Women getting groped videos

About me:
Nice to meet you! As the title states I’m 22 years old born and raised in Ontario. With that being said I’m looking for something within the country or online with the right person. I would prefer someone willing to relocate or at least visit on a regular basis, I will do as much as I can in return as well. I’m looking for a long term partner to start visualizing a future with you. My profession is within the military so my location varies depending on the posting. Currently, I will be moving to Saskatchewan as per my posting. If you’re someone that likes to move around this can be a bonus for you. My pass times include playing video games (WoW, valorant, and many single player games such as demon souls, dead island, skyrim etc), dedicating time to my studies, and having a good time with friends. I’m very open minded and wanting to get to know more people. If you’re interested in getting to know more feel free to send a dm! I am also looking forward to potential meets on here! Have yourself a good day! I’m also willing to swap pictures, SFW obviously.

These guys have been around awhile, I'm sure you've all seen one or two of their videos by now. They mainly focus on email marketing and guides on proper ways to build email lists and get continued customers. I'll be honest, consistently uploading beats to my youtube has built myself a little following on youtube, but essentially has gotten me no where.
I was thinking about signing up to their new package they just released today, has anyone else here tried their guidance and found some useful tips that are actually helping to grow your business?
Thanks!

I remember there was a women who poisoned the mother and the children to get together with the dad and there was a mystery on what really happened. Eventually, a new family moved into that house and the kids wanted to figure out the truth to what really happened and then one day the dead children from the attic possesses them to try and explain them the truth.. I remember on the wall it said I think "mushroom" but in a different language and I've been trying to figure it out for a bit now.

Back in 2016, I was working at a roadside diner west of St. Cloud, Minnesota. Neat little place, had a bit of a 60’s vibe to it, but without the hairdo. On the slow hours of the day, or whenever we just had locals around, I’d be humming along with the chefs playing radio out of the kitchen. It wasn’t an exciting time, but it was nice to have a workplace that felt like a second home.
A couple of weekends a month, we had an all-night crew to serve passing truckers. You usually never had to do more than one shift though, and we got to make own schedules. Our boss was pretty hands-off. It was during one of those shifts, at the first week of early summer, that my life took a turn for the worse – and I didn’t even realize it.

We were used to having the occasional odd customer during those hours of the day. When this guy walked in, I didn’t know what to think. He was about 6’2, bald, and pale as chalk. He wore this worn-out t-shirt that looked like it’d been on fire. With every step, he dragged his feet, and collapsed in one of our booths, seemingly exhausted.
I looked back at the chef, and he just shrugged. Guy wasn’t hurting anyone, but he didn’t look like he was all there. But a job’s a job, so I went up to him.
“You alright there?” I asked.
He looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then sunk his head back down, gently shaking it.
“Nah,” he said. “I, uh… I don’t think I am.”
He had this voice on the knife’s edge between a hysterical laugh and a howling cry. He was trembling.
“You need me to call someone?”
“Call?”
“Yeah, call someone.”
“How?”

I didn’t understand the question. I figured he was coming down from some kind of binge, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I asked the chef to get me a side of bacon to keep the guy calm while I called the police.
As I slid the plate over to him, he sunk his face into his hands, sobbing.
“T-thank you,” he cried. “I-I’m… please…”
I sat down across from him, instinctively reaching out to grab his hand. He let me. Even at a light touch, I could feel the scars on his palm and fingertips. Whatever’d happened to him, it must’ve been awful.
“I can’t go back,” he sniffled. “Don’t make me go back. I can’t. Please, I can’t.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s okay,” I smiled. “You’re safe here.”
“Can you help me?” he asked. “Can you keep him out?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I nodded. “Just eat up. It’s okay.”

His fingers trembled as he tentatively bit off a piece of bacon. His teeth were black, and he flinched.
“I need time,” he said. “I need time to run.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ve called for help.”
“I just… I just need time.”
We just sat there for a while. He calmed his breathing but kept staring out the window. I could tell he was looking for something – or someone. All I could see was a road and a handful of moths. We sat there for some time, in silence, as he carefully nibbled on the slices of maple bacon.
As two police officers entered the diner, he got up from his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of scrunched-up trash. A couple of singles, a plastic card, dirt, and something resembling animal bones. He tried to straighten out the bills, pushing them into my hands along with the laminated card.
“Just… I need time. I’ll come back. Please.”
I didn’t understand. I just nodded and accepted it. Seconds later, the officers asked him to step outside and explain the situation. I got busy taking orders from a couple of passing truckers, watching glimpses of the scene through the window. A couple of minutes later, the strange man was taken away.

My shift ended at sunrise. I dragged myself to my car with a yawn, shuffling around my pockets for the keys. I hadn’t thought much about the items he’d handed me, but I took a closer look. I’d thrown away the animal bones and dirt, but there were a couple of dollar bills and that laminated card left. I checked the card first.
It looked like some kind of bookmark. On one side it was completely white, and on the other side there were dried blue flower petals arranged in a spiral. Kinda reminded me of a sunflower. And finally, there were the dollar bills.
I didn’t pay much attention to these at first. Just a couple of singles. But after a closer look, I noticed something unusual. There was a man on the bill that I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple of google searches to realize that this man was Walter Mondale – the man who’d lost to Ronald Reagan’s second run for president back in ’84. Why was this man on a one-dollar bill?

Before heading to bed, I put the items down on my nightstand. In a moment of silent wonder, I looked out the window. What had that man been looking for? What’d he been running from?
There was nothing out there.
Just a couple of moths.

Waking up the next morning, I had a full day off. I spent it cleaning my apartment, watching movies, having dinner with a couple of friends, and ending the night with a couple of drinks at the pub down on the corner. No binge or anything, just got a bit boozy. I was still gonna be in bed by midnight.
I took the scenic route home; a long walk. All the way down main street, past the lake. I took a shortcut through the park by the final stretch, speeding up a bit. That place was trouble.
As I hurried by the fountain, I spotted someone in the distance. A shrouded figure at the edge of the streetlights. I stopped to observe for a second, but as I did, the lights flickered. Coming back on, the figure was gone.
I chalked it up to imagination. I was a bit drunk, after all. Besides – it was small, like a child. What the hell would a kid be doing out at this hour?

A couple of days passed. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but I kept coming back to that distressing feeling of missing something important. Looking back at it now, I just feel dumb. He was there all along. Outside the supermarket. In the parking lot. Off the highway. Hell, he was outside my window at night sometimes, but just too short for me to spot.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
It wasn’t until one morning when I was driving to work that I got a clear view of him. I was crossing a four-way street, taking a sharp left turn, when I had to throw myself on the breaks. There was a kid in the middle of the street.
I hadn’t seen him that clearly before. He was probably around 6, maybe 7 years old. Wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of light blue canvas pants. Short black hair, dark eyes, and no shoes. That particular detail stuck with me. No shoes? Why?
I almost lost control, but I was lucky. There wasn’t much traffic, and I managed to stop further down the road. There were black lines in the pavement from my screeching tires swerving back and forth. Regaining my composure, I looked in the rear-view mirror.
The kid was gone.

But that was just the start.
I’d spot him every now and then. Looking out the window at work. At the gas station. A passing face in the crowd when shopping for groceries. Every now and then, something would pull on my attention, forcing me to whip my head around, looking for the source of that ill feeling crawling up my spine. Sometimes I saw him. And even worse – sometimes I didn’t.
I remember lying awake at night, hearing moths tap against my window. There was nothing else. Nothing outside. I patrolled my apartment six times, checking every window. I’d looked everywhere, and there was no reason for me to feel the way I did. I was growing paranoid.
And yet, in the morning, my front door was unlocked, and slightly open.

It all came to a head one afternoon when I was out on my smoke break. I’d barely slept for the past three nights, and you could kinda tell I was having a bad day. As I stood there, leaning against the side door of the diner, I see the kid again. This time just across the road, maybe 50 feet or so away. I’d had enough. This had to end.
I was furious. I stormed forward, calling him out with every slur and curse I could think of. I was psyching myself up. I was in the right, and I refused to be harassed anymore – kid or not. Didn’t matter. I crossed the road, barely dodging a speeding jeep, and met him face-to-face.
“What the hell do you want?!” I’d yell. “Why are you following me?!”
He was completely expressionless. He didn’t even flinch, no matter how much I pointed or screamed. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, like a porcelain doll head on a swivel.

I wasn’t thinking about the bystanders though. A couple of middle-aged men stepped up, asking in no kind terms what the hell was wrong with me. I was held back and restrained. Someone called the police. Someone else called my manager – I’d forgotten to take off my apron, so they could see the diner logo. A couple of people filmed it. One of the videos got like 120k views in a day before it fell off the map. I still see it as a react gif sometimes.
It was a disaster. After a couple of officers came by to talk to me, he’d just disappeared into thin air. The officers took me down to the station – not to detain me, but to get me away from the heated crowd. That car ride downtown sobered me up to what the hell was going on. I was being stalked by this kid, but there wasn’t a living soul out there that would believe me.
Well, maybe one.
Maybe.

I was asked a couple of questions and released within about half an hour. They told me to go home and sleep this whole thing off. That wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have a job to go back to anyway, according to the (many) texts I’d gotten. I had all the goddamn time in the world.
I was just about to leave when something came to mind. The two officers who’d picked me up were still waiting by their car when I turned back to them.
“Sorry, you picked up the guy I called in about at the diner, right?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“You got any idea what happened to him?”
The two looked at one another for a moment, shrugged, and turned to me.
“Didn’t have any ID and gave a fake name. I think they took him to psych.”
“Psych?”
“Well, he was saying some, uh… strange things. There were interviews with a, uh…”
The two quieted down and flashed me a smile.
“There’s not that much we can say.”

Coming home, I decided to get to the root of this. It didn’t take me that long to find the place where the guy’d been taken; there aren’t a lot of mental health facilities in this part of the country. Especially facilities that accept involuntary subjects.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the strange dollar bills he’d given me, resting neatly on my nightstand. They were so detailed. A bit old, sure, but that only made them seem more genuine. What the hell was he doing with a handful of clearly fake dollar bills? Like, what’s the purpose? There had to be a purpose.
That unnerved me.

I managed to arrange a meeting. It wasn’t easy, and I think a lot of it boiled down to the police having no idea what could make this guy talk. For some reason, he kept providing them with false information. Maybe a familiar face, for one reason or another, might make him talk.
Just a couple of days later, I was putting my items in a metal bowl on the second floor at a mental health institute in the next town over. I asked one of the nurses if I could keep one of my dollar bills. Apparently, that was okay.
I was shuffled through a couple of locked doors and escorted to an off-white side-room. No décor, no locks. The guy was already there.

He’d been dressed down into these neutral eggshell-white garbs. It was strange seeing him in a lit-up room like this. I didn’t know what to expect.
Getting a closer look at him, he was probably in his 50’s. It’d been hard to tell earlier. I couldn’t get over just how pale he was; it was almost a complete lack of pigment. It looked sickly. His thin arms didn’t help – he looked malnourished. And yet, he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello to you too,” I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“I’m… I’m pretty good,” he nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat down across from him and took out the dollar bill he’d given me.
“I wanted to ask you about this.”
“For the bacon,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, was that not enough?”
“No, it’s…”
I took a moment to compose myself. I had too many questions.

He sighed, took the bill, and looked it over. Looking back at me, I could tell there was something painful stirring in his mind. His smile slowly faded.
“Sorry,” he said. “I try to forget sometimes. It’s easier than making sense of it.”
“Let’s start with something simple,” I nodded. “Like… your name. Where you’re from.”
“Those things are pretty far from simple.”
He was looking straight through me; his eyes sinking back to deeper, more uncomfortable thoughts.

His name was Samuel, and he was born around these parts in back in the 1970’s. He’d worked as a telecommunications specialist out of St. Cloud back in the 90's. He had a wife, three children, and a four-bedroom house.
“But it… that was all before, see?” he explained. “Then it all just…”
“Just what?” I asked. “What happened?”
He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth, looking for the right words to come out. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying again.
“It started with the street preachers,” he said. “Hundreds of them, marching on every city. All saying the same doomsday shit as always. World was dying. All coming to an end.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Then there were storms,” he continued without skipping a beat. “Some would last for weeks. Others longer. Entire cities would be flooded or torn apart. Earthquakes causing monster waves along the east coast, sending shockwaves all the way to mainland Europe. Then, Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Lights out.”

Samuel was painting this apocalyptic vision of a world undone. Catastrophe after catastrophe. Hooded people marching the streets, screaming for the mercy of a mad god. But there was more to it.
“Then things stopped making sense. It’s as if the rules changed,” he continued. “Roads would stop leading home. Trees would change color. People turned twisted and corrupted. Like… one of our neighbors couldn’t eat anything but gunpowder. There was a woman just down the street who tried to kill anyone wearing glasses. It was… pandemonium.”
I didn’t say anything. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, but he was trying his best to keep his rambling coherent.
“The plants died. Trees too. The only thing that could grow in that environment were these twisted blue things that popped up out of nowhere. But people… people are what got twisted the most.”
He told me of these towering 7-foot-tall humanoid creatures that roamed the forests. Black as night – not even reflecting light. Arms reaching all the way to their knees. Elongated, inhuman things that all used to be someone he knew.

“The doomsayers all said the same thing,” he continued. “That God was a scared little boy, and that he was dying. Everything that was happening was just an expression of that ceaseless, bottomless, existential grief.”
Samuel looked back and forth, finally burying his face in his hands.
“It all broke down. Roads stopped leading anywhere. No power. No water. Julie changed. Ollie changed. Tobie made himself a mask and wandered off into the woods. Ira just… disappeared. And for… years? Has it been years? It’s just been me.”
“But you’re here, now,” I said. “And what you’re describing, it… it didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” he insisted. “Just not… here. But here.”
He tapped his finger on the single dollar bill.
“Somewhere, somehow, I must’ve taken a wrong turn. I slipped through something broken, and now I’m here. And… and he’s coming to bring me back. He doesn’t want anyone to leave.”
“Who?”
“Just! Just…” he chuckled. “Just a sad little boy who’s been told he’s going to die.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat with him for a while, holding his hand.

Before I left, Samuel got up from his chair. He looked at me, forcing himself to smile.
“If I go back, I’ll try not to… to be like them. I’ll try. And… and I’ll be the one to say something.”
He let out a painful little laugh, shaking his head.
“Maybe just a… hello.”

I left that day with more questions than answers. I couldn’t picture the world he’d lived through. Then again, how could it be true? None of it had happened. But what was he gaining from lying about it?
That was the last time I saw Samuel. A few days later, he went missing, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing on the cameras – no one entering or leaving the building. No quick escapes, no clever plans. He’d just walked into his room and disappeared. Nothing left but a couple of moths fluttering about.
And for a while, that was it. That was the end of the story. I got busy looking for a new job, and all the little items given to me by Samuel was put away into a little box in my glove compartment. Life soldiered on, and no matter how many questions I had, there was no one around to answer them. Even the strange kid that’d been following me was, seemingly, gone.

A couple of months later, I was driving home from a friend’s place. I stopped at a four-way street, waiting for a couple of trucks to pass, when there was a knock on the passenger side window. I almost choked on my own spit. Scared me half to death.
Looking out, I could see that kid again. I hadn’t seen him for some time, and I quickly bounced between curiosity and downright anger.
“What do you want?” I yelled out.
There was no response. Instead, the door just opened. It’d been locked. As he opened the door, he pointed to the glove box.
“You want his things?” I asked. “Is that it?”
He nodded. I wanted to lash out, but there was something telling me I shouldn’t. Instead, I reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pointed to the box.
“Just take it and leave me alone,” I said. “Get it over with.”

He reached in and grabbed the box. So much effort for a couple of mementos. I turned my head back to face the road. The kid backed out. But of course, I had to get the last word in.
“Not even a thank you, huh?”
That made him pause. He looked at me, tilting his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, a moth fluttered out. Then another. And another.
Then – darkness.

What happened next is hard to describe. My memory of it is fragmented. It’s like trying to watch a buffering video, where long stretches of it are just nothing – but you know something was supposed to happen in-between.
Blink. I was sitting in my car. There was a dark blue sky. No clouds, no stars. Figures in the distance. An open field with blue flowers bending to a howling wind. A powerful stench of ammonia stinging my nostrils. Something to my immediate left, ripping the car door straight off the hinges.
Blink. Running. Ruins of a town. It seemed familiar, but there was barely anything left. My leg was bleeding. I was being followed. No matter where I turned, or where I ran, I seemed to end up at the same intersection.
Blink. A three-story building, brimming with life. Glimpses of arm-long antennae through the broken windows. Clickety-clack of bursting wings tapping against crumbling concrete. A loud warning shriek as something rubs its legs together; a call for prey.
Blink. Hiding in a tipped-over trash container. The rain has stopped in mid-air. Raindrops held in indefinite suspension. I suck water drops out of the air to quench my thirst. My hands are shaking from the blood loss.

Countless little images. Some in order, some not. I have no idea how much time passed. In the moment, it must’ve been much longer than I can remember. Days. Weeks, even. There’s no way to tell.
Blink. Walking through a barren field. It feels like walking through a dead forest, but there are no trees. Only those willingly impaled and wailing.
Blink. An abandoned booth by a broken highway. A sign offers phone calls, in exchange for “real teeth”. There are six sizes of pliers hanging on a wall within. All are bloodied – even the small ones.
Blink. The church that had burned down the night before had reappeared. The people inside, too. They couldn’t leave. Tonight, they would burn again.

Somewhere in this nightmarish puzzle-pieced fragment of nothing, there was a constant drive in me to get away. To get out. I knew that if I’d gotten there, I could get back home again. I just had no idea how. Maybe finding the kid. Asking. Begging. Something.
The last fragment of memory from that space was being cornered in a cellar. They were banging on the door. I’d tipped over a wardrobe to keep them out, but they weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop. I couldn’t let them kill me again – not like that.
One of the Changed ones were coming. I don’t know what that means, or how I know the name, but I knew of it. There was a mirror, and I could see the signs. It stepped out. Seven feet tall, black as night. Elongated arms and neck. Barely a body at all – just a void space vaguely shaped like the remnants of a person.
Except this one felt… familiar. It was the first one to speak.
“H E L L O.”

Blink. Running. A cold hand. If I squeezed too hard, my fingers went straight through it. I had to keep up. He was showing me something.
Blink. They were flooding over the school bus, tipping it by their sheer numbers. Eruptions from the sewer grates. They were famished.
Blink. An open field. Sunflowers facing me, no matter where I turn. It’s not far.
Blink. I look back, as I’m pushed over the edge. He looks just like the rest of them. They aren’t angered by his betrayal.
They feel nothing, as I fall.

In February of 2017, I was found by the side of the road. I’d been gone for months. My car was too. I came back with nothing but the clothes on my back and countless scars. I’ve been told that I didn’t make any sense at first; I was just rambling nonsense. Or maybe it just sounded like nonsense to these people.
Over time, I forgot more and more of these fragmented images. And the less I remember, the more I can move on. Still, I’ve written them down over time, and they paint an ugly, insane picture of what I’d been going through. Some of which I, myself, have a hard time believing. Then again, I know myself well enough to see that there’s no point in lying.

I haven’t seen Samuel, or that strange kid ever since. I think this is all over, for now. There’s nothing left for me to give.
But even now, years later, I still wake up to that feeling at night. That there’s something wrong, or that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something near that I’m looking straight through, or past.
And every now and then, I hear the flutter of a moth’s wing, tapping against my bedroom window.
And I think I know what it wants.
It wants me to go back.

I don’t get it, sure I’m probably not ugly at this point but it’s like there’s no fucking winning
Half of these matches look like bots and have just left me on read or responded with like uninterested few word answers. I’ve got likes but it’s like no matter how much I swipe it seems like I never match up with them at once.
It just feels fake and hollow it’s fucked dude what the fuck is the point of this shit bro.
I can’t seem to just meet women irl without already having something in common like a club or work or school or something.
And that’s weird if you do that coz if you get rejected or make them uncomfortable then the whole social circle or club you’re in knows
I’m not just gonna cold approach coz that shit is weird and impolite, people shouldn’t be bothered just going about their day
It’s like tf am I supposed to do at this point?
Really?

I am a 20 y/o student, living alone and this is my very first post in this sub. There was a time I got bullied in school and sports club. I have a difficult relationship to my parents. I was never able to talk to them about my problems, I was silent instead. My mother was very controlling and patronizing. My father only cared about my school grades.
After a long time of self reflection I realised, that I'm seriously suffering from:
-social anxiety: I'm often trying not to behave awkwardly, because I care too much what people think about me and I feel watched many times. I have problems approaching stranger people. Also, I often feel caught in normal situations, for example when someone is entering the toilet and I'm styling my hair in the mirror. I'm getting a bit sweaty and my heart pumps. I have these problems especially when interacting with women.
-porn addiction: it literally slows down my life. My dopamine level is constantly low in phases of watching porn (rn I'm trying to beat this stupid habit). It isolates and destroys my social life. I'm not getting my things done and porn changed my view of women. I'm very ashamed of this, ashamed of sexulizing women. And I really don't want this any more.
-depression: tbh I think depressions are the result of the problems I mentioned above. Negative thoughts only come, when I'm alone at home for a longer periods of time. Times of feeling hopeless and helpless.
If you have come until here, thank you for your time🙏. Can anyone understand me? Does anyone have advice? 👇

in her recent video she has a little baggie of medicine and says it’s Gravol, Imodium and lactate, my question is girl how often are you getting an upset stomach that Imodium is necessary to carry around with you at all times in your purse ☠️😂 it’s for diarrhea relief 😂😂😭

Here's a little poll to get your opinion on the AESTHETIC quality of season 3, including music choices, video editing, and costumes.
I loved Colin and Penelope. The problem lies with the editing and the script choices, like the Mondrich storyline, which feels pointless.
Please don’t debate whether you like the Polin couple or not, that’s not the question here. Just rate the overall artistic quality.
We only have the first part, but since it was all filmed together, I don’t think the editing quality will improve.
You can enjoy the first part while hating the aesthetic quality and some of the script choices, like I did. One doesn’t rule out the other.
View Poll

The lights in the hospital’s waiting room buzzed incessantly. The floor was freshly bleached from last night's cleaning. A lady in the middle of her third trimester sat with her husband near the entrance. She could feel a headache beginning to come on.
Her husband was flipping through a magazine he found on the rack near the middle of the room. His deep brown eyes scanned its pages, and his brows were furrowed.
“Jack,” she said, “are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing at her. “Why?”
“You seem mad, is all.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“Oh. I don’t know. You just look; it is all,” she said, placing her hand on the rim of her belly.
“Trust me. I’m not mad,” he said, flipping to another page.
“Well, we were lucky Mrs. Carter let me work a little overtime for this, huh?” She adjusted herself on the seat cushion.
“We are.”
“It only took two months of scrimping by, but we got our reservation, didn’t we? I mean, how many parents, you know, get to see their child before they’re really here?”
“Not many. That’s for damn sure,” he replied.
Her husband closed the magazine and stood up to go get another one.
“Could you get me one?” she asked him.
“They don’t have anything you would like.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Alright.”
She looked at him from behind and thought he would be a good father. The baby kicked the wall of her belly, and she chuckled. She could overhear the conversation between one woman and another near their seats.
“This is my second time,” one of the women said. “Second?” the other asked.
“Carlos and I came in when I was at the beginning of my second trimester. You know what they say. The earlier you come, the less accurate the reading is.”
“What happened?”
“Our daughter is going to be beautiful. That we know for certain, but around her early twenties, she goes to prison. For murder.”
“What. Really?”
“Yeah. But again, we came early in the pregnancy. We haven’t been able to sleep since that reading. So, we set up another appointment much later. My date is a month away, so the reading should be pretty accurate,” the first woman said.
“What are you going to do if the reading is the same?”
“What most parents would. We can always try again for another.”
The woman’s stomach did a somersault, and her eyes searched for the nearest waste bin, but the feeling subsided when her husband came over and handed her a magazine.
“Thank you, hon’,” she said, swallowing.
“You alright, Em?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little nausea.”
“You going to throw up?”
“Only if you keep talking about it,” she said, looking up and closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down. This was the one I thought you would find most interesting.”
She opened her eyes and glanced down at the magazine in her lap. It was a magazine about car parts and overall car maintenance.
“Thank you. I just needed something to pass the time.”
“No problem. How long have we been waiting for? It feels like we have been here forever. I must’ve read every magazine on that rack by now,” he said, smiling.
The woman pressed her thumb and middle finger at her temples.
“Jack?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think he will turn out alright?”
The man looked at his wife’s stomach, and his smile faded.
“I am sure he will turn out fine,” he said, grabbing her hand.
She felt a little better now. His words always seemed to soothe her when she needed it most. Though, she felt stupid asking the question she had asked him a thousand times.
“What if he’s an astronaut? Or finds the cure for cancer?”
“If our kid finds the cure for cancer, the doctors will make sure he is born. Whether we want him or not,” he said, laughing.
She only smiled, and it was faint.
“You do want him, right?”
“What?” he asked. She could see his cheeks flush. “Of course I do; why would you ask that?”
She apologized for asking the question. Her eyes darted to the door where the nurse would appear and call people names.
“Why would you ask that?” he asked again.
“I am sorry. I already apologized. I’m just flustered. Pregnancy. It does things to you.”
Her husband’s expression loosened, and he opened the next magazine he grabbed.
The woman skimmed through hers without really reading anything. Motors are for sale, and the “Eight Easy Steps to Keep Your Car’s Battery” did nothing for her.
The door near the front desk opened, and the nurse called her name. Her husband sat up promptly and helped her from her seat. As they walked toward the smiling nurse, the only thing she could think about was the future.

That song is playing.
I’ve wasted too many days sitting and waiting for you to change how you treat me.
I’ve been sitting outside your gate for hours now. Looking like an idiot. My brakes need to be fixed. That’s my excuse for sitting here. “Too nervous to drive.” But I need to go to Montana.
If I hadn’t had all my money stolen, I’d be dead now. Next time i will make sure you cannot get to me in time to save me.
I want my ice cream cone now. I paid for it. Bring it to me. And I want that flash drive with our videos you made.
I want you. I want to turn back time. I want the old you. Before you saw how ugly I truly am. I want to see you again the way I once did…before I saw your ugly.
One last shot, because it’s all I have. Then I’ll be gone. I’ll even delete my Reddit account. I’ll block you. I won’t help you with court. I will not wish you a happy birthday. I promise. I hope you have a miserable life without me.

26 year old male, 5'8, 150lbs
No close friends in my state, but 3 in my home state, had to move for work and cannot move back as there are no jobs in my field.
Girl I loved broke up with me, still work with her, feelings come and go. Finding it hard. It's been 4 months. Recently nearly sacrificed my job to do something to save her losing hers due to her mistake, she doesn't know I did this as I still have feelings for her.
My dog passed away in Feb and I can't bring myself to get a new one. Miss her daily.
Not slept with any women, seems like everyone I know has, accidentaly let this slip a year ago at the office xmas party.
Wear very thick glasses to see due to defect. Also wear 1 hearing aid, which nobody can see.
Slim and not strong, fast runner and working on lifting daily.
$125K in the bank, on 5% interest yearly.
Stable job for life, earning $75k a year. No room for progression in my career. Save $25k a year.
Batchelors and Masters degree.
Would someone want to be in my shoes or am I a failure? I feel like one.

Description: “An elevated version of a "wash and go" with a cleanse, clarifying treatment and customized deep conditioner. Styling products are applied and curls are defined with a technique like shingling or finger coiling for a finished style.”
I saw that they were doing them this month with Pattern products so decided why not try it out.

1. The hair stylist was not a minority which is fine. If you’re well versed in hair I do believe all of your stylists should be trained to style women of color if they are given the appointment.
   
2. She was really nice and the wash and conditioner was great.
   
3. My curls were styled with a light cream and I have 4b-c hair. Which obviously didn’t work. My hair didn’t fit under the hood dryer.
   
4. I came in with a fro and left with a softer fro with very little to no curl definition. Also she didn’t put a part in my hair until I asked her to 😩
   

Lesson for me? Don’t get a wash and go at ulta 😂
Lesson for ulta? When you advertise a service for women of color be sure that your stylists are trained in knowing what products to use when styling based on hair type. Thanks for the deep conditioning though

I’ve been exhausted for years now. Even if I sleep 12 hours a night, I’m ready for a Napf when I get home from work, and fall fast asleep again when I go to bed. I’m exhausted constantly. My doctor haven’t been able to find anything (try eating healthy and don’t use your phone before sleep has been the only suggestions, which I already do).
I’ve been looking into iron deficiency, and it seems like the symptoms match, except hair loss.
So, I’m thinking of trying fixing it with iron. But, what supplements should I get? I know I won’t be able to get enough through diet alone, so supplements are a must.
Should I get something for pregnant women (in a very much not pregnant guy), since a lot of the iron supplements are for these people? And how much should I take? I’ve read taking it every other day is better in terms of uptake, is that true?
How long should I expect before seeing results? And how do I figure out why I’m deficient (if I am) in the first place?

Is it wrong that I'm (F21) feeling kinda down about the fact that my gf (F22) kinda only speaks and has people in her life that she's had feelings for or been overall flirty with?
She has this one friend who she confessed her feelings to and this friend is very touchy with her and always saying inappropriate things which I really try to shake off, my gf also agreed that it was wrong but she doesn't really do anything about it. When she went to visit her family, she hung out with her friends, this friend climbed over her lap when there was so much space to go around, touched her leg when speaking, asked if she would kiss her (which my gf said is a joke but still yk) slept in the same bed together, and the friend went to cuddle with her and then said "probably shouldn't do that anymore" none of this I would've known if my gf didn't send me a photo of a video and in the frames my gf was kissing her hand so I asked about it, she replied "LMAO" and said how she did it first and something else I can't really remember but her reply really made me feel worse than what happened and only then did she feel bad about it, then she suddenly remembered all this other stuff.
She has another friend who she had feelings for, who she met around the same time as me and I'm kind of the back up to this friend (she would've dated her if she would've liked her back) She once said to a friend the friends name > my name
She has another friend who both him and her confessed feelings towards each other and she interacts with him quite a bit, and it's usually when we are not together.
There possibly is more but these are the main ones I would say. I don't know, a part of me thinks I'm being stupid and reacting to something that shouldn't be an issue, because I really don't care who she interacts with, it just sometimes hits me that it is really only people who's she had feelings for at some point. Maybe it's because it's regular communication I don't know?
It also reminds me of something she said when we first started dating about how she would find it disrespectful for a partner to speak to people they've liked or dated.
I don't feel this way all of the time, like I said it's just randomly after something triggers it and to be honest I don't know exactly what the feeling is, I just know it makes me feel a little bad. I love my girlfriend more than anything and I know she loves me, I'm just not sure if this is something I should waste my time on, talk to her about or get over it alone.
What do you think?

My Experience with CompTIA PenTest+ (PTO-002) Exam
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Initial Practice Test

• Took a practice test before starting to study and scored 35%
• Noted that many questions were related to various tools and their command-line switches

Study Approach

• Used Dion's "CompTIA PenTest+ (PTO-002) Study Notes" as a guide
• Identified key topics to focus on: nmap, Metasploit, mimikatz, Bash/python scripting, and reverse shell
• Watched short YouTube videos on each topic
• Created a matrix of tools by category
• Downloaded and used nmap and Metasploit on my home network
• Created scripts in python and bash
• Reviewed study notes line by line and took notes on unfamiliar topics
• Used practice exams and flashcards to reinforce learning

Additional Resources

• OWASP website for code examples and remediation techniques

Exam Experience

• Performance-based questions (PBQs) were different from practice exams
• PBQs covered content from study materials
• Tool-related questions required high-level understanding and categorization
• Nmap required more in-depth knowledge

Study Time and Tips

• Spent 22 days studying, 3 hours per day
• Felt adequately prepared for the exam
• Important to note bold, italic, or underlined words and phrases in questions
• Different versions of the exam may have different questions

I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any further questions.

I’m not putting mine or my husbands ages due to conflicting opinions (Sorry this is long)
We have been together for 6 years and are for the most part pretty happy His kids (f11) and (m9) are only here on a weekly rotation of Thursday - friday Friday-Sunday Thursday-Sunday Friday - Sunday My husband and I are both always home but I do majority of the housework and cooking while looking after our toddler. He does a lot of studying and research and he does whatever yard, vehicle and Howe maintenance (which isn’t much by the way) The problem is the step kids come here and they get everything they ask for, they don’t really respect me and they have tablets and video games that they play whenever they want. The only chore they have is to put away laundry that I’ve already washed, folded and placed on their beds for them. This weekend they came here (yesterday) and his daughter had 4 days worth of clothes on her bed to put away because she brought them all back from her moms at once. The problem is that they played in her room after school, then had dinner, played video games, and she never put the clothes away, and then at bed time she just placed them on her chair and in the morning my toddler moved them into the floor because she wanted to sit there. The older one got mad because they got unfolded and stuff so I told her she should have put them away. And she got mad at me and rolled her eyes
Besides sometimes putting a couple pieces of laundry away they don’t have any other chores around the house. Every time I bring it up to my husband he says we can implement more chores and then leaves it at that and it never happens. They only JUST started rinsing their dishes after meals but that’s it. So am I the a-hole because I think they’re old enough to do chores.

Any recommendations for how to get the best sound out of the HTA-7000 for classical music listening? I'm streaming Apple Music through an Apple TV 4K, or using Airplay. The sound (whether just music listening, or streaming concerts with video also) seems designed for movies - very bright, goosed for high and low frequencies, and lacking in the middle, just the opposite of what I need for classical music listening. There's no EQ on this beast from what I can find. And Sony Support just had me play with the height/volume etc. of the speaker settings, which makes little difference.
I like my Sony headphones (XM4) for classical, but I can fine-tune with the EQ. There doesn't seem to be anything like that on the sound bar

First of all, I am playing Gold/Plat league. I agree this strategy sucks at high level play but it is pretty strong in lower League. I tried this build order in ladder you would be surprise how effective it could be against people in lower league and I have never played English before in ranked.
7 on sheep and 4 on gold which is similar to King 2TC fast castle guide. The difference is you don't stop mining gold after you have 200 gold. "The nameless Guy" chose to do deer opening, but in my experience. Sheep is enough for me to go naked castle. ( Maybe I might just be lucky).
Prioritize mine 600 gold after reach Feudal first, because by the time Their Knights coming, you can safely gather sheep under the TC.
Your King should Harass his base non-stop. The moment he chose to build a tower, the odd favors you because he won't be able to produce many units.
When you get all the res to age up, pull "all" your villagers. Yes I mean all your villagers. It's an all in strategy, I don't see any points making sense leave villagers in your base. Around 25-28 Villagers. The next thing you do is to use you king to distract your opponent. I have won a game where the Japanese player choose use his spears chasing my king, by the time my villagers arrives, It was too late for his troops to return to defend.
WT position should cover a woodline which you need to build lumber camp for Rams, and WT range the on edge of his TC that way it can protect your rams to take down his TC.
I do believe this strategy is underrated and there are ways can work around with this strategy. From beasty's video, he scouted his opponent not gathering stone, or all villagers on gold. But I guess maybe you can bait your opponent into thinking I am gonna go 2TC? What if I build a mining camp on purpose next to the stone but not gather it? RTS game is about mind game and strategy. Ironically, the matches I won, my opponent didn't even scout my base to see which res I am gathering.
It is true that my opponent has units and I would be in a very bad position. But the fact is that you will have to respond it very quickly. For example, if his troop in the center of the map, but you villagers already by pass it, he won't stop the WT drop. Beasty already agreed that defending is a lot hard than people who executing this strategy. Not everyone in the ladder know how to defend even though they know, they won't be able to do it efficiently as Beasty does.

Hi there! I’m Pumpkin/Storm! Today I’m hoping to find literate, 21+ 3rd person roleplayers to do MxM romance plots set in the following universes:
Back 4 Blood Bee & Puppycat Big Time Rush (show) Dan vs Demon Slayer Disenchantment Disney (various) Dragon Ball Z Game of Thrones Inuyasha Inside Job (Netflix) Komi Can’t Communicate My Hero Academia Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated Scott Pilgrim (comic) Star vs the Forces of Evil The Owl House TMNT (2012+AUs) Total Drama Yugioh
All characters will be aged to 21+
I am OCxCanon/double friendly and can do any gender pairing for your side! I do prefer roleplaying with women/people who are LGBTQ+, but this isn’t a requirement.
~Rules~ 1. Please be literate. No text talk or bad grammar (minus OOC chatting). 3rd person only. I don’t expect massive novella responses, but your replies should be detailed and show effort. 2. Please be relatively active. I understand we all have busy lives, however if you ghost or aren’t around for long periods of time, I am not the partner for you. If you aren’t feeling our plot or want to part ways, just communicate! I also sometimes have a terrible memory, so if it’s been more than a few days, (politely) nudge me! 3. Because every plot will be 21+, I am asking that you also be 21+. When you reach out me, your age should be present somewhere in your opening message. 4. Please make your introduction more than “hi”, “wanna rp” etc. Your opening message should state where you are coming from, your age, what you are interested in, writing samples (not required, but certainly a bonus) etc. Messages with little effort will be ignored. 5. Let’s have fun and be friends! Let’s chat OOC and talk about our days! As much as I love roleplaying, I love getting to know my partners as well!
And I think that about covers it! If you’re interested, please shoot me a PM and we can discuss specifics! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day!

I’m rewatching the show right now, and am on season four. Seeing Healy’s flashbacks again and hearing about his mother made me wonder about her mental illness.
From the flashbacks, we learn that she sees things that aren’t there. His father says that only women can get the disease, and a bully in his childhood called his mother a lesbian, which caused Sam to ask if his mother was one. Given how people viewed being a lesbian at the time, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were being treated for that, but that doesn’t sound quite right. Obviously, that wouldn’t explain why she sees things that aren’t there. Does anyone have any idea what she might have, or why the first thing that kid in Sam’s class concluded was that she was a lesbian? It doesn’t make sense to me with the context we have.