to make an almost liquid concoction that could permeate my intestines. I watched on camera as my once, slightly tanned ass was now the very definition of a cream filled donut with white icing on top. As impressive as this was, it compared nothing to the amount of cum that was evident on the once clean and pristine concrete floors. Cum and piss were splattered below my mask and the cum below my asshole was now drying and thickening too. It spoke to miles about the terrible aiming of these pigs in general.
These pigs were surprisingly generous (or remorseless depending on how you look at it) and installed a clock for me to try and account for the amount of time that had passed by. There were still groups of guys lining up at the urinal and the number of guys taking turns on my barely noticeable ass cheeks were still about the same. This went on for hours and I could do nothing but watch and observe the variety of techniques.
Hour One: The pigs fucking my ass attempted to double penetrate me but only gave up when the cum started to make them lose their own footing. The ones at the top floor grew impatient and soon, three pigs at a time were crowding at the urinal to release their loads and piss.
Hour Two: Maintenance finally came in and funnily enough, they were wearing pig masks but unlike everyone else, they wore custodian clothing. They could hardly be called custodians seeing as that would imply cleaning up messes. Instead, they took out cat scoopers and began to shovel whatever wet cum on the floor was left. They then spread the mixture onto all parts of my body. The tube began to clog. To remedy this, the custodian pigs took and hose and began to spray down the tube with water. It was a welcoming sensation since this would have been the first time I had been cleaned since being kidnapped here. As disgusted as I was, I could not help but be impressed with how quickly they did all of this. They only spent 10 minutes in total.
Hour Three: The barrage of loads in my hole and down the tubes were a biological rainstorm to me. I started regaining more feeling in my asshole allowing me to push out some of the cum. This was quickly replaced with more guys refilling it. There were noticeably less pigs than before.
Hour Four: A few stragglers came in and filled me up but now I was able to listen to the sickeningly terrible porno music they were apparently playing all day. Just as I was about to give up all hope of this ending, the robotic voice intercom appeared thanking all pigs for entering this years dump. I should be thrilled it's all over but I felt nothing. I now had the weight (literally and mentally) of all those guys who had used me for their own pleasure along with any health side effects they may pose. The door opened once more and I anticipated yet another pig but instead came face to face with the wolf again. The wolf untied me and unlocked the mask connecting to my face. He then took his own mask off revealing his distinct facial features and steely-eyed complexion. A small, hidden pool of piss and cum mixture came and splashed part of his manly face but it did not faze him in the slightest. He was too busy staring into my lifeless eyes and unharmed lips. He kissed me with them, the faint taste of cum in his tongue before forcibly shoving my face back down. The wolf wrapped a towel around me and carried me like the garbage I am. I slowly began to black out again, this time oddly more peacefully than before. I heard the door open one last time before knocking out entirely. My last thoughts were this:
"Am I free now? Am I going to die? Is this wolf going to devour me now? I don't care anymore. I have served my purpose and this wolf, those pigs, they own me now and I am now their meat,"
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2020.10.01 16:20 HaulA1Oct What you are looking for is..... (Link in the Desc.)2
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2020.09.26 06:09 AdequateSizeAttache Hidden camera hard sex
[This post has been split into two parts because of selfpost character limits.]
Introduction It surprises me how often I see discussions involving speculation on whether JonBenet's UTIs, vaginitis, bedwetting, and history of frequent doctor visits indicate sexual abuse or not. These discussions invariably include people chiming in to share how they or someone they know had similar issues but were never abused. From these discussions, one could get the impression that itchy pageant costumes or Mr. Bubble useage are perfectly reasonable explanations for the evidence of sexual abuse.
The fact is, there's no need to speculate based on these things. There is physical evidence that is a significant indicator of prior sexual abuse. This is the evidence that should be at the forefront of discussions on the question of sexual abuse, not bubble baths or bedwetting. Issues such as vaginitis, UTIs, and bedwetting are not specific to sexual abuse; there are other possible explanations for them. There is no other possible explanation for the physical evidence besides trauma from physical penetration.
In reading discussions on the case over the years, it's always puzzled me how often the evidence of prior sexual abuse gets downplayed or dismissed. In considering why, I believe it is due primarily to these two common misconceptions:
Common Misconception 1 (as demonstrated above): The evidence of sexual abuse = vaginal irritation, UTIs, rashes, bedwetting, soiling, frequent doctor visits
Common Misconception 2: There is a medical debate on the issue and there's evidence to support both sides
Common Misconception 1 is a straw man argument — the actual evidence (the physical findings) is not being addressed or refuted.
Common Misconception 2 is an argument from false equivalence. An equal, rather than accurate, amount of weight is given to both sides of the issue. People see the mountain of conflicting information and contradicting opinions and think "It looks like expert opinion on this issue is divided; I guess a case can be made for either side." The enormous difference in expertise and experience between the various experts is ignored, as is the level of access they had to the evidence. This misconception gives the impression that all these expert opinions cancel each other out, rendering the issue debatable and open to interpretation. Consequently, the probative value of the evidence is undermined, making it easier for people to feel they can dismiss.
I think several factors have contributed to these two misconceptions:
"It is my understanding that this (vaginal inflammation) is not uncommon among children of that age," Korten said.Child abuse experts were asked to join the fray with their own reactions. In a February 20 article, the Daily Camera reported this quote from Dr. Joan Slook, pediatrician with the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston:
"Poor hygiene can cause chronic inflammation," Slook said. "Some little girls don't wash themselves properly." Improper wiping or washing in the vaginal area can introduce bacteria and produce inflammation, she said.In all this media commentary and premature speculation based on incomplete information, chronic inflammation became conflated with evidence of sexual abuse. Even after the full autopsy report was released and information about the evidence of prior abuse came out, Ramsey defense campaign representatives continued to respond to questions about prior sexual abuse with explanations involving poor wiping, bedwetting, and bubble baths. These sneaky answers did the trick — it convinced people who didn't know otherwise that the evidence was something it wasn't.
"Some little girls can have asymptomatic bladder infections that can cause irritation in the vagina," Slook said. "Chronic inflammation is a pretty non-specific thing to say," she said, adding that epithelial erosion also is vague.
Boulder Police would later ask several child sexual abuse experts to review the autopsy findings* in order to help them determine if there was evidence of prior sexual abuse. In addition to Andrew Sirotnak, these are the experts whom we know were consulted:
- Dr. Meyer also observed signs of chronic inflammation around the vaginal orifice and believed that these injuries had been inflicted in the days or weeks before the acute injury that was responsible for causing the bleeding at the time of her death. This irritation appeared consistent with prior sexual contact.
[Foreign Faction: Who Really Kidnapped JonBenet?, A. James Kolar, p. 58]
- Following the meeting, Dr. Meyer returned to the morgue with Dr. Andy Sirontak, Chief of Denver Children's Hospital Child Protection Team, so that a second opinion could be rendered on the injuries observed to the vaginal area of JonBenet. He would observe the same injuries that Dr. Meyer had noted during the autopsy protocol and concurred that a foreign object had been inserted into the opening of JonBenet's vaginal orifice and was responsible for the acute injury witnessed at the 7:00 o'clock position. Further inspection revealed that the hymen was shriveled and retracted, a sign that JonBenet had been subjected to some type of sexual contact prior to the date of her death. Dr. Sirontak could not provide an opinion as to how old those injuries were or how many times JonBenet may have been assaulted and would defer to the expert opinions of other medical examiners.
[Kolar, p. 61]
- Dr. Meyer was concerned about JonBenet's vaginal injuries, and he, along with Boulder investigators, sought the opinions of a variety of other physicians in the days following her autopsy. Dr. Sirontak, a pediatrician with Denver Children's Hospital, had recognized signs of prior sexual trauma but neither he nor Dr. Meyer were able to say with any degree of certainty what period of time may have been involved in the abuse.
[Kolar, p. 63]
In mid-September, a panel of pediatric experts from around the country reached one of the major conclusions of the investigation - that JonBenet had suffered vaginal trauma prior to the day she was killed.The experts expected to testify in court had the case gone to trial. As we know, there was no criminal trial, but we know the experts were called to testify before the grand jury.
There were no dissenting opinions among them on the issue, and they firmly rejected any possibility that the trauma to the hymen and chronic vaginal inflammation were caused by urination issues or masturbation. We gathered affidavits stating in clear language that there were injuries "consistent with prior trauma and sexual abuse"...."There was chronic abuse"..."Past violation of the vagina"...."Evidence of both acute injury and chronic sexual abuse." In other words, the doctors were saying it had happened before.
The results, however, were not what is known in the legal world as "conclusive" - which means that there can be no other interpretation - and I would fully expect defense lawyers to argue something different. Nevertheless, our highly qualified doctors had brought in a remarkable finding.
[JonBenet: Inside the Ramsey Murder Investigation, Steve Thomas & Don Davis, p. 253]
|1||Chronic inflammation around vaginal orifice||FF|
|2||Small amount of dried blood on perineum||AR|
|3||Small amount of dried and semifluid blood on skin of fourchette and in vestibule||AR|
|4||Hyperemia of vestibule and vaginal wall||AR|
|5||Abrasion on hymenal orifice at 7 o'clock position, involving the hymen and vaginal wall||AR|
|6||Epithelial erosion with underlying capillary congestion of tissue from 7'oclock||AR|
|7||Hymenal orifice measuring 1cm x 1cm||AR|
|8||A lack of hymenal tissue between the 10 and 2 o'clock positions||AR|
|9||Vascular congestion and focal interstitial chronic inflammation of vaginal mucosa in all sections||AR|
|10||Bruise on hymen||BP|
|11||Three dimensional thickening from inside to outside of inferior hymenal rim||BP|
|12||Narrowing of inferior hymenal rim to base of hymen||BP|
|13||Exposure of vaginal rugae||BP|
There was a three dimensional thickening from inside to outside on the inferior hymeneal rim with a bruise apparent on the external surface of the hymen and a narrowing of the hymeneal rim from the edge of the hymen to where it attaches to the muscular portion of the vaginal openings. At the narrowing area, there appeared to be very little if any hymen present.To understand what this means, take a look at the white line segment labeled "Hymenal width" in this colposcopic photo (warning: image of vagina/hymen). It demarcates the length of the hymenal membrane from the rim/edge to the base where it attaches to the vaginal wall.
These findings are highly suggestive of abuse, even in the absence of a disclosure from the child, unless the child and/or caretaker provides a timely and plausible description of accidental anogenital straddle, crush or impalement injury, or past surgical interventions that are confirmed from review of medical records.Among those findings that are "highly suggestive of abuse" includes point 37, listed in the subsection titled "Residual (healing) injuries to genital/anal tissues" under section E:
Healed hymenal transection/complete hymen cleft, a defect in the hymen below the 3-9 o'clock location that extends to or through the base of the hymen, with no hymenal tissue discernible at that locationThis is precisely what Dr. McCann described having observed in JonBenet.
If any doctor or medical provider today observed a transection on the inferior half of the hymen of a prepubertal female patient, he/she would be required to make a report for suspected sexual abuse and an explanation would be required for how that healed injury got there. In forty years of research, this finding has not been seen in any other instance besides from penetrating trauma. In prepubertal girls, it is indicative of sexual abuse unless it can be shown otherwise.
- Multiple studies have noted the presence of hymenal transections only in prepubertal girls with a history of disclosed sexual abuse.
[ Sara T. Stewart, MD. Hymenal Characteristics in Girls with and without a History of Sexual Abuse, p. 533]
- Hymenal transections are very rarely seen in prepubertal girls who have not been sexually abused. However, a demonstrated transection, based on multiple studies, is commonly viewed as “a clear but uncommon indicator of past trauma.”
[Mishori, R., Ferdowsian, H., Naimer, K. et al. The little tissue that couldn’t – dispelling myths about the Hymen’s role in determining sexual history and assault.]
- Thus a deep notch, transection, or perforation on the inferior portion of the hymen may be considered as a definitive sign of sexual abuse or other trauma.
[Berenson, et al. A case-control study of anatomic changes resulting from sexual abuse, p. 829]
- A transection of the posterior hymen between 4 and 8 o’clock in prepubertal girls suggests genital penetrating trauma; however, the presence of this finding is not confirmatory of sexual abuse. Posterior hymenal findings including transections between 4 and 8 o’clock, deep notches, and perforations were not seen in studies of prepubertal girls without a history of genital trauma from sexual abuse included in this systematic review. Therefore, one can conclude that the posterior hymenal findings of transections, deep notches, and perforations are extremely infrequent findings among children without a history of genital trauma from sexual abuse or other means. [...]
However, because the prevalence of posterior hymenal findings (between 4 and 8 o’clock) such as transections, deep notches, and perforations are near zero in nonabused prepubertal girls, the presence of these examination findings suggests genital trauma from sexual abuse. In the absence of known genital trauma from accidental means, the possibility for sexual abuse must be strongly considered. In a prepubertal girl with a posterior hymenal finding of a transection (between 4 and 8 o’clock), a deep notch (between 4 and 8 o’clock), or a perforation, a report to child protective services should be strongly considered. At a minimum, an examination by a child abuse specialist should occur to confirm these findings and to help provide a careful interpretation regarding the likelihood of sexual abuse.
[Molly Curtin Berkoff, MD, MPH; Adam J. Zolotor, MD, MPH; Kathi L. Makoroff, MD; et al. Has This Prepubertal Girl Been Sexually Abused?, p. 2790]
Of 161 accidental genital injuries reported in the literature, 3.7% involved the hymen.However, they do occur and the resulting injuries can mimic those of sexual abuse. In such cases, it is important that the cause of the injury be confirmed.
[Child Abuse: Medical Diagnosis and Management, 4th ed. Antoinette Laskey and Andrew Sirotnak (eds.), p. 359]
Whether an acute or healed genital or anal injury is identified, it is incumbent on the medical professional to obtain a complete history of the nature of the injury. [...]If JonBenet's prior hymenal injury was the result of an accident or a past surgical procedure, it should be reflected in her medical records and easy to prove. An accidental penetrating injury that results in a complete laceration of the hymen is considered severe, one that would be painful and cause bleeding. It would be expected that most parents or caretakers would seek medical attention for their child's injury.
Key differences in the history of accidental trauma, such as a straddle injury, are that accidental injuries are more commonly observed by a third party, medical attention is sought immediately after the injury, a scene-of-injury visit confirms the plausibility of the injuries and the accompanying history, and the pattern of injury is consistent with the history.
[Child Abuse: Medical Diagnosis and Management, 4th ed. Antoinette Laskey and Andrew Sirotnak (eds.), p. 359]
2020.09.25 19:48 dogeman87 I just found out why I’m an only child.
You know how it goes. They tell you you’re the perfect child. You were so perfect that they didn’t want to have any more. You’re smart, caring, sociable. Any goal they set for you is reached. Any goal you set for yourself is too high, but you reach it anyways.
I imagine that is how most only children feel at some point. My parents are wonderful people, and I think most of what they say about me is true, even if they tend to sugarcoat it. Now that I’m in college, I do some more questionable things that they might not approve of, but who doesn’t?
In truth, I’m not as perfect as they make me out to be. I’m an above-average student, but I’m not pre-med or engineering. I’m majoring in economics. I do well, I get solid A’s and a few B’s, and I’m active in a couple clubs. I still have no idea what I want to do in life, though.
I’ve only dated one girl, all the way back in sophomore year of high school. The relationship fell apart at the beginning of senior year. We split amicably, I think. Since then, I just haven’t found anyone. You know how it is, scrolling through Tinder and finding so many prospects but then realizing that all of them are either assholes or comically awkward.
Does it bother me? No. None of it does. I couldn’t care less if I’m dating or doing well in school. As long as I’m maintaining my GPA and having fun, classes don’t bother me. I go to parties, I hang out with friends, I smoke a bit of weed every now and then. I’m living the college life.
Well, I was. Then I had this conversation with my dad my freshman year. I’m a senior now. It seemed harmless enough. He asked how my week went, and I told him fine. I asked how he and mom were doing, and he said fine. He asked me what my grades were. Normal, I told him. A’s and B’s. He was satisfied.
Before he hung up, he admitted something to me. “Grant,” he said. “Have you noticed anything strange lately?”
I was dumbfounded. “No, Dad. What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
He left it at that, and I could only speculate what he had meant. He wouldn’t elaborate. He only told me to have a great rest of my day.
The next evening, he washed up dead on the riverbank.
After two weeks, the police gave up. They said the cause of death was drowning. The autopsy matched up, I guess. They don’t know who did it. The fact that there was foul play is obvious, because my dad was stripped of his wedding ring and clothes and he lived far away from the river.
I had to fly halfway across the country for the funeral. I ended up taking incompletes for my classes that semester. The day would not move fast enough. The services took forever. I don’t remember much, only shaking a lot of people’s hands and watching my mother fall apart. That was the hardest part, I think, watching her sob uncontrollably. Nothing is more disturbing than watching a loved one break down like that. It hits hard, harder than a punch or a knife to the gut. It twists your stomach until you can’t eat anymore, can’t sleep, or maybe you sleep for fifteen hours and still feel exhausted.
I don’t like to dwell on the funeral, so I won’t. I’ll let your imagination fill in the blanks. You can picture what it was like.
I returned to school the next semester. Everyone was sympathetic, but at the same time they gave me space. They knew I didn’t want to talk about it. What college student would? How weird would that have been, breaking down at a party or in the middle of class and talking about my dead dad? Normal, yes, but also embarrassing as hell.
Nevertheless, I found myself talking about it with some girl. I was drunk, way too drunk for my own good. One thing they don’t tell you at parties is how to pace yourself. College kids don’t have much tolerance for alcohol. A couple beers is all it takes to get wasted, for some of us.
I was a little different. I’m tall, over six feet, so I could take more than most. Still, I had only been to a handful of parties at that point. It only took a couple hours to lose self-control.
The girl was pretty. I remember that, though I don’t remember what she actually looked like. She consoled me for a while. I don’t remember why I was talking about my dad, either. I’m sure she had heard the story already. Word got around campus fast. She still listened.
I’m not sure how it escalated, but one thing led to another, and the next thing I remember she was sucking my dick in a closet. Sounds bad, I know, and it was. Not as bad as some of the other things, though. Someone had brought coke- thank God I didn’t go for that- and as we’d made our way to the back of the house, I saw a couple having sex on the couch. In the middle of the room. People were just walking around them like it was nothing.
At least I wore a condom?
Whatever. College is crazy. Case closed. Right?
I wish it were that simple. Thing is, after we had sex the girl, understandably, left me by myself. Probably went to blow some other guy. I went back into the main room, and that’s when things started to go to shit.
They were still doing coke. One of the guys offered some. When I declined, he pressed a straw into my hand instead. I told him he could go shove it. For some reason, the guy didn’t react. He just turned back to the table.
I knew I had to get out of there. Getting caught with alcohol is one thing. But coke? I could go to prison for that. I started extracting myself from the room when I heard it.
There was someone in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. They were whimpering. My first guess was sex, because I’d seen so much of it already that night. But there was only one voice, and the whimpers sounded like pain. Then there was a thud.
I knocked on the door. No response. I rattled the doorknob, and of course it was locked. Then I kicked the door in. The guy that I’d heard was on the floor. There was a little blood, but most startling was the pool of vomit and the guy’s facial expression. He looked dead. I checked his pulse, determined that he was indeed alive, then rolled him onto his side and pulled out my phone to call an ambulance.
That’s when I saw the shadow. It was so faint. I’m not sure how I noticed, really, except for the fact that it shifted. I looked at the shower curtain. Fear settled in my stomach then. I realized that I was in a room on the second floor, far from the rest of the party, with no one but the passed-out guy within calling distance.
The shadow was just from a headlight outside. I began to breath again. Then I felt the hand on my shoulder.
I tried to scream. Another hand slowly closed around my mouth. It was cold and leathery, and wet. I tasted what was probably blood, and I suspected it was from the hand. I began to hyperventilate, which, as you might have guessed, was a really bad idea when my airway was being blocked. I pretty much was asking to lose consciousness.
The hand that had grabbed my shoulder moved down my back. I felt what I can only describe as a tonguelike protrusion running over my neck. I trembled. I figured I was about to die. I would be lying on the floor like this guy, killed by a monster, and no one would find us until next morning at the earliest, and undoubtedly they would think I died the same way as him.
Amazingly, my first thought was of my mom. She couldn’t deal with another death in the family. She would lose it, as anyone would. That, more than the immediate threat that had presented itself, chilled me.
That’s when I ripped the hand from my mouth and screamed. The hand fell on the floor, disintegrated into dust, and I screamed some more.
Whatever had been behind me was gone. I knew it the second it left, because the room suddenly warmed up. I had not realized it had been so cold. Probably I had been too caught up in the moment. The temperature now was like a sauna in comparison.
I looked around frantically. I examined the walls, the ceiling, brushed back the shower curtain, peered carefully behind the toilet. There was nothing. I sat there on the floor for a while, waiting for the shadow and the monster to return. My skin crawled, thinking of that leathery hand on my mouth, the tongue leaving saliva on my neck.
If I had been doing coke, I could have chalked it up to a hallucination. But I’d been clean. I’d had a few beers, but at that moment I was pretty lucid. I was certainly more lucid than the guy on the floor.
I had forgotten about him, actually. I looked at my phone, which had fallen on the floor during my encounter with the shadow, and I picked it up. I dialed 911, told them what had happened, then left. The next morning half a dozen people were looking at drug charges in addition to underage drinking.
The guy that I found? He recovered. I think after that he didn’t go to any more parties. I don’t blame him. His blood alcohol content was .35, if I remember correctly. He should have been dead.
I didn’t go to many other parties, but for a different reason. My name had not been used in the paper, so my mom didn’t know. There was no pressure from her or anyone else, least of all the police, who chastised me but were happy that I did the right thing. No, it was the shadow that stopped me. I didn’t want to be in a place where everyone was drunk or coked out again, because if I was that shadow could return and probably kill me. I’m certain that it left because it thought others would find it. It was waiting for a time when I was alone.
Much better to stay home, in the safety of the dorms, with my two other roommates and the dozen others that were within earshot and sober. Much better to forget what had happened, chalk it up to stress or a laced drink, and go on with my life as I had before.
Thing is, it’s never that simple. I wasn’t able to forget about the monster, because that wasn’t the last time I saw it.
My roommates were out, and I was by myself. That was the first mistake. Jason had gone to a D&D game. Richard had been invited to a party by one of the football players, somehow. He’s not athletic, not particularly impressive in any way, but he’s chill as hell. Everyone is his friend, which is probably how he got invited.
I wasn’t doing much. I was not alone, either. There were people on either side of my room, behind the walls, guys who were probably jerking off or playing video games. Me? I was reading a book. I know, not exactly what you would expect from someone my age. But I like reading. I especially like Stephen King (which may have been the wrong thing to read at that moment), and that’s what I was reading when I heard the noise.
I didn’t react to it. I figured someone was outside. We lived in suites, where four or five rooms shared a semi-private bathroom. It was a hell of a lot better than the bathrooms in other dorms, which were set up for entire floors. Here you could have some privacy.
The bathroom door closed. There was a loud grunt, then a plop. I sighed. It was probably Randolph. He takes the largest shits of anyone I have ever known. He can sit there for twenty minutes and keep dropping them. Usually we have to use the plunger or call maintenance when that happens. That night, though, would be different.
He gave out a yelp, and then I heard the door slam. I looked up. My door was partially closed, so I walked over to open it, and that’s when I saw him. He was slumped over on the toilet.
I ran over to him, ignored the penis in his hands, and checked for a pulse. He seemed fine. There were no wounds on him. He hadn’t moved, either, had obviously passed out on the seat. So how had the door been flung open?
I felt it again. The hand. It was on my arm this time. I would have let out a scream had it not clamped down. It felt like my bones were being grinded together. The pain was so immense that my vision flickered, and I could only whimper.
I was thrown back into my room. Somehow, I landed on my bed. Then I saw it. The monster was there, standing in the doorway. Perhaps demon is a better word. It was tall, maybe seven or eight feet, and it was completely black. I don’t mean black as in a black laptop or shirt or an xbox. This thing defied logic. It seemed to be so dark that light did nothing to illuminate it.
It had horns, antler-like but distinct in that they came from the side of its head and were not very long. The eyes were the worst. They were coal-black, with tinges of red where white should have been. And they were looking straight at me.
I did scream then. Someone said something in an adjacent room. The demon’s head whipped to the side unnaturally, like a kid whipping a pool noodle, and then it scrambled into the ceiling. Yeah, you read that right. It went into the ceiling, climbed up the walls like a drugged-up lizard and just phased through the tiles.
I didn’t move until the RA came over. He noticed Randolph first. Surprisingly, he did not make any snide remarks about Randolph’s dick. He called campus police before asking me what had happened. I told him. I asked if I would be in trouble. He said no way, because I obviously had not hurt Randolph. What had happened to him was a mystery.
Well, until the police arrived. They took him in, and I heard that he tested positive for MDMA. Ecstasy. I had not known him to be the druggie type. I mean, most college students experiment, but doing it in the dorm? It was asking for trouble. And Randolph was not stupid. He was a lot smarter than me, got a single B first semester and didn’t have to study as hard as most of us.
I wished he had been awake to see the demon. If he had been, of course, I suspect the demon would not have showed. It seemed to be fixated on me and me alone. It did not want to be seen by others. That was a comfort, I suppose, if not downright terrifying. There would be moments, I was sure, where I was forced to be alone. In the dorm or at a party or in a bathroom between classes… forgive me for the cliché, but the possibilities were endless.
So I told my roommates about what had happened. They didn’t get back until late that night, well after I had gone to sleep. I don’t know how I did. I guess I’m a heavy sleeper, is all. You kind of have to be if you want any rest in a dorm, at least one as rowdy as ours can get.
None of us had classes the next morning. Jason was skeptical, as he should have been. If he had told me about monsters and demons, I wouldn’t have believed him. Richard was more open to the idea, but he didn’t seem to care. He told me to chill out. I was too stressed, he said. Did I need to talk about what had happened last semester?
“It has nothing to do with that,” I snapped.
He raised his hands. “Hey, dude, don’t yell at me. I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah,” I told him. “I know.”
“Then listen to me, man. You need to take a breather. When’s the last time you went to a party? Hey, you know what, I’ve got the perfect idea. I met this girl last night. Super hot and friendly. She’s your type. I think-“
“I’m not looking for a hookup,” I said flatly.
“What? You’re gonna turn down sex?”
I stared at him, and I think he finally got the message. He shut up.
“I have an idea,” Jason said. “What if we set up surveillance? I know a place where we can get hidden cameras. It’s not far from campus. I’ll get them after class Friday. If it doesn’t like being watched, like you say, then it shouldn’t bother you again.”
I knew Jason didn’t believe me. Still, the fact that he wanted to ease my nerves meant a lot. He’s not the most outgoing kind of guy. He’s a nerd, a chemistry student with a passion for chemistry and nothing else. He’s involved in academic extracurriculars only. I think he’s dated before, but I never learned the details. He doesn’t talk about girls. I only know that there’s this one girl in my English class, Jessica, who says he’s a creep.
We stuck to the plan. It wasn’t foolproof- I would find myself alone outside of the dorm eventually- but it was good enough. As it turned out, I would be by myself Saturday morning. Jason had a club meeting that for some reason had not been held during the week, and Richard was going on a date. He has unconventional good looks- long black hair, brown eyes, thin beard with just the right shape- and he’s smooth. Like, more smooth than should be humanly possible. He’s chill around us and chiller around girls, like he’s known them forever. They love that about him, how genuine he can be.
I begged one of them to stay. Jason told me, understandably, that he couldn’t miss the meeting. Richard was not about to ghost the girl he had been building a relationship with for the past month. Jason said I could always call for the RA or other guys in the dorm. I figured he was right. I also figured I didn’t want the demon to show up at all. Screw proving it to my roommates- I just wanted it to go away.
It didn’t appear until two hours after Jason left. Richard had already been gone for a while, had probably made his way back to the girl’s room. I heard it before I saw it. The demon made a slithering sound when it walked. I had not noticed before because it always appeared, never really moved across the room.
I looked up. You’d think seeing it two times before would make it less scary. You’d be wrong. Having a seven-foot, black-skinned behemoth with antlers and red eyes stand over you, it’s just too much. I screamed like a girl. I guess that time it didn’t get close enough to shut me up.
Its head darted toward the door, and for some reason I took my eyes off the thing. Jason was standing there with his backpack in his hand. His jaw had dropped so far open I thought he would shriek like one of those possessed people in horror movies. The demon skittered up the wall and through the ceiling.
We looked at each other for a while, neither of us speaking. He was still holding his backpack in one hand. I was halfway out of my chair, frozen, ready to spring up at the sight of another monster. Finally he dropped his backpack, and I fell into my seat.
“What the fuck was that?” Jason said. His words startled me. I almost never heard him swear.
“It’s what I told you about,” I said. Even as I spoke, Jason was climbing on the bed, reaching for one of the cameras, taking it down and hooking it up to his laptop. “Now you believe me?”
“I think I have to,” he said, laughing nervously. “Unless we’re both insane.”
He tinkered with his laptop for a while. When he started cursing, I walked over and asked what the problem was. He just pointed to the screen. I looked and saw the timestamp in the bottom left corner. Twenty minutes ago, about when he had walked in and saw the demon. The room was empty. Then I saw him appear in the doorway, flabbergasted, before climbing on the bed and taking down the camera. The footage ended there.
“It didn’t show up,” I said.
“We’re both crazy, after all,” he told me.
“No, we’re not. Think about it. Would a demon want to show itself? This is the first time someone else has seen it. If you hadn’t walked in when you did, I doubt you would have ever gotten your proof.”
He rubbed his chin. “You might be right.”
“You can’t tell me you think that was a hallucination. I told you about it earlier this week. How the hell do you explain seeing what I had already seen?”
“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “I just was hoping it wasn’t real.”
We talked about it for a while. He wanted to know exactly what had happened at the party. I wasn’t sure what good it would do, but I told him anyways. There was no harm in sharing. Besides, I wanted to tell someone. I had only mentioned the demon in vague details when I had first seen it. Telling the whole story, about how it had emerged from a shadow and almost suffocated me to death, that would have been a red flag for sure. Jason would have referred me to the counseling office.
We waited for Richard to get home. When he did, he was drunk on ecstasy or alcohol or both. I don’t mean the drug ecstasy, either. He was grinning stupidly, and I was sure he’d have some wild sex story to talk about. Before he could share, Jason started explaining rapidly what had happened, and he sobered up fast.
Richard hadn’t been skeptical from the start. Hearing Jason talk about the demon only made him more convinced. He wanted to summon it immediately and fight.
“We’ll be killed,” I told him.
“Nah,” he said. “I can call in some of my buddies. I think one of them, that football player that lives off campus? I think he has a gun.”
“Jesus, Rich,” Jason said. “You want to bring a gun into the dorm?”
He shrugged. “Would they blame us if we were hunting a demon?”
“Yes, they would,” I told him. “There are no guns allowed. Besides, the thing didn’t show up on camera.”
We hinged on a plan that admittedly had more flaws than a third-grade essay. Jason did some research. He had to go through the deep web, which I know nothing about, and he found some information. First, he determined that, from my description, the demon supposedly took away men’s fertility.
Had it killed my father?
I didn’t want to think about that. It hardly mattered what had happened, because the past would not change.
We didn’t really find anything on how to kill the demon. Jason had a few suggestions based on the show Supernatural, but I shot those down. I figured a fictional series would know nothing about real life. Unless those were real, he told me. I’d seen a little of the show myself, and I insisted that what I had seen was very different than a demon occupying a human host.
In the end, we had no idea what the hell we were doing. We just made a conglomeration of different precautions. Jason bought some salt, Richard brought a hunting knife (that, unlike a gun, might not get me expelled), I asked around and found out that most of my friends found me crazy. I understood. If one of them had come to me asking about demons, I would have acted the same.
Richard also asked some of his friends for help. Somehow, they believed him. I’m not sure if it’s because of Richard’s charisma or because he never lies or both. Whatever the case, he actually found someone who claimed to know a thing or two.
She was an old woman, and she met with Richard during the week. He came back and told us that the demon took the fertility of older men, then killed them. I asked why it was stalking me. He said they did not like leaving any descendants.
I think that’s when I realized: this thing had been hunting my dad. It seemed so obvious now. There are many, many people in the world that purposefully have one child. My parents, though? I knew immediately what had happened. This demon had stalked my dad. It had killed him, too, and now it, as Richard had said, wanted to finish the job.
That was when I stopped caring. I didn’t mind that what we were doing was crazy. I didn’t mind the possibility of a horrible death, because it was quite likely given our meager preparations. I was dead anyways, and that knowledge made me more confident in what we were doing, as strange as it may sound.
After my dad died, I was never angry. My mom was, for sure; she blamed the police for botching the investigation, when in fact there was absolutely no evidence for them to use. I had understood. My dad had been murdered, yes, but without a perpetrator I had not been able to direct any anger I might have felt.
Now it was different. I wanted to confront this demon and rip its eyes from its sockets. I wanted to send it back to Hell, or send it there for the first time if it had never visited, and let it suffer for all eternity. I couldn’t know if my dad was the only victim. He probably hadn’t been. Most of the time, the demon tended to pray on men that had no children.
I’m not sure how it made a mistake with me. I just knew that the mistake would be its last.
I was sitting on my bed, surrounded by salt, holding a knife and a bottle of holy water with Jason and Richard waiting down the hall. They had closed the door, and to make themselves inconspicuous they were pretending to work on homework. In reality, they were waiting for me to call for help, if I needed it. I suspected I would.
Richard had dug deeper into his network of friends. He had spoken to a mother of a friend of a friend who owned an antique shop. She apparently owned a ceremonial dagger from the Middle Ages. She allowed him to borrow it for a price, so long as he brought it back in good condition. I don’t think she knew what we were using it for.
I felt the demon before I saw it. The room grew cold. I don’t mean chilly, I mean cold, like those walk-in freezers. Jason likened it to a cold room he had used during research. I don’t know anything about those, but maybe the analogy is useful for someone else.
It still scared me. The tall black figure with its truncated antlers was so unnatural, I figured I would never get used to seeing it. When it appeared in front of me and reached out a hand- I noticed now that the hand was covered in dry, cracked, human skin- I wanted to scream. I didn’t. I reached out my knife and stabbed it in the arm.
It didn’t flinch. The hand kept moving and grasped my neck. I could feel the dry skin shed and fall down the front of my shirt. I wanted to gag. The roughness of the hand drew blood. Instead of freezing up, I managed to open my bottle of holy water and toss it.
That did something. The demon let out this whine that I can liken only to an electronic device. It backed up, and I tossed more water on its face. The skin started to melt. I thought I had succeeded, but then bone began to surface from beneath, forming what looked like a grinning animal skull that was gnashing its teeth.
I screamed then. Richard burst into the room and threw his knife. Somehow it landed in the demon’s chest. That’s what did it, I think. It screamed so loud I thought I’d lose my hearing. My ears rang, and Richard was saying something to me, but my attention was fixated on the center of the room. The demon had tripped over a particularly large pile of salt. It was melting, taking the floor with it, like we had dropped a bottle of acid. There was a hole next to my bed.
I ignored what he and Jason were saying. I kept my eyes on the floor, watching the hole widen. It stopped, and when I finally turned towards my roommates, an RA was staring at us through the open doorway, frozen in place, fixated on the same thing that I had been.
He must have also noticed the antlers next to the hole.
The official report said nothing. It could not determine what had happened in the room. The RA didn’t believe our story. No other explanations emerged, though. I was told that no acid could eat through the floor as quickly as the demon’s remains had. Thank God Jason still had cameras up, because they showed exactly what had happened, though without the demon it just showed a hole opening up in the carpet.
Richard lost the knife and had to fork over a whopping two thousand dollars. He told us it was a bargain. The item had been priceless, most likely, and the woman could have bankrupted him for losing it.
I haven’t been haunted by anything since that incident freshman year. I started going to parties again. Jason moved on, pretending that none of it had happened, but Richard had a fantastic story to share with people. Most didn’t believe him. Some egged him on. A choice few took what he said too seriously, offering him other demon-hunting supplies. He laughed them off, saying the problem had been dealt with, so they instead came to me and explained the seriousness of my situation. I shook them off, too. What was I supposed to do? Start stockpiling ceremonial weapons and holy water?
I never told my mom. She wouldn’t have believed me. She didn’t hear about what had happened in the room, either. The footage showed us doing nothing, only me staring at a bunch of salt as it started dissolving the floor. None of us got in trouble. They didn’t even care that I had a knife sticking out of the wall. I guess they were too preoccupied with the rest of the scene.
I wish I could give you some dramatic conclusion, a fight that lasted for hours or an epic chase. On second thought, I’m glad I can’t describe that, but the truth is that what happened was pretty simple. I tossed some water and Richard threw a knife. That was it. The whole thing took thirty seconds at most.
It seems that most things in life are anticlimactic. An exciting movie, a first date, graduation- once it’s over, you’re left with a certain emptiness, like whatever you just did shouldn’t have ended so quickly. They say time flies (I hate that cliché), but it doesn’t. What happens is we expect things to be greater than they really are. We imagine some grand outcome, beyond what reality can provide us, and it almost never goes that way.
I can’t know for sure that I will be safe for the rest of my life. I only know that I’ve gotten through college unscathed so far. If there is another encounter, it won’t end well, because I won’t be prepared this time. It will be different, surely, a more dangerous monster or just a surprise attack when I least expect it. I definitely won’t write another story about it, because I’ll probably be dead.
If you hear about some university kid that dropped dead of a heart attack or washed up in a river, it will probably be me.
submitted by dogeman87 to nosleep [link] [comments]
2020.09.24 02:37 AligatorTears Hidden camera hard sex
If you've ever travelled overseas, you've probably experienced the shock of discovering that their are entire countries of people who have vastly different values and perspectives on life to you. I want to propose that there is a similar cultural divide between women and men, and it is a misunderstanding of this difference in cultural experiences that is the cause of most frustrations of communication across the gender divide. If you can apply the points I'm about to make to your daily life, you should notice not only an improvement in your romantic life, but in all of your interactions with the opposite sex. I know that's a big claim, and I plan to deliver. So buckle up because this is going to be quite a ride.
Now I want to clarify that I am talking about cultural differences between genders and not inherent differences between sexes. Boys and girls pick up cultural cues from their parents and studies have shown that parent responses to gendered play is a primary predictor for early gendered behavioral differences. This is important to mention because a lot of what I am going to touch on is based on English speaking cultural observations and does not necessarily translate accurately across every society. Societies will also have gender non-conforming individuals as well as people raised in alternative cultures, but a general understanding of the cultures men and women exist within will also help in understanding the experience of women and men who struggle to fit in amongst their own gender expectations.
From a young age, boys tend toward dramatic/destructive play and girls tend toward constructive/parallel play and this develops into how we each understand our hierarchical position amongst our peers as adults. In more concrete terms, boy break things and race each other. Girls talk and play that game where you clap your hands in complex patterns while singing the song that goes with it. As adults, men are in primarily adversarial relationships with other men and compete for dominance through establishing one-up/one-down interactions. Women compete for dominance through status which is established through relationships and support of the group.
Let's look at male/male interactions first. The one-up/one-down pecking order is fairly simple. In a context where social hierarchy is not yet established, men will seek to establish their position through one-on-one interactions that place one man above or below the other. Gone are the days of "my day could beat up your dad" or "last one to the fence is a loser", instead men will primarily compete to outdo each other on knowledge about a topic, telling better stories, or appearing more successful. A subtle one-upping comment might be "it must be so difficult for you trying to get by on a single income", and a defensive comment might be "oh no, we're actually doing quite well thanks to my investments and I'm getting to spend more time with the kids while I recover. I'll be back at work in no time." Notice that the one-upping comment could be taken to be an expression of sincere concern. Men will tend to read ambiguous comments like this as attacks rather than expressions of sympathy if they are coming from somebody they perceive to be aware of hierarchical competition (specifically other men). One of the common stereotypes is that men don't like asking for directions. Unpackaged further, men specifically dislike asking MEN for directions. A man who asks for help puts himself one-down in relation to the person being asked, and this is made more uncomfortable by it being a stranger where hierarchy is not established and there is an expectation that the person being spoken to will have awareness of the hierarchical implications.
Looking at other male/male interactions, another one-up/one-down transaction is in conversations about technical topics. Open any reddit post on any topic and you'll find male commenters will be the ones picking holes in an argument, questioning the validity of academic sources, and producing counter arguments. Even in conversations with experts in a field, men will establish a conflict of ideas and then allow the expert to display their authority on the matter through rebuttal. It is important to note that men who are engaging these one-up/one-down contests are often seeking to establish their position in a hierarchy, not necessarily trying to be the top of the hierarchy.
In situations where hierarchy is already established, such as a close friendship between men, there can also be discomfort if a man disrupts the hierarchy by saying something that puts himself one-down. A man who tells his friends that he feels incompetent and worried about his future will often be met with quick fix solutions and reassurances that he is fine rather than engagement about why he is having those feelings or sympathy for his situation. Even talking about how sad you are that your pet died can trigger a competing story about the respondent's pet who also died and how their grief was even worse, rather than sympathy for your loss.
Now Let's look and female/female interactions. Women establish hierarchy through connection and collaboration rather than one-up/one-down competitions. In the example of asking for directions, when a woman is asking another woman for directions it is a collaboration rather than a competition. The collaboration establishes a degree of connection and can often result in questions about what the visitor is doing in the area, a display of sympathy and understanding of what it is like trying to find your way around a new area, confirmation that this university/neighborhood is terribly designed and the roads make no sense.
So while women are also interested in establishing their position in a hierarchy of other women, they achieve this through connections and support of other women. Even their power plays are performed in the guise of connection building and collaboration. A woman who approaches another woman in a professional context and begins asking a lot of personal questions may be perceived as pushing for unearned intimacy and therefore be viewed as intrusive. This intrusive forced intimacy may be resisted because it implies a stronger connection than she is entitled to. Conflicts over intimacy levels between women will often be resolved through topic shifts and friendly banter. In group settings, women can perform power plays by displaying elevated status by displaying an intimate connection with a higher status woman.
One of the most potent examples of this power play is the shift from winter to spring fashion in an extended social setting like school or the workplace. There will generally be a group of women who are understood to be popular. Those within their in group will know the day that the benchmark group have decided will be the first day of spring. A woman who wears spring fashion before the popular group will demonstrate a degree of hubris which can negatively impact her social standing and result in social exclusion, but if she manages to guess the correct day to start wearing spring fashion then she has displayed insider knowledge and will have her social standing elevated as other women push to have close connections with high status women. Women who are not wearing spring fashion within a day of the popular group declaring spring to have sprung can face social isolation as they are displaying a disconnection from the high status women.
Many women dislike this competition just as many men dislike one-upmanship, but these are the methods that these relative cultures use for establishing hierarchy and a refusal to participate results in an assumption of low status in the larger group but can become the basis of identity in small anti-culture subcultures. Even these subcultural groups can eventually become defined by similarly gendered hierarchical structures as they grow in size.
So now that we have established a very basic understanding of intragender cultural engagement, it is time to get to the bit that is relevant to what most people reading this will want to know about: How does this affect communication between men and women?
Let's first look at how male assumption affect their approach to talking to women. So if a guy who hasn't thought about any of this is approaching a woman to try to get her number, he's going to be experiencing all the same internal problems of asking a stranger for directions, and then some. He's basically about to tell a stranger that he sees them as valuable (putting himself one-down) and then giving her the opportunity to go one-up by rejecting him. For a guy who is at a club on his own, being two down in a single interaction can feel devastating and it is enough to put him off ever approaching in the first place.
Of the guys who do approach, we've all heard the horror stories right? Guys who try to use negging to one-up the woman on approach as though insulting her to prop up their own ego is somehow going to make you seem more attractive. Worse, there are guys who will try to one-up the woman in the opener by framing their proposition like they are doing the woman a favor, and then they will lose their shit when she politely tells them "no" and call her every profanity they can think of in some desperate attempt to rebuild their own shattered ego that can't handle a simple rejection. Women have literally been murdered for being insensitive to a man's delicate feelings when turning him down. Maybe that particular reaction isn't especially common, but if you are approaching a woman, I can guarantee you she will be thinking about guys like that if you open the same way they do. What do you think a shit test is if it isn't a woman who's had some experience testing how you'll handle being one-down with a woman?
So what is the solution? It is simple. If you are cold approaching a woman, think about how your actions would be perceived in a female/female cultural context rather than a male/male cultural context. She's not looking to establish you as one-up or one-down. The conflict she is going to perceive is more a question of intimacy vs intrusion. If you come on too strong, escalate too early, ask too many questions or share too much about yourself early on then you are going to be perceived as intruding. If you try to win points with big stories and info dumps she may act interested while scanning the room for exists, or she may absolutely love it. But, if you try to one-up her when she shares a story or opinion, you may find that you are actually communicating a rebuke for intrusion followed by an alternate offer of intimacy. This can be confusing for her and if she wants to experience intimacy with you she will begin to feel that she has to sit quietly and listen to you monologue... if that gets boring for her, she won't grab the flood for herself and tell her own stories again, she'll instead withdraw intimacy and start looking for the exits again.
An additional suggestion is that a completely cold approach, while good for a low stakes skills practice, isn't the most effective method of seduction. Seduction works much better if you are already known to the woman and her friends as somebody who is desirable or high status. A woman's status is largely determined buy the relationships she forms. If you already have a high status position in a social group, then any woman who is wanting to improve her social standing in the group will display interest in you to her peers as a way of reinforcing her membership in the group, and may view being seen with you as a way of improving her status. In a situation like this, you then have to be mindful of protecting your own status because hooking up with low status women can impact your desirability just as much as hooking up with high status women can. This is where having a lot of female friends becomes useful. If you are constantly seen in the company of desirable women, that can improve your desirability with other women. Don't stress about being "in the friend zone". Just be a good friend and help your female friends improve their social status in the female hierarchy and the women who want to force an appearance of intimacy with your friend and going to be fighting for your attention.
Now let's look at some problems that face women who are approaching men. If you though men approaching women was hard, imagine trying to balance an internal intimacy vs intrusion paradigm when approaching somebody who is going to block your offerings of intimacy to point score because they are subconsciously trying to establish a hierarchy position while trying not to let on their surprise at being approached while also checking the room for hidden cameras. It is way easier to sit at the bar and wait for thirsty guys to come and show you magic tricks and insult your hair. She's going to be wading through sewage but at least she won't feel like she is intruding.
In heavily male dominated social contexts such as most corporate business encounters, women have a tendency to speak less than men but they are perceived by men as doing most of the talking. Part of this is that when they do talk, they are likely to need to spend more time establishing credibility to offset the fact that they will frequently interpret being one-upped to be a shut down of intimacy and will back off so they have to start from a disadvantaged position when they are given the floor because they don't have established credibility from shutting down their opposition and establishing credibility but interrupting other speakers. In addition, in order to simply be allowed to complete their statement without interruption the need to preface them with a statement of humility to acknowledge their low hierarchical status within the group such as "this is just an my opinion and I'm sure others may feel differently but...". All of this because they are have not been socialized to engage in this style of conversation.
Women who are wanting to break into male dominated contexts can benefit from being aware of the constant one-up/one-down battle men are engaging in during all of their interactions. It isn't often going to be culturally appropriate for women to pay this type of game and doing so inexpertly can have severe repercussions. To break into these types of context, it can be necessary to practice this style of one-up/one-down interaction with male friends and participating in the work culture in a more masculine way.
So just to recap:
Men and women establish hierarchies within same sex groups in different ways.
Men compete with each other to establish their individual merit and position in the pecking order while women establish intimacy to promote cooperative engagement.
Men can improve their strike rate with women by understanding how women will read the interaction and working to mirror and escalate levels of intimacy rather than trying to treat seduction as a competition or test of manliness, yet also taking steps to position themselves in high status positions in mixed groups to become socially desirable.
Women can improve their experience in male dominated fields by understanding the constant conflict that men are constantly subjecting each other to and participating in subtle one-upping behavior to establish dominance in the workplace in order to be taken seriously during key moments. It can also help to understand that what can feel like sexual discrimination and mansplaining is actually men treating you the same way they treat each other, and the acceptable response is to do the same thing right back without taking it personally.
Those who made it this far, congratulations!
Now I'd like to heard from you.
Would you like to have a manly one-upmanship contest by disputing any of the points I've made with a counterclaim or dismissive remark? I recommend attacking my excessive use of large words to sound clever or finding a single spelling error to mock to show I'm not as clever as I think. Referencing "studies" that prove me wrong without linking them is also a valid strategy for one-upping.
Is this information new or helpful to you? Does it make sense? Have you thought of a way you could apply it in your own approach?
Can you think of any personal situations of your own where you can observe this kind of gendered interplay resulting in a miscommunication? How would you handle that situation differently using this information to get a better result?
submitted by AligatorTears to seduction [link] [comments]
2020.09.23 18:44 JeSuisJosito LA MÁS DRAGA – AN ENGLISH GLAM-UP
Aló Pececitas! Next up, you’ll find out a very detailed review of La Más Draga’s 3x01, Hope you enjoy and if you want me to explain any special thing or regionalism you might not understand because you either don’t speak spanish or you do speak it but well, mexican slang…Enjoy!
00:00 – 3:10 – We see glimps at auditions for the season, from Queens who weren’t and were selected, towards the end we get a look at the Final Live Audition, where the public knowledge Queens are chosen to be a part of the season.
3:26 – 8:06 – Public knowledge Queens unveal themselves, they all chit-chat, talk and shade each other
8:07 – 13:43 – Secret Queens are revealed to the rest of the Cast. These Queens did not need to pass any Live audition, they were either asked to film an audition tape and were selected or their tape was enough for the producers to choose them.