Skribbl.io is the name of a virtual version of Pictionary that players in a Zoom meeting can partake in together. To play, share your Zoom meeting ID with the rest of the players, then enter your ... Skribbl io is a cool doodling game where players have to guess the right word through the drawings. It might be difficult to understand at first, but it will be easy once you get used to the suggestions. See, that’s what the app is perfect for. Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna Skribbl.IO Word sets 41.6K Reads 2 Votes 2 Part Story. By wildboio Ongoing - Updated Nov 14, 2018 Embed Story Share via Email Read New Reading List. made a whole bunch of custom words for y'all to use so you can just copy and paste instead of typing out a whole bunch. custom; customwords; skribbl; words; Skribbl.io is the name of an io game of drawing and guessing of words. The objective in this rather io game is to make a guess of the word picked by the chosen player to make a drawing of the picture. On you finding the word, you’re free to write down in the guessing part and gain points or try out your chances a second time. Skribbl.io is a free online drawing and guessing game where you can draw, guess and grow all together. One game consists of a few rounds in which every round someone has to draw there choosen words and other players called Scribblenauts has to gain points. The last player with the highest points crowed to be as the winner. Skribbl.io. Pumking.io. 26 mins ago Leave a comment 864 Views. Pumking.io will be an amazing game for the gamers to play on Halloween day. In this great Halloween-themed first-person shooter game, you control a cute pumpkin-like character around the map and you must use your unstoppable gun to shoot down all enemies standing in your way before ... Draw and guess secret words in Skribbl.io! This thinking game lets you play Pictionary with friends. When you are the artist, you can use different colors to draw the clue. Then, everyone will try to guess what's in the picture! Karen, took, my, fricking, kids, :(. Sorry I didnt make any custom word lists but I also want to find some and use them. Maybe we can try to make a Minecraft list at least. 57 votes, 10 comments. anal, anus, apeshit, ass, asshole, baby juice, ball kicking, ball licking, ballsack, ball sucking, bangbros, bdsm, big black …
2020.10.20 04:16 Temporary_Scratch_14 Spy toilet camera video
Statue of Liberty
Winnie the Pooh
Finn and Jake
ice cream truck
Phineas and Ferb
Yin and Yang
Tower of Pisa
pot of gold
Sydney Opera House
Leonardo da Vinci
betray HUH SO HARD
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2020.10.12 16:52 gravy816 Toilet spy camera video
I stepped back from the keyboard. Sex trafficking. This wasn't a TV show...this was a scam....and everyone thought I was dead.
Three days prior:
"I did it! I'm going to be a contestant on Passion in Paradise!" I yelled into the phone. I could hear Melanie, my best friend, rolling her eyes. "It's a new competitive dating show in Cabo!"
"How can you be on a show like that Jess? It's so shallow and manipulative! It's so fake and over done! It's so...not you."
She was right. Passion in Paradise was a new show coming next season on ABC or whatever where 20 single women compete for the man of their dreams in a villa in Cabo. Did I think I was going to find "the one"? Hell no. Was I willing to act like for a free trip to Cabo and free publicity and fame? Hell yes.
I talked to Max, the producer, that morning and he said that I flew out in 2 days because filming began immediately. "Tell your family tell your friends about the show! We want to get as much publicity as we can out there. Your life is about to change," We were also told to take two months off of work for filming and publicity tours.
Time moved fast. One minute I was packing in my small apartment and next thing I knew I landed in Cabo and was met at the airport by Max and his small team. We waited around for a few hours until all the other 19 girls had landed and then we loaded up onto a small bus and drove to our new temporary home to meet our hunk.
The villa was breathtaking. It had old red stone, vines running up the side, and a certain calmness. We filed off the bus and met outside of our new castle. We were forced to give any cell phones or electronics to Max, there was zero communication allowed with the outside world.
"Here's the deal ladies, we got three floors in the house. First floor is your basics, kitchen, 2 living rooms, 2 bathrooms, pool and pool house, laundry room. Second living quarters. There are 4 rooms and 20 of you. After tonight two of you will be going home so no need to unpack," he barked at us like he was reading off orders to a kitchen. He had three other strong and large men with him setting up cameras and lights. None of them looked at us or even tried to make small talk.
"Two of us are going home tonight?!" a chirpy and feminine voice yelled from the back.
"The cameras ain't rollin' sweetheart, we don't need the theatrics," Max continued, "Third and top floor 100% off limits. Do you understand? This is where our hunk will be staying along with crew and storage for equipment. If we see anyone up there you will be sent home immediately. Ruins the ambiance. Also cameras are always rolling. We will begin recording in a few hours. You signed up for the world to see, now show 'em. Any questions?...Good. Now start getting ready, tonight is formal wear."
I ended up picking "The Purple Room" with four other girls: Bella, Savannah, Lauren, and Molly. "I don't mean to be rude, my name is Jess. Is it okay if I take a shower first? It will only be like 5 minutes," I asked to my roommates. "Yeah girl no worries!" they all responded. Each room had a bathroom with a shower. Once I stepped out of my steaming shower I feeling refreshed and ready, I picked a beautiful strapless black dress, super tight on top and on the bottom. I went over to a red head named Molly, I figured I wasn't there to make friends, but I can at least be friendly.
"Hey girl would you mind zipping me up please?" I asked. "Not a problem," she smiled as she started closing my dress. "Where are you from?" I inquired staring ahead at the wall. Molly began, "I live in Iowa! I sell real estate out there. I am so excited to meet our hunk tonight!" I almost forgot why we were all here in the first place.
"Oh yeah girl!!" I learned that if you call everyone "girl" you don't have to learn everyone's names. We were left upstairs for an hour until we heard shouting to come outside. This was not as glamourous as I thought.
"Okay ladies. Now we're going to take your picture, so the hunk can use them in the eliminations. Line up and one by one give me a nice pose and you can meet the crew,"
"This is the director Eric, another producer named...uh.. Joe, and this is Ben, he handles any problems and is the host." All of them looked like they could beat someone to death.
Eric began filming, which was odd because I always thought there would be a herd of camera operators for these types of shows, but then again there were cameras placed throughout the house.
Ben walked over to greet us. He had a huge smile on his face, opposite of Max, the director, and the producer. Ben was carrying a tray of champagne flutes. "Good evening ladies! Whose ready for champagne?" Every girl lifted their head back and gave a powerful "woo!".
"Okay ladies. Now we have to take cast pictures. Cast pictures equals champagne. Line up and as soon as the producer Joe here snaps your photo I'll give you a glass of champagne. That easy right?!"
I was the second to last one. Nobody tells you how much down time there is on reality shows. One by one girls were trickling over to Ben after their pictures were taken to collect their reward. Bella, one of the girls from my room walked over to me. She was smiling and holding her drink. We were chatting with two other girls. Bella sneezed sending a large portion of her champagne on my arm. "Oh shit dude! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "No worries girl, it just got on my arm. I'm going to go dry off, I don't need to be sticky," I assured Bella. I had plenty of time before my picture so I quietly went into the house. I walked up to the second floor and stepped inside the bathroom.
I reached for a washcloth in the small basket on top of the toilet lid. I put a little bit of water on it and began rinsing away the champagne. I placed the washcloth back on top of the lid next to the basket.
The washcloth slipped and fell behind the toilet due to the curvature of the lid. I let out a small "Fuck" and bent down and extended my arm behind the neck of the toilet. I felt a cold plastic cable running from the floor to the toilet bowl. I am not a plumber, but something seemed off. These were the types of cables that you find in your living room. I lift the lid and found a small cable running to a small black box with a blinking red light. I raised the seat on the toilet and right beneath the rim was a small button sized lens. My heart began to race.
"Please don't let this be what I think it is..." I looked closely and realized it was a small waterproof camera angled up perfectly to spy on anyone using the toilet.
I walked over to the shower. I examined the head until I found a similar lens underneath the shower head, perfectly capturing anyone taking a shower. I had it. I felt sick to my stomach, were these sick fucks watching us shower?
I ran outside and stormed right up to Max. "What the hell is going on!?" I screamed into his face. The entire team stopped what they were doing and looked over. A smirk ran across his face. "What's the matter?" I turned towards the group of girls starting to swarm us.
"There are cameras in the bathroom!" I screamed and frantically threw my hands up. Max let out a huge laugh, "Of course silly, you're on TV. You signed up for this." I looked around at the mixed expressions on the girls, but no one made a sound. "Doesn't this bother you?! They are spying on us and taking videos of us naked in the shower!"
Ben spoke with a calming voice, "We have sensors on the cameras in the bathroom. In the contract you agreed to be filmed and one of the locations was in fact the bathroom. If three or more of you go into the bathroom then the cameras automatically turn on. It's in your contract."
"That's insane!" I yelled to the small audience. No one said a word.
Finally Molly finally spoke up, "I don't have a problem with it. We did sign up for this." Other girls began nodding their head. "You see Jess? You are blowing this out of proportion. Nobody else is bothered, why don't you have a glass of champagne," Ben offered. His smile was kind and comforting.
I reached for a glass. I wasn't in the mood to drink so I stood silently in line for my picture. An hour went by and no one talked to me. I was the last one in line to take my picture. I looked around at the beautiful girls drinking champagne and looking fabulous. None of them seemed bothered by what was going on. I don't belong here I thought.
"Come on!" Eric yelled holding the camera, "you're the last one!". As I approached the producer we heard a loud puking sound. We turned our heads and a black haired girl was on the ground a few yards away from me clutching her champagne glass vomiting.
"She's having a seizure!" I heard another scream. I turned the other direction and saw a small group of girls collapsing and shaking on the ground. A couple of girls went over to help. A few more girls at the other end of the driveway began to hit the floor and started vomiting as well.
Everything was happening so quickly, yet time was still. I was frozen as I watched in horror. I looked to my left and saw Molly. She was turning blue and swaying in her heels. She puked as chunks covered her dress as she reached for her throat. Her eyes starting rolling into the back of her head until you couldn't see any color. She fell backwards and hit her head on the pavement letting out a small stream of blood from her nose.
I looked to my right and saw another girl from my room scratching violently at her arm until her nails were tearing off little pieces of skin. Blood was trickling out of her, dripping from her fingertips as she just stood there unaware of what she was doing.
The "camera guy" and "producer" were walking over to a few unconscious bodies. The men dug into their pockets and pulled out zip ties and began tying the girls up one by one. Max was watching the chaos with a huge smile. I realized I was the only one that didn't have champagne.
"You idiot! You didn't dose this out right!" Ben shouted to Max.
There were only a few women left standing, they began running towards the bus. I knew it was no use. They began wobbling and sure enough they started vomiting blood and passed out within inches of the vehicle.
Through all the commotion, I was able to silently retreat back into the villa. There was a small path from the driveway to the front door. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to go somewhere to think and process.
I went up to my room on the second floor, I had a small window that looked down on to the driveway. I ran up the stairs, and silently crawled over to the window. I slowly raised my head and saw the "director" going around zip tying the almost lifeless girls. All 19 of them were on the ground with their eyes closed and either dry puke or blood on their face and clothes.
Max was loading the girls into a separate van that was parked a few yards away. He picked up the limp bodies and carefully set them down like they were dry cleaning.
"Look at the set of tits on this one!" the producer Joe yelled over to the director as he began groping the unconscious woman's breasts.
"Don't touch the merchandise!!" Eric barked back. "Oh my God," I let out quietly under my breath. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I was watching a movie, but living. it.
They probably took the phones to the third level I told myself. I can call for help from up there.
I quickly and as low to the ground as possible went back over to the grand staircase. I began climbing, not knowing what I was getting myself into. On the top floor there were only two doors facing each other. One door said "Hunk" and the other said "No Trespassing". I walked over to the "No Trespassing" door praying it was unlocked. I reached my hand out to the knob and it released with ease.
Inside looked like a scene from a police station. There were about 24 monitors on the wall showing every live feed as well as controls and a desk in the corner. I looked at monitors 4-7 and could see the four guys setting the girls in the van in the drive way. I looked over to cameras 11 and 12 and saw the bathroom where I got ready. I looked down at the controls, which were pretty self explanatory.
I selected camera 11 which was facing down on the shower in our bathroom. I hit rewind to 5 hours ago and sure enough I saw myself showering. You were able to see every inch of my naked body.
I looked back at the first set of screens to confirm that the four guys were still out there. They were, but soon they would realize they only have 19 girls, instead of 20.
I looked back towards the wall and one screen had a small red light in the corner blinking. I scanned over to the monitor and turned the volume up. It was playing CNN with some anchor interviewing someone who looked like Ben the host and it had flashing text reading "LIVE" running across the bottom. I pressed rewind to the beginning of the broadcast. "23 U.S. Citizens Dead from Bus Accident in Cabo" read the headline "For those of you just joining us, we are here with Ben Malcom creator of Passion in Paradise. Now Ben can you explain to us what happened?"
Ben looked distraught, "Good evening Diane I am the creator of Passion in Paradise, a new show we wanted to bring to TV this fall. We flew 20 beautiful, young, and smart women out here with 3 crew members to begin this romantic journey. We don't have a lot of information right now, but as we began shooting and the shuttle bus flew off a hill killing everyone on board," the screen cut to some b-roll action of a bus on flames in the bottom of a canyon. "I was able to meet each and every girl and this is a horrific loss. We are sending prayers to their families and trying to make arrangements to send some sort of relief to their grieving families. We are fully cooperating with authorities, but this was an honest accident and we are personally looking into this case".
The screen flipped back to the reporter. "We are joined now by one of the deceased's closet friends, Melanie. Melanie are you there?" Oh no. No, no, no. Please no.
My best friend Melanie appeared on the TV crying and talking to a reporter outside of her apartment. "I begged Jess not to go! And now I will never see her again!"
Everyone thinks we're dead!! My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a small ding go off on the main computer on the other side of the room.
I walked over to the work station and sat down at the desk. A web page called "Passion in Paradise" was open. On it were the pictures of each girl that were taken at the beginning of the night. Dollar amounts were next to every name. Molly had $10,000, another girl had $3,000 which was climbing to $3,400 and then $3,750. The prices next to all the girls' names varied from $500 to $15,000 and were climbing. I looked for my name, under Jess it said 'picture pending'.
"What is this?" I said quietly to myself. I clicked on Molly's picture and immediately a slideshow began playing. The first picture was her casting photo from earlier that night, next was a screenshot of her changing in our bedroom with just her bra and panties on. I flipped again and there was a picture looking up as she was sitting down to use the toilet, you could see everything from the waist down. I went back to the main page and clicked on Savannah's profile. I began flipping through her pictures and it was the same story. It looked like a catalog of every female I had encountered in this house.
I clicked back, went to the home page saw in the top left hand corner a tab that said "Total Bidders Online: 84". I scrolled down the list and saw dozens upon dozens of usernames. I clicked on a name: User2949 and under the banner it said "Chat". I began typing:
You: HELP!!! Please! I don't know what's going on!! I think this is some sort of mistake.
User2949: I'm interested in Bella. How much for one night? I know your price said $2,500. But I like to rough my girls up. What if I give you $15,000 and I get to keep her???
I clicked out of the chat. I went to User110.
You: PLEASE!! HELP ME! We are in a Villa in Cabo, nobody is dead!
User110: I love redheads, what is the status on Molly? I think she would make a fine addition to my collection.
I stepped back from the keyboard. Sex trafficking. This wasn't a TV show, there was never a hunk. This was a scam.
I checked the monitors and I could only see Eric, Joe, and Ben outside still piling the women up. I looked around the room for any sort of weapons. I didn't know where Max was and I needed to get out of there. There was still one place I hadn't checked- the "hunk's bedroom". I slowly and quietly slipped into the hallway and prayed that the door would be unlocked.
Sure enough, I was able to open to door and flipped on the light. There was nothing in the room except a dirty mattress on the floor. I walked over and prayed that there might be a knife or anything I could use to protect myself.
The door slammed, I turned and saw Max staring at me. He looked hungry and wild. "I knew you were going to be trouble. Now, let's see how much that pussy is really worth."
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2020.10.03 13:05 MilkbottleF Toilet spy camera video
The Resurrection of the Flesh [Tr by Roses] These first two tales published in Secret Weavers: Stories of the Fantastic by Women Writers of Argentina and Chile, edited by Marjorie Agosin (White Pine Press, 1992):
She was thirty-two, her name was Aurelia, and she had been married eleven years. One Saturday afternoon, she looked through the kitchen window at the garden and saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. Men of the world, those four horsemen of the Apocalypse. And good-looking. The first from the left was riding a sorrel horse with a dark mane. He was wearing white breeches, black boots, a crimson jacket, and a yellow fez with black pompoms. The second one had a sleeveless tunic overlaid with gold and violet and was barefoot. He was riding on the back of a plump dolphin. The third one had a respectable, black beard, trimmed at right angles. He had donned a gray Prince of Wales suit, white shirt, blue tie and carried a black leather portfolio. He was seated on a folding chair belted to the back of white-haired dromedary. The fourth one made Aurelia smile and realize that they were smiling at her. He was riding a black and gold Harley-Davidson 1200 and was wearing a white helmet and dark goggles and had long, straight, blond hair flying in the wind behind him. The four were riding in the garden without moving from the spot. They rode and smiled at her and she watched them through the kitchen window.The Perfect Married Woman
In that manner, she finished washing the two teacups, took off her apron, arranged her hair and went to the living room.
"I saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden," she told her husband.
"I'll bet," he said without raising his eyes from his paper.
"What are you reading?" Aurelia asked.
"I said they were given a crown and a sword and a balance and power."
"Oh, right," said her husband.
And after that a week went by as all weeks do--very slowly at first and very quickly toward the end--and on Sunday morning, while she made the coffee, she again saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden, but when she went back to the bedroom she didn't say anything to her husband.
The third time she saw them, one Wednesday, alone, in the afternoon, she stood looking at them for a half hour and finally, since she had always wanted to fly in a yellow and red dirigible; and since she had dreamed about being an opera singer, an emperor's lover, a co-pilot to Icarus; since she would have liked to scale black cliffs, laugh at cannibals, traverse the jungles on elephants with purple trappings, seize with her hands the diamonds that lay hidden in mines, preside in the nude over a parade of nocturnal monsters, live under water, domesticate spiders, torture the powerful of the earth, rob trains in the tunnels of the Alps, set palaces on fire, lie in the dark with beggars, climb on the bridges of all the ships in the world; finally--since it was sadly sterile to be a rational and healthy adult--finally, that Wednesday afternoon alone, she put on the long dress she had worn at the last New Year's party given by the company where her husband was assistant sales manager and went out to the garden. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse called her, the blond one on the Harley-Davidson gave her his hand and helped her up onto the seat behind him, and there they went, all five, raging into the storm and singing.
Two days later her husband gave in to family pressure and reported the disappearance of his wife.
"Moral: madness is a flower aflame," said the narrator. Or in other words, it's impossible to inflame the dead, cold, viscous, useless, and sinful ashes of common sense.
If you meet her on the street, cross quickly to the other side and quicken your pace. She’s a dangerous lady. She’s about forty or forty-five, has one married daughter and a son working in San Nicolas; her husband’s a sheet-metal worker. She rises very early, sweeps the sidewalk, sees her husband off, cleans, does the wash, shops, cooks. After lunch she watches television, sews or knits, irons twice a week, and at night goes to bed late. On Saturdays she does a general cleaning and washes windows and waxes the floors. On Sunday mornings she washes the clothes her son brings home—his name is Nestor Eduardo—she kneads dough for noodles or ravioli, and in the afternoon either her sister-inlaw comes to visit or she goes to her daughter’s house. It’s been a long time since she’s been to the movies, but she reads TV Guide and the police report in the newspaper. Her eyes are dark and her hands are rough and her hair is starting to go gray. She catches cold frequently and keeps a photo album in a dresser drawer along with a black crepe dress with lace collar and cuffs.The Unmistakable Smell of Wood Violets [Tr by Womack] Translated for the first time in Ann and Jeff Vandermeer's Big Book of Science Fiction (Vintage, 2016):
Her mother never hit her. But when she was six, she got a spanking for coloring on a door, and she had to wash it off with a wet rag. While she was doing it, she thought about doors, all doors, and decided that they were very dumb because they always led to the same places. And the one she was cleaning was definitely the dumbest of all, the one that led to her parents’ bedroom. She opened the door and then it didn’t go to her parents’ bedroom but to the Gobi desert. She wasn’t surprised that she knew it was the Gobi desert even though they hadn’t even taught her in school where Mongolia was and neither she nor her mother nor her grandmother had ever heard of Nan Shan or Khangai Nuru.
She stepped through the door, bent over to scratch the yellowish grit and saw that there was no one, nothing, and the hot wind tousled her hair, so she went back through the open door, closed it and kept on cleaning. And when she finished, her mother grumbled a little more and told her to wash the rag and take the broom to sweep up that sand and clean her shoes. That day she modified her hasty judgment about doors, though not completely, at least not until she understood what was going on.
What had been going on all her life and up until today was that from time to time doors behaved satisfactorily, though in general they were still acting dumb and leading to dining rooms, kitchens, laundry rooms, bedrooms and offices even in the best of circumstances. But two months after the desert, for example, the door that every day led to the bath opened onto the workshop of a bearded man dressed in a long uniform, pointed shoes, and a cap that tilted on one side of his head. The old man’s back was turned as he took something out of a highboy with many small drawers behind a very strange, large wooden machine with a giant steering wheel and screw, in the midst of cold air and an acrid smell. When he turned around and saw her he began to shout at her in a language she didn’t understand.
She stuck out her tongue, dashed out the door, closed it, opened it again, went into the bathroom and washed her hands for lunch.
Again, after lunch, many years later, she opened the door of her room and walked into a battlefield. She dipped her hands in the blood of the wounded and dead and pulled from the neck of a cadaver a crucifix that she wore for a long time under high-necked blouses or dresses without plunging necklines. She now keeps it in a tin box underneath the nightgowns with a brooch, a pair of earrings and a broken wristwatch that used to belong to her mother-in-law. In the same way, involuntarily and by chance, she visited three monasteries, seven libraries, and the highest mountains in the world, and who knows how many theaters, cathedrals, jungles, refrigeration plants, dens of vice, universities, brothels, forests, stores, submarines, hotels, trenches, islands, factories, palaces, hovels, towers and hell.
She’s lost count and doesn’t care; any door could lead anywhere and that has the same value as the thickness of the ravioli dough, her mother’s death, and the life crises that she sees on TV and reads about in TV Guide.
Not long ago she took her daughter to the doctor, and seeing the closed door of a bathroom in the clinic, she smiled. She wasn’t sure because she can never be sure, but she got up and went to the bathroom. However, it was a bathroom; at least there was a nude man in a bathtub full of water. It was all very large, with a high ceiling, marble floor and decorations hanging from the closed windows. The man seemed to be asleep in his white bathtub, short but deep, and she saw a razor on a wrought iron table with feet decorated with iron flowers and leaves and ending in lion’s paws, a razor, a mirror, a curling iron, towels, a box of talcum powder and an earthen bowl with water. She approached on tiptoe, retrieved the razor, tiptoed over to the sleeping man in the tub and beheaded him. She threw the razor on the floor and rinsed her hands in the lukewarm bathtub water. She turned around when she reached the clinic corridor and spied a girl going into the bathroom through the other door. Her daughter looked at her.
“That was quick.”
“The toilet was broken,” she answered.
A few days afterward, she beheaded another man in a blue tent at night. That man and a woman were sleeping mostly uncovered by the blankets of a low, king-size bed, and the wind beat around the tent and slanted the flames of the oil lamps. Beyond it there would be another camp, soldiers, animals, sweat, manure, orders and weapons. But inside there was a sword by the leather and metal uniforms, and with it she cut off the head of the bearded man. The woman stirred and opened her eyes as she went out the door on her way back to the patio that she had been mopping.
On Monday and Thursday afternoons, when she irons shirt collars, she thinks of the slit necks and the blood, and she waits. If it’s summer she goes out to sweep a little after putting away the clothing and until her husband arrives. If it’s windy she sits in the kitchen and knits. But she doesn’t always find sleeping men or staring cadavers. One rainy morning, when she was twenty, she was at a prison, and she made fun of the chained prisoners; one night when the kids were kids and were all living at home, she saw in a square a disheveled woman looking at a gun but not daring to take it out of her open purse. She walked up to her, put the gun in the woman’s hand and stayed there until a car parked at the corner, until the woman saw a man in gray get out and look for his keys in his pocket, until the woman aimed and fired. And another night while she was doing her sixth grade geography homework, she went to look for crayons in her room and stood next to a man who was crying on a balcony. The balcony was so high, so far above the street, that she had an urge to push him to hear the thud down below, but she remembered the orographic map of South America and was about to leave. Anyhow, since the man hadn’t seen her, she did push him and saw him disappear and ran to color in the map so she didn’t hear the thud, only the scream. And in an empty theater, she made a fire underneath the velvet curtain; in a riot she opened the cover to a basement hatchway; in a house, sitting on top of a desk, she shredded a two-thousand-page manuscript; in a clearing of a forest she buried the weapons of the sleeping men; in a river she opened the floodgates of a dike.
Her daughter’s name is Laura Inés, her son has a fiancée in San Nicolás and he’s promised to bring her over on Sunday so she and her husband can meet her. She has to remind herself to ask her sister-in-law for the recipe for orange cake, and Friday on TV is the first episode of a new soap opera. Again, she runs the iron over the front of the shirt and remembers the other side of the doors that are always carefully closed in her house, that other side where the things that happen are much less abominable than the ones we experience on this side, as you can easily understand.
The news spread fast. It would be correct to say that the news moved like a flaming trail of gunpowder, if it weren't for the fact that at this point in our civilization gunpowder was archaeology, ashes in time, the stuff of legend, nothingness. However, it was because of the magic of our new civilization that the news was known all over the world, practically instantaneously.submitted by MilkbottleF to shortstoryaday [link] [comments]
"Oooh!" the tsarina said.
You have to take into account that Her Gracious and Most Illustrious Virgin Majesty Ekaterina V, Empress of Holy Russia, had been carefully educated in the proper decorum befitting the throne, which meant that she would never have even raised an eyebrow or curved the corner of her lip, far less would she have made an interjection of that rude and vulgar kind. But not only did she say "Oooh!," she also got up and walked through the room until she reached the glass doors of the great balcony. She stopped there. Down below, covered by snow, Saint Leninburg was indifferent and unchanged, the city's eyes squinting under the weight of winter. At the palace, ministers and advisers were excited, on edge.
"And where is this place?" the tsarina asked.
And that is what happened in Russia, which is such a distant and atypical country. In the central states of the continent, there was real commotion. In Bolivia, in Paraguay, in Madagascar, in all the great powers, and in the countries that aspired to be great powers, such as High Peru, Iceland, or Morocco, hasty conversations took place at the highest possible level with knitted brows and hired experts. The strongest currencies became unstable: the guarani rose, the Bolivian peso went down half a point, the crown was discreetly removed from the exchange rates for two long hours, long queues formed in front of the exchanges in front of all the great capitals of the world. President Morillo spoke from the Oruro Palace and used the opportunity to make a concealed warning (some would call it a threat) to the two Peruvian republics and the Minas Gerais secessionist area. Morillo had handed over the presidency of Minas to his nephew, Pepe Morillo, who had proved to be a wet blanket whom everybody could manipulate, and now Morillo bitterly regretted his decision. Morocco and Iceland did little more than give their diplomats a gentle nudge in the ribs, anything to shake them into action, as they imagined them all to be sipping grenadine and mango juice in the deep south while servants in shiny black uniforms stood over them with fans.
The picturesque note came from the Independent States of North America. It could not have been otherwise. Nobody knew that all the states were now once again under the control of a single president, but that's how it was: some guy called Jack Jackson-Franklin, who had been a bit-part actor in videos, and who, aged eighty-seven, had discovered his extremely patriotic vocation of statesman. Aided by his singular and inexplicable charisma, and by his suspect family tree, according to which he was the descendent of two presidents who had ruled over the states during their glory days, he had managed to unify, at least for now, the seventy-nine northern states. Anyway, Mr. Jackson-Franklin said to the world that the Independent States would not permit such a thing to take place. No more, just that they would not permit such a thing to take place. The world laughed uproariously at this.
Over there, in the Saint Leninburg palace, ministers cleared their throats, advisers swallowed saliva, trying to find out if, by bobbing their Adam's apples up and down enough, they might be able to loosen their stiff official shirts.
"Ahem. Ahem. It's in the south. A long way to the south. In the west, Your Majesty."
"It is. Humph. Ahem. It is, Your Majesty, a tiny country in a tiny territory."
"It says that it is in Argentina," the tsarina said, still staring through the window but without paying any attention to the night as it fell over the snow-covered roofs and the frozen shores of the Baltic.
"Ah, yes, that's right, that's right, Your Majesty, a pocket republic."
Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov, some kind of councilor and, what is more, an educated and sensible man, broke into the conversation.
"Several, Your Majesty, it is several."
And at last the tsarina turned around. Who cared a fig for the Baltic night, the snow-covered rooftops, the roofs themselves, and the city of which they were a part? Heavy silk crackled, starched petticoats, lace.
"Several of what, Councilor Kustkarov, several of what? Don't come to me with your ambiguities."
"I must say, Your Majesty, I had not the slightest intention--"
"Several of what?"
The tsarina looked directly at him, her lips held tightly together, her hands moving unceasingly, and Kustkarov panicked, as well he might.
"Rep-rep-republics, Your Majesty," he blurted out. "Several of them. Apparently, a long time ago, a very long time, it used to be a single territory, and now it is several, several republics, but their inhabitants, the people who live in all of them, all of the republics, are called, they call themselves, the people, that is, Argentinians."
The tsarina turned her gaze away. Kustkarov felt so relieved that he was encouraged to carry on speaking:
"There are seven of them, Your Majesty: Rosario, Entre dos Rios, Ladocta, Ona, Riachuelo, Yujujuy, and Labodegga."
The tsarina sat down.
"We must do something," she said.
Silence. Outside it was not snowing, but inside it appeared to be. The tsarina looked at the transport minister.
"This enters into your portfolio," she said.
Kustkarov sat down, magnificently. How lucky he was to be a councilor, a councilor with no specific duties. The transport minister, on the other hand, turned pale.
"I think, Your Majesty...," he dared to say.
"Don't think! Do something!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the minister said, and, bowing, started to make his way to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" the tsarina said, without moving her mouth or twitching an eyelid.
"I'm just, I'm going, I'm just going to see what can be done, Your Majesty."
There's nothing that can be done, Sergei Vasilievich thought in delight, nothing. He realized that he was not upset, but instead he felt happy. And on top of everything else a woman, he thought. Kustkarov was married to Irina Waldoska-Urtiansk, a real beauty, perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of Holy Russia. Perhaps he was being cuckolded; it would have been all too easy for him to find that out, but he did not want to. His thoughts turned in a circle: and on top of everything else a woman. He looked at the tsarina and was struck, not for the first time, by her beauty. She was not so beautiful as Irina, but she was magnificent.
In Rosario it was not snowing, not because it was summer, although it was, but because it never snowed in Rosario. And there weren't any palm trees: the Moroccans would have been extremely disappointed had they known, but their diplomats said nothing about the Rosario flora in their reports, partly because the flora of Rosario was now practically nonexistent, and partly because diplomats are supposed to be above that kind of thing.
Everyone who was not a diplomat, that is to say, everyone, the population of the entire republic that in the last ten years had multiplied vertiginously and had now reached almost two hundred thousand souls, was euphoric, happy, triumphant. They surrounded her house, watched over her as she slept, left expensive imported fruits outside her door, followed her down the street. Some potentate allowed her the use of a Ford 99, which was one of the five cars in the whole country, and a madman who lived in the Espinillos cemetery hauled water all the way up from the Pará lagoon and grew a flower for her which he then gave her.
"How nice," she said, then went on, dreamily, "Will there be flowers where I'm going?"
They assured her that there would be.
She trained every day. As they did not know exactly what it was she had to do to train herself, she got up at dawn, ran around the Independence crater, skipped, did some gymnastic exercises, ate little, learned how to hold her breath, and spent hours and hours sitting or curled into strange positions. She also danced the waltz. She was almost positive that the waltz was not likely to come in handy, but she enjoyed it very much.
Meanwhile, farther away, the trail of gunpowder had become a barrel of dynamite, although dynamite was also a legendary substance and didn't exist. The infoscreens in every country, whether poor or rich, central or peripheral, developed or not, blazed forth with extremely large headlines suggesting dates, inventing biographical details, trying to hide, without much success, their envy and confusion. No one was fooled:
"We have been wretchedly beaten," the citizens of Bolivia said.
"Who would have thought it," pondered the man on the Reykjavík omnibus.
The former transport minister of Holy Russia was off breaking stones in Siberia. Councilor Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov was sleeping with the tsarina, but that was only a piece of low, yet spicy, gossip that has nothing to do with this story.
"We will not allow this to happen!" Mr. Jackson-Franklin blustered, tugging nervously at his hairpiece. "It is our own glorious history that has set aside for us this brilliant destiny! It is we, we and not this despicable banana republic, who are marked for this glory!"
Mr. Jackson-Franklin also did not know that there were no palm trees or bananas in Rosario, but this was due not to a lack of reports from his diplomats but rather a lack of diplomats. Diplomats are a luxury that a poor country cannot afford, and so poor countries often go to great pains to take offense and recall all the knights commanders and lawyers and doctors and even eventually the generals working overseas, in order to save money on rent and electricity and gas and salaries, not to mention the cost of the banquets and all the money in brown paper envelopes.
But the headlines kept on appearing on the infoscreens: "Argentinian Astronaut Claims She Will Reach Edge of Universe," "Sources Claim Ship Is Spaceworthy in Spite of or Because of Centuries-Long Interment," "Science or Catastrophe?," "Astronaut Not a Woman but a Transsexual" (this in the Imperialskaya Gazeta, the most puritan of the infoscreens, even more so than the Papal Piccolo Osservatore Lombardo), "Ship Launches," "First Intergalactic Journey in Centuries," "We Will Not Allow This to Happen!" (Portland Times).
She was dancing the waltz. She woke up with her heart thumping, tried out various practical hairstyles, ran, skipped, drank only filtered water, ate only olives, avoided spies and journalists, went to see the ship every day, just to touch it. The mechanics all adored her.
"It'll work, they'll see, it'll work," the chief engineer said defiantly.
Nobody contradicted him. No one dared say that it wouldn't.
It would make it, of course it would make it. Not without going through many incredible adventures on its lengthy journey. Lengthy? No one knew who Langevin was anymore, so no one was shocked to discover that his theory contradicted itself, ended up biting its own tail, and that however long the journey took, the observers would only perceive it as having lasted minutes. Someone called Cervantes, a very famous personage back in the early years of human civilization--it was still debated whether he had been a physicist, a poet, or a musician--had suggested a similar theory in one of his lost works.
One autumn dawn the ship took off from the Independence crater, the most deserted part of the whole desert republic of Rosario, at five forty-five in the morning. The exact time is recorded because the inhabitants of the country had all pitched in together to buy a clock, which they thought the occasion deserved (there was one other clock, in the Enclosed Convent of the Servants of Santa Rita de Casino, but because the convent was home to an enclosed order nothing ever went in or out of it, no news, no requests, no answers, no nothing). Unfortunately, they had not had enough money. But then someone had had the brilliant idea which had brought in the money they needed, and Rosario had hired out its army for parades in friendly countries: there weren't that many of them and the ones there were weren't very rich, but they managed to get the cash together. Anyone who was inspired by patriotism and by the proximity of glory had to see those dashing officers, those disciplined soldiers dressed in gold and crimson, protected by shining breastplates, capped off with plumed helmets, their catapults and pouches of stones at their waists, goose-stepping through the capital of Entre Dos Rios or the Padrone Giol vineyards in Labodegga, at the foot of the majestic Andes.
The ship blasted off. It got lost against the sky. Before the inhabitants of Rosario, their hearts in their throats and their eyes clouded by emotion, had time to catch their breath, a little dot appeared up there, getting bigger and bigger, and it was the ship coming back down. It landed at 06:11 on the same morning of that same autumn day. The clock that recorded this is preserved in the Rosario Historical Museum. It no longer works, but anyone can go and see it in its display cabinet in Room A of the Museum. In Room B, in another display case, is the so-called Carballensis Indentic Axe, the fatal tool that cut down all the vegetation of Rosario and turned the whole country into a featureless plain. Good and evil, side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Twenty-six minutes on Earth, many years on board the ship. Obviously, she did not have a watch or a calendar with her: the republic of Rosario would not have been able to afford either of them. But it was many years, she knew that much.
Leaving the galaxy was a piece of cake. You can do it in a couple of jumps, everyone knows that, following the instructions that Albert Einsteinstein, the multifaceted violin virtuoso, director of sci-fi movies, and student of space-time, gave us a few hundred years back. But the ship did not set sail to the very center of the universe, as its predecessors had done in the great era of colonization and discovery; no, the ship went right to the edge of the universe.
Everyone also knows that there is nothing in the universe, not even the universe itself, which does not grow weaker as you reach its edge. From pancakes to arteries, via love, rubbers, photographs, revenge, bridal gowns, and power. Everything tends to imperceptible changes at the beginning, rapid change afterward; everything at the edge is softer and more blurred, as the threads start to fray from the center to the outskirts.
In the time it took her to take a couple of breaths, a breath and a half, over the course of many years, she passed through habitable and uninhabitable places, worlds which had once been classified as existent, worlds which did not appear and had never appeared and probably would never appear in any cartographical survey. Planets of exiles, singing sands, minutes and seconds in tatters, whirlpools of nothingness, space junk, and that's without even mentioning those beings and things, all of which stood completely outside any possibility of description, so much so that we tend not to perceive them when we look at them; all of this, and shock, and fear more than anything else, and loneliness. The hair grew gray at her temples, her flesh lost its firmness, wrinkles appeared around her eyes and her mouth, her knees and ankles started to act up, she slept less than before and had to half close her eyes and lean backward in order to make out the numbers on the consoles. And she was so tired that it was almost unbearable. She did not waltz any longer: she put an old tape into an old machine and listened and moved her gray head in time with the orchestra.
She reached the edge of the universe. Here was where everything came to an end, so completely that even her tiredness disappeared and she felt once again as full of enthusiasm as she had when she was younger. There were hints, of course: salt storms, apparitions, little brushstrokes of white against the black of space, large gaps made of sound, echoes of long-dead voices that had died giving sinister orders, ash, drums; but when she reached the edge itself, these indications gave way to space signage: "End," "You Are Reaching the Universe Limits," "The Cosmos General Insurance Company, YOUR Company, Says: GO NO FURTHER," "End of Protected Cosmonaut Space," etc., as well as the scarlet polygon that the OMUU had adopted to use as a sign for that's it, abandon all hope, the end.
All right, so she was here. The next thing to do was go back. But the idea of going back never occurred to her. Women are capricious creatures, just like little boys: as soon as they get what they want, then they want something else. She carried on.
There was a violent judder as she crossed the limit. Then there was silence, peace, calm. All very alarming, to tell the truth. The needles did not move, the lights did not flash, the ventilation system did not hiss, her alveoli did not vibrate, her chair did not swivel, the screens were blank. She got up, went to the portholes, looked out, saw nothing. It was logical enough:
"Of course," she said to herself, "when the universe comes to an end, then there's nothing."
She looked out through the portholes a little more, just in case. She still could see nothing, but she had an idea.
"But I'm here," she said. "Me and the ship."
She put on a space suit and walked out into the nothing.
When the ship landed in the Independence crater in the republic of Rosario, twenty-six minutes after it had taken off, when the hatch opened and she appeared on the ramp, the spirit of Paul Langevin flew over the crater, laughing fit to burst. The only people who heard him were the madman who had grown the flower for her in the Espinillos cemetery and a woman who was to die that day. No one else had ears or fingers or tongue or feet, far less did they have eyes to see him.
It was the same woman who had left, the very same, and this calmed the crowds down at the same time as it disappointed them, all the inhabitants of the country, the diplomats, the spies, and the journalists. It was only when she came down the gangplank and they came closer to her that they saw the network of fine wrinkles around her eyes. All other signs of her old age had vanished, and had she wished, she could have waltzed tirelessly, for days and nights on end, from dusk till dawn till dusk.
The journalists all leaned forward; the diplomats made signals, which they thought were subtle and unseen, to the bearers of their sedan chairs to be ready to take them back to their residences as soon as they had heard what she had to say; the spies took photographs with the little cameras hidden away in their shirt buttons or their wisdom teeth; all the old people put their hands together; the men raised their fists to their heart; the little boys pranced; the young girls smiled.
And then she told them what she had seen:
"I took off my suit and my helmet," she said, "and walked along the invisible avenues that smelled of violets."
She did not know that the whole world was waiting to hear what she said; that Ekaterina V had made Sergei Vasilievich get up at five o'clock in the morning so that he could accompany her to the grand salon and wait there for the news; that one of the seventy-nine Northern States had declared its independence because the president had not stopped anything from happening or obtained any glory, and this had lit the spark of rebellion in the other seventy-eight states, and this had made Mr. Jackson-Franklin leave the White House without his wig, in pajamas, freezing and furious; that Bolivia, Paraguay, and Iceland had allowed the two Peruvian republics to join their new alliance and defense treaty set up against a possible attack from space; that the high command of the Paraguayan aeronautical engineers had promised to build a ship that could travel beyond the limits of the universe, always assuming that they could be granted legal immunity and a higher budget, a declaration that made the guarani fall back the two points that it had recently risen and then another one as well; that Don Schicchino Giol, the new padrone of the Republic of Labodegga at the foot of the majestic Andes had been woken from his most recent drinking bout to be told that he had now to sign a declaration of war against the Republic of Rosario, now that they knew the strength of the enemy's forces.
"Eh? What? Hunh?" Don Schicchino said.
"I saw the nothingness of everything," she said, "and it was all infused with the unmistakable smell of wood violets. The nothingness of the world is like the inside of a stomach throbbing above your head. The nothingness of people is like the back of a painting, black, with glasses and wires that release dreams of order and imperfect destinies. The nothingness of creatures with leathery wings is a crack in the air and the rustle of tiny feet. The nothingness of history is the massacre of the innocents. The nothingness of words, which is a throat and a hand that break whatever they touch on perforated paper; the nothingness of music, which is music. The nothingness of precincts, of crystal glasses, of seams, of hair, of liquids, of lights, of keys, of food."
When she had finished her list, the potentate who owned the Ford 99 said that he would give it to her, and that in the afternoon he would send one of his servants with a liter of naphtha so that she could take the car out for a spin.
"Thank you," she said. "You are very generous."
The madman went away, looking up to the skies; who knows what he was searching for. The woman who was going to die that day asked herself what she should eat on Sunday, when her sons and their wives came to lunch. The president of the Republic of Rosario gave a speech.
And everything in the world carried on the same, apart from the fact that Ekaterina V named Kustkarov her interior minister, which terrified the poor man but which was welcomed with open arms by Irina as an opportunity for her to refresh her wardrobe and her stock of lovers. And Jack Jackson-Franklin sold his memoirs to one of Paraguay's more sophisticated magazines for a stellar amount of money, which allowed him to retire to live in Imerina. And six spaceships from six major world powers set off to the edges of the universe and were never seen again.
She married a good man who had a house with a balcony, a white bicycle, and a radio which, on clear days, could pick up the radio plays that LLL1 Radio Magnum transmitted from Entre Dos Rios, and she waltzed in white satin shoes. The day that her first son was born a very pale green shoot grew out of the ground on the banks of the great lagoon.
2020.10.01 07:12 Throwawayacccounts Toilet spy camera video
| Originally I wasn't going to get into detail on my story because I didn't think it was needed, people could use it to help find who I am, and I didn't think it was anyone's business. But after reflecting on the back and forward of a thread someone made, and the words in the back of my mind that maybe if the right person knew then others can be helped. Maybe my failure in life can make others have a better life.|
I decided to give a deep dive into my story. Note, I will leave out exact details because I still don't want to be found. I've already had pro life groups message me on here telling me not to off myself. I am very sure they believe they would be doing good if they sent cops to my place so I can be put into a nut house. But the way I see it is as a real risk of taking away the 1 thing that can end my suffering.
So I would ask for people to share my story. Maybe the right person will hearead it. Maybe some government program or something will be made to help. Or at least, maybe assisted suicide will be legal to help end the suffering of people who are not terminally ill. I know nothing can happen if I don't share and I expect nothing to change even if I do. But there is a chance something might change for the better if I do.
Side note: Sorry for the typos. I wrote this in 1 sitting. Also note, none of my degrees were in English :P. So forgive the bad grammar and what not. Something to note because this is a mind dump. My writing towards the end gets worse. Sorry about that.
BTW I know my point will get lost in the mountain of text. But it shouldn't be ignored that 85% or higher autistics who graduate can't find a job. It is the single highest disability which can't get a job, bullied even as an adult, extremely high suicide rate, it's the lowest likely of getting any economic assistance or disability even with others having a higher likely of having a job, and there is no real government program to help other than locking us up. Society itself looks down on it, and makes excuses like "I think I have" or "I think the person I work with has". Some even go as far as saying "I'm", but it turns out they never been tested. You wouldn't say that about almost anything else. But due to that, people use that are a saying to say whatever numbers, whatever hardship, or anything else is fake.
I'm currently 30 something years old. I have 4 degrees. An AS in aerospace, AS in IT, AS in networks, and BS in industrial. I went out of my way to learn how to fly a plane, how to code, statistical analyst, I have certs in lean manufacturing, I have certs in leadership, and so on. I've literally been in the news paper because NASA flown me out due to my rover designs, and I was train by NASA to work on rockets when I was doing my aerospace degree. (They flown me out to more than less tell me due to the hiring freeze that I won't be getting a job or be able to be an intern. That was in Obama and Biden's term BTW. But at least I got a free trip out of it and pictures.)
During my first degree (aerospace), the college I went to was near KSC. There was some agreement that NASA would train us, allow us out there, and in hopes we would get a job when we are done and go for a higher degree in aerospace. This is similar to how Boeing and other companies have programs to help train their future workers before coming on the floor. The problem with this is my final semester man space flight went away, and the idea of us working out there went into smoke. Then to make things worse, about a year or so after I gotten my degree they made the program into a BS due to how hard it was. I don't think it was an ABET, but still. I believe during this degree I was documented as autistic. It might of been my next degree.
During this time I worked a number of jobs from retail, helping at a vet, cleaning toilets/floors/animal waste, writing, and a few others. Many times I would work for $8 A WEEK. Sometimes I worked/helped with food being my payment.
After this, it was obvious things were getting worse so my parents and I moved a few states away since my parents gotten jobs there. Before heading out, I picked up a manufacturing job in the area we were moving to, and I thought thinks were starting to work out in my favor for once. I was wrong. The place I worked at treated everyone horribly. They were hiring, firing, and rehiring people because they had an agreement with the state if they hire x amount of people then they would get something like $250 million from the state. But the loophole was each person hired counted, but it never counted how many kept their job or was hired before. So there was a strong mentality of firing people over nothing or no reason. Many who stuck around were horrible people. Every day I dealt with workplace bullies from people about double my age at the time. Every day it gotten worse. Then to top it off, the boss tended to join in, and by the time I was fired for no reason I was about a week off from crashing my car into a tree at top speed to end it. I was just trying to figure out how to make it look like and accident so my parents would get my life insurance.
After I was fired, and after I couldn't find a job for a while. My mom took me to the local community college so I can try another degree. We figure IT might be worth me getting into since I was already good with computers. I actually had a good time in this degree because the director of the program was nice, and he tried to help people out to a point. About mid way the director asked why wasn't I going for my networking degree. Something it is just a handful of classes apart, and I can graduate with both. That turned out to be helpful since the networking degree was a 2x2 into my BS.
Anyways, during my time of doing this degree/s I had to only take 2 classes at a time since beyond that I was overloaded, and realistically I wouldn't been able to get the aerospace BS degree anyways since my grades from the AS was so low due to the load. I applied to some QA jobs while doing this degree since I was certified in doing some of that, and one laughed me out of the interview. IDK if they did that because I was 24 at the time, and they were close to 50. Or the fact that I'm autistic. Maybe a little of both. The guy did mention my age a few times. Anyways, all the questions I answered 100% right. I even wrote down the questions when I got to my car, and looked up everything to see if maybe that is why the guy was laughing.
I ran into situations like that once in a while. One job I did pick up I had to go through hurdles to just get it. Take a test to prove I'm not mentally retarded or anything like that. 2 hours on my first day the boss fired me because they mentioned to the plant manager the day before I was working on my IT degree on my off time. What is sad is my pay topped out at what I started due to all my certs and what not, and it was only $20k. And during my time there all I heard was everyone bad mouthing everyone who worked there due to the drug use in the area.
Also while I was working on that degree I learned how to code. Basically, I heard about the learn to code crap and since my school wasn't going to teach me I decided to pick up those skills on my own. I wanted to make some Android apps to see if they can take off. None of them did, and I figure maybe it was marketing or experience. So my parents drove me out to museums and other places so I can ask if I could code an application for them for free. One of them I 100% completed. It was for a historic burial ground. Basically, I went on a walking tour of it and notice how people were complaining about the paper map. So I scanned the map, and had it where when you touched the number the information of the person would come up. I was able to secure a meeting and my hopes was high with this. That quickly went away when it was clear the historical place was going to do nothing with what I provided and basically was lying to get me away. I offered it for free, and just asked them to place QR codes so people know where to download the application. Another place, I wanted to develop something similar with them I kept getting blown off. (In the next degree I had to use the library to take a proctor test, and I heard them talking shit behind my back. The same ass holes that wasted my time.) I even went on some trips with my dad when he had business trips. Similar things happened in those areas. Where I couldn't get a meeting, I kept getting lied to, or whatever instead of flat out rejected.
Now some might be wondering why was I giving this away for free. The thought behind this was I would be able to use this as resume material. That this is why I wasn't getting beyond the interview stage when I interviewed for coding jobs or why I wasn't getting a call back at all.During this time I took a YouTube channel I had in the past that I used for basic game how-to videos like Eve Online, and I turned it into a tech how-to and educational channel. The thought behind this is I could show potential employers what I knew and hope it will help me get a job. This never took off, and even today it's about 12k subs, but only gets an average of 100 views per video. The topics I covered was a mix of cyber security, coding, windows, server, network engineering, and a number of other things. I even gotten into aerospace, stock market, and a few other things. Some of it I bull shitted to act like I had more going for me than I did. But this was when it was obvious people wanted to see some confidence in what you're saying. Still, I dislike how I did that.
By this time I figured nothing was going to work out for me, so I tried freelance work. I found I was really good in SEO work. But I quickly found it was impossible to get work due to the flood of bids that undercut mine simply because these others would lie and they came from 3rd world countries. I tried hiring some to figure out what is going on, and quickly found it wasn't going to work since there was no way to filter myself to the top vs these others. Where an average person hears 1 person says they can do a job for $300 but this other says for $9. Then lets go for $9. So I killed that off.
Between this point till the end of my degree I tried making apps a few more times, tried YouTube throughout, and I asked my school for help. They tried, but most places didn't want to pay. I found 99% of the problem is I am not good with people, and I needed a people person to help. Since I didn't have that, I was SOL.
Sometime during this degree I was told about the Navy doing games. Where they wanted subject matter experts in their field to help them figure out how to best do things in the future. So I said OK to this. Like it wasn't paid, and I figure it would be fun (I was wrong about it being fun). Anyways, we found AI against human, the human almost always loses. But human and AI working together takes out AI alone each time. Like AI against human, you have something like a 12% better results. Human + AI you have a 64% better results against AI. Those numbers might be not right and I'm saying them as an example only. But since then, every so often the USA Navy sends me text and email when super important stuff is going on (like what you should do in this virus) because their system has me marked as a contractor.
Anyways, towards the end of my degree I was invited to look around Cisco. While there the recruiter talked to a group of us, and he gave us their contact info and what not. I sent them multiple emails and even tried on Linkedin, but never heard anything back.
Somewhere within this degree I was also dealing with my sister coming in and out of my life. My sister when I was in 6th grade had to be taken away to my other parent because my sister keep forcing herself to get into drugs and bad people (my parents lived in 2 different states due to jobs, and it took several years before they got back in the same house). This time she was "escaping" some guy who was in human trafficking, smuggling, and so on. During her time with us she made it a living hell. She never really gotten away from drinking, drugs, and so on. Almost every day she constantly yelled, she told plenty of lies to my extended family which put my parents and I into question, and she even tried to trick me into killing our parents over and over. Eventually, my parents ended up kicking her out when she was at my grandmothers about 2 hours away. That was the last I seen of her until she had her kid.
Well this isn't 100% true. About a year or 2 within it, my parents asked all my family if they heard from her for them to contact us to let us know she was alive. They agreed, but we haven't heard anything. One day several months later I was doing maintenance on my computer and remembered I put a tracker on my sisters laptop with her permission. At the time I explained what it did, and that she can use it to track her computer if someone steals it. I logged in and found it still worked. I told the tracker to activate the webcam so it would take pictures, it would send me screenshots, and so on. We found out my sister was in contact with my grandmother, my mom's sisters, and most others. We found out she was living in CO, and figured out she was involved heavily into drugs. My dad, because he works in the federal gov he was told around that time my sister was stopped by the TSA a few times carrying slightly under the max allowed amount of $10k. In short, the DEA knew she was smuggling money, and the DEA knew about what was going on with them. Remember this!!! But shortly after I killed the tracker since we knew our family was not to be trusted, we knew she was alive, and at a given point it was driving us up the wall. We pretty much agreed to cut ties with everyone involved, but my mom decided to not.
I believe it was after all of this, but before I got done with my IT AS I joined the Freemasons. Long story short on that front is at the time I believed my life was getting better, that I was on the right track, and I wanted to be around a group to start calling them my friends. Plus I was getting more and more hungry to see if I can go into the political field. Note that I didn't directly join to go into politics. But I hoped that would be a bonus. What at first seemed as I was making friends, that quickly faded away. Most of the members were 2 or 3 times older than me. They were so out of touch to the current problems, and there wasn't much to keep me there. I did endowed because I seen the good work, and I wanted the group to keep doing things. But as I got busy with school, that mostly faded. And what kept me from going to another meeting in a good number of years is the fact that I have come more and more to the realization how fucked I am. Like when I went to most all the meetings and helped out, I still had a ton of hope and I was trying to go out to places asking if they needed an app. Also the other thing that somewhat shown I won't make friends there is the fact that the people I talked frequently with. I notice none of them even tried to contact me. (When I was in HS I noticed something similar with 99% of my family. I use to call them weekly since I was states away. But I noticed they never call me even on my birthday. So I just stopped interacting with them to see how long it will take for them to check up on me. They never did.) I will admit I do miss it to a point, and thought of going into the Scottish Rite before I stopped going. But IDK anymore due to how life is.
During this degree I was invited out to NASA's Stennis Space Center after NASA liked my rover design. I took the offer and the group I was with on our last day they mostly just told us there is no jobs available due to the hiring freeze. On the way back we met with my grandparents on my dad's side (the only ones who my sister didn't interact with because they are religious and they have so little money that she can't get anything from them). We met them to see where my granddad grown up at and to meet some family that I never seen or heard of before. A day or 2 later on the way back I notice my grandmom was a bit odd. When we got to my grandparents house, my aunt showed up with her husband. They were drunker than drunk. She blamed us for kidnapping my grandparents. In the past she blamed me saying I hacked my grandparents computer, and I had 11 groups looking into her computer. And she went out of her way to have it where my dad stopped paying for my grandparents cable and net (which they can't afford) and blamed us for spying. But this shocked me. That she was accusing us for kidnapping them. After that I figured out my sister had a hand in this with her lies.
After all of this, I ended doing a round about way of using my pell grant money to pay for their basic net, get them back on their service ($10 a month), their own paid subscription of Netflix, and shared subscription of YouTube TV. I mostly did this because other than my parents I consider them to be my only family.
Anyways, when I took my BS all my classes were 100% online. Unlike the CC where I went to class in person, I found while this being the only way I could've done it due to no funds. It was stupid since I couldn't network to hopefully get a job. During this time I kept trying to get into remote work, and I think in 1 month I applied to 10,000 jobs. And for the next 2 months I upped it by an extra thousand. Some gotten back to me, but most didn't. Some interviewed me, but most didn't. Many said remote, but weren't really. Like they wanted remote but you were mostly called in every day. I was applying to so many jobs that I had to apply in other countries.
I think it was during this degree or right before it my dad gotten a number of bee hives, and part of my duties went into that. I hate it because the obvious, and in order to sell the honey my parents are going through my mom's sister. The only good that came from the bees in my opinion is over the past few years my parents started looking into buying a farm. The idea was originally something that can mostly keep up itself with contracts. And it can be a safety net for anyone coming after. But between that thought and now, my parents said I can be a farm manager. I went out of my way to suggest this because as time went on, it became more and more and more obvious how screwed I really am. Anyways, it turns out even if you have the money and income to pay off loans of a given amount. Thanks to Obama and Biden, you legally can't get a loan for anything over 10 acres without it being some type of farm loan. This is unless if you're building a manufacturing plant on it or something like that. And then, you can't get a farm loan unless if you already run a farm.
How fucked up is that? You have the income to pay for a loan (in this case my parent's joint income they could), but because it's over 10 acres you have to have a farm loan. And legally you can't get one unless you already run a farm. You can see who I'm not voting for. Anyways, because we have bees they said they will make that classified as a farm, and then we can do business.
Somewhere mid way of my degree my parents found a 200 acre farm they liked. We went out there, and found it to be worth while. Long story short, the owner spent about a year to 2 years jerking us around. Not wanting us to get the farm evaluated which is required for a loan. And saying they wanted half a million, when the place at best was worth $350k. After my sister moved back in, the owner sold it to their family member for $250k. Since then we think we might of found a place or 2, but it's iffy. The entire point of the farm is multi-year crops. Something to keep the workload down, with low competition, but high payoff like lavender or grapes. All the work and what not to be contracted out, and a company deals with it.
Somewhere mid way of the degree I started getting into 3D printing, laser engraving, and stuff like that to see if I can make money. After several years I still haven't gotten enough to pay for the $1,000 3D printer setup. I only gotten 2 sells with my laser engraver, and that was by force. So that is dead.
Anyways, sometime last year my sister came back with her kids. She told my mom the guy she was with rape the kids, and she was fearful of her life (same guy from before). Before my mom got her, the guy kicked her out. My parents rented her a hotel so she didn't die from the cold (my sister says she was homeless during this time). It turned out she wasn't there most of the days, and it was expected that she was whoring herself not because she had to. But drugs and drinking. Eventually my mom gotten fed up and told my sister to get her kid's papers in order and get ready. My mom bought a ticket and the same day got there. She found out my sister didn't have their bags packed, didn't have their papers in order, and I guess forgotten about it. While getting the stuff ready, my sister told my mom she was afraid that the guy was going to kill her. After my sister gotten back we had a hurricane coming toward the area and we asked my grandmom (mom's side) to stay away. She didn't listen and brought a few people to see my sister and her kids who just came out of a crack house. My grandmom I caught her a number of times talking shit about my parents and I. When I went to show my sister where the security cameras are since my sister said the guy put cameras in the doorknob (had wires coming out of it) and shower head (and I guess was selling videos of her). My grandmom said some bullshit like they are just going to change the location of the cameras. After the 4th time of hearing bull shit, I ended up letting her have it. But still it never stopped. My grandmom saying I was a guest that would never leave. That I'm like trash that needs to go. During this time I heard my parents tell my grandmom the DEA and FBI knew about the guy in human trafficking, and how the guy is smuggling drugs. But the law enforcement literally said they were waiting for him to kill my sister before they moved in on him.
Anyways, after all that was said and done my sister 100% started up drinking in no time and the hell that went away when she was gone the last time came back. But this time I could 100% see something was off with the kids, I could see they weren't healthy, and Holocaust camp. I started working on the kids to get them better, and gotten them a good way with the help of my mom and dad. My sister has nothing to do with her kids during the holidays outside of photo moments, and my sister even broken her daughter's (1 year old at the time) leg and more than less walked away. During this entire time I dealt with her recording us, her sneaking off and leaving us with the kids, her constant yelling, and so on. Due to this we increased the amount of cameras from 4 of them on the outside and 2 on the inside to 8 on the outside and 12 on the inside of the house just to cover our ass. One of her tricks was to insult day after day and hour after hour my mom. Then get me PO so I would try to protect my mom. After which, my sister would 100% calm down like nothing happen, pull out her phone, and record it.
In the past I threaten my parents to show the cops the video of her because I have video of when the guy kidnapped the kids, and we had a swat team around his house. Around 12AM my sister was drunk, loud, and acting up on the deck. My dad went out there to tell her to stop. She thrown a water hose at my dad and it split his nose. She went inside and started slamming doors to the point a clock fallen off the wall, and then she started stomping on it. Like that isn't the worse of it. My parents said if I was to do that then I will be kicked out and the kids will go back to their dad. Later it was found that he raped the son on the trip, and at some point he was allowing people to fuck his son (4 at the time) for money. People being both male and female. (What allowed the guy to kidnap the kids btw was a judge in my state breaking the law. The judge never gotten ding for it. I don't remember his name, otherwise I would've given it here)
Anyways, to make a long story short on that side. Her and her kids are still living with us and it's a living hell many days. I honestly believe my sister is a sociopath. Like a legit one, and my parents agree she needs to be tested after the guy goes to jail. Also there is a number of times throughout this my grandmom and my mom's sister helped my sister break court orders and they knew it. I already declared when my dad's parents die, I won't be going in that area anymore. And if I do, it won't be to see any of my family. I can get deeper into that, but I think everyone has the point.
Towards the end of the degree I 100% gotten burned out. Normally I was taking 1 to 2 classes at a time, and even at that I had the hardest time with any classes that weren't tech classes. Like I had to beg one of my teachers to pass me, it was that bad. I believe I am still dealing with being burnt out.
Anyways, late last year I ended up walking the stage for my last degree. I've told my mom I don't want anyone to go other than my parents, and my dad's uncle (he stayed far outside of this crap with my sister, and he has been OK to me. Also I wanted him there since his kid died, and he didn't have the ability to see someone walk. Plus my grandparents on my dad's side refused. I'm guessing due to family drama that was caused by my sister.) Against my wishes my mom forced it where my sister, her kids, my grandmom that called me trash, and my mom's sisters showed up. I'm still piss.
Around this time I was getting desperate to find a job, so I started trying to use my contacts. The director of my last degree said he wanted to help, but couldn't help since I don't have work experience in IT. The people I let cheat off of me in return they would help me get a job, they ghosted me. My mom was using her contacts, but even after interviewing me no one wanted to hire me. Like one place I applied for a networking job, and they told my mom they weren't going to interview me since I didn't put anything about coding in the resume. My mom told them about how I coded, and during the interview they only asked me about database admin questions.
About this time I pivot my YouTube channel from tech how-to to gaming. I tried a little Star Citizen, but lately I've tried Flight Sim. Making how-to videos and what not. They get extremely low views, and I'm thinking that is going to tail off soon. IDK what to do on that front.
After the virus kicked up I started looking into my backup plan. Because I knew how to fly small planes, I figure I could go for an airline pilot spot or the military. It turns out both won't hire you if you're autistic. The airline thing requires knowing someone to start with, but they won't even look at you if you're autistic. My dad used his contacts to figure out what is going on with the military. He found out that you need a waver, but it's near impossible. And even then, you need to get a waver each time you get a new CO. And if a CO or anyone doesn't like you, they can easily use your autism to get you kicked out. The reason why there was policies to keep autistic people out is many have been bullied to the point that there has been permanent damage mentally and many times physically to the autistic person. And there is even investigations on this because it has gotten so bad.
After that, my hope went completely away. I tried the normal method, but obviously no one wants me. I tried starting my own company, but after so many tries that has never worked out. I even tried writing a book, painting, and things like that and I haven't sold a single one. Even advertised it as coming from an autistic painter in hopes it will bring a buyer.
When I was trying to figure it out I kept asking myself how does these people afford these $20k patents when most don't make any money. I ended up asking around and found out about product licensing. Currently I'm on my 3rd product I'm trying to license, and no one so far wants anything I have to offer. Some even call me back and spend half an hour on the phone with me. After which, I hear nothing. I figure it's similar to interviews. Where the person gets a vibe because I'm autistic, and that blows the entire thing.
I'm honestly at the point I just want to fucking retire. I want to have enough money where I don't have to worry about what happens if I get kicked out. That I see a $10 game, and I can buy it without worrying about things. Factorio has been a game I keep looking up videos almost daily for the past 4 months, and I hate how I'm worried about just that little amount of money.
The only things that is keeping me from offing myself this second is what kept me in the past. Stupid things like wanting to play a game (cyber punk), or that it will make my parents sad. I figure in 2022 if my life doesn't get better. I might end things. It would be nice to just find some nice women with a good job, create a family, and play the stay at home dad.
Getting a job is pretty much impossible for my disability. You might want to check out the unemployment rate for people with autism. Like it's predicted to be around 85% of people who HAVE a college degree but are also autistic are unemployed. In fact, there is a major gap between autistic people and other disabilities who have a degree or not. People with autism have some of the lowest paying jobs compared to others. I've seen studies talk about people who are autistic are 9 times more likely to off themselves. Being autistic I'm far far far more likely workplace bullying (and I have in most jobs I've been on. Even when I was cleaning toilets for $8 a week because that is all the work I was able to get). In the USA, if you're blind, you automatically get the full amount. If you have anxiety problems you have a high chance of getting the full amount ($750 a month btw). If you're autistic and only autistic, then you have near a 0% chance of getting a cent. Even blind people have a higher chance of getting a job than someone who is autistic. Even people with missing body parts have a higher chance. How fucked up is society that not only there is no disability. But there is no programs to help someone who is autistic to get and keep a job? Even more if they are educated like myself. And worse off, how fucked up is it that not only all this other stuff. But me wanting to end my life is viewed as shameful, taboo, and enough to be locked up in a mental hospital.
Like I would love to run for congress or governor. But I have no doubt in my mind me being autistic will stand in my way and be used against me. Similar how the dems had no shame of trying to use Trump's weight as one of the reasons he shouldn't be in. So I don't think I can fix the system directly. Again, please share this. Maybe the right people will see this and maybe at some point the system will get fixed. I just hope this won't be used against me, and that is why I ask for people to not try to figure out who I am. Like I know if this info gets out, and this is linked to my name. This will kill my chances of working in ANY good IT job since why would you trust someone that to some might seem unstable with quarter of a million dollar code/parts.
The following is evidence of some of my certs and degrees. I blacked out a lot of things so you can't track down the date, location of the school, my name, and a few other things. Again, I still don't want to be found. I am only sharing this because my word by itself means nothing. And I honestly haven't thought of how out of the norm what I done is. Keep in mind, I only did it to survive and I live with it every day.
And this is something everyone needs to keep in mind. I did what I did to survive. So I can have a chance of living a happy normal life. Some have called me a Renaissance Man. Some called me a savant. I don't view it that way. I did what I did to survive. I did what I did because I knew doing nothing won't get me anywhere, and I thought doing this will get me a chance of a normal life. I did what I did because other than doing nothing, it's the only other possible action I could think of to get me to a normal happy life.
NOTE: I have to scan my degrees. I didn't notice that wasn't done until I looked for them for evidence.
There is a lot I'm not including. Like a lot of IT certs that basically said I know x technology. I've gotten a load of them through my BS. There is also a lot of certs I know I don't have like my OSHA stuff I lost it a while back, NDT certs I have no idea where they are, and there is a number of others that past work places that required me to train but kept the certs so I had to retake it if I worked for anyone else (like driving forklifts, lean manufacturing, and a few others)
submitted by Throwawayacccounts to NEET [link] [comments]
2020.09.28 09:49 MrKarmaChameleon Toilet spy camera video
So id convinced my fairly new partner that we needed to move to a new state and got a job lined up but we had no money or place to stay. Hes convinced me bipolar is my imagination and I don't need mess. Im off them for like 4 months. We arrive in New state. Car broke down after 2 days arriving. We are tent camping which is a hot button issue for the major city at the moment, while allowed with some restrictions. We were in a very rich suburb bc it was close to my new job. The sheriff of the county stops to question us and tries to pay us lip service, ends up taking a video of my boyfriend where he calls out the mayor over the homelessness crisis in the city. The guy is all for political stunts and a vile sheriff. I get into Twitter wars with him online and we are repeatedly bothered by calls bringing out the police to our campsite over the next few days. I start researching the sheriff and become obsessed with destroying his.campaign and exposing his skeletons. I see unmarked trucks with tented windows pull up and stalk our campsite regularly. Bf has seen a truck once and thinks im paranoid. I start making multiple Twitter accounts when all of a sudden my phone shuts off on its own and won't work. I get it to reboot later but since beliece my phone is being spied on and hacked. I believe I'm gonna take down the sheriff and expose the shitty police who stand for him. I start thinking im an unpaid private investigator and that the government has become aware of our activities.
I start thinking that all video surveillance inside of stores are keeping tabs on me and so is the government. I keep giving a thumbs up and smile to the cameras. I think I'm going to be on Bill Maher and gonna be an underdog ingenious hero with a great sense of humor. Walgreens becomes my home base. I walk in and go straight to the bathroom and take of my shirt. Try to figure out my phone situation and believe its being controlled again. I feel safe in the bathroom and excited that everyone is watching and im gonna be a guest on bill majer. Im making headlines. I text my brother asking him to prove he is himself and ask him if he's ready to have some fun. Then I walk through the store shirtless and put on a Halloween mask. Walk over to the photo center and plug up my phone to print screenshots of my location and recent photos. Leave my wallet and jacket in the bathroom along with my backpack and exit. I slip a call 911 note to an employee saying im being followed and am going to steal some necessities and they should call the police.
I start interacting with some kids walking the store while shirtless and a parent freaks. I leave with a notebook, pens, and a monster energy drink and start pacing the parking lot. Cops come. Try to calm me ask whats wrong how can they help and I just say I need to think. They watch me but leave me alone. I wander the neighborhood til my bf gets off work, going back and forth between Walgreens and a coffee shop. When I enter the coffee shop everything is in slowmo.each time I enter alternately the Walgreens or coffee shop I believe people are staged to help me and interact with me. Some people don't know what's going on and are customers. Back to home base I go, to Walgreens and into the Walgreens bathroom. This time when I enter there the store there are two cops and they follow me from a distance. I enter the bathroom and put on my shirt and leave my phone and jacket. The cops tell me I need to leave the store. Back to the coffee shop and empty the contents of my backpack and spread them across two tables then leave. This is all day. My bf gets off work and off we go to set up our tent. I start telling my boyfriend about the government hacking my phone and how we need to go immediately to the police station to file a harassment charge against the town sheriff and I stay up all night.
Next day comes, I file the complaint which takes all day, abandoning my bike bags to go faster on my bike and escape those following me. I decide I need to go to the county jail and find out what's really going on and who the bad guys are that are involved with the sheriff, the county is corrupt. I walk into a convenient store and say I have a gun and walk behind the counter and steal like 5 packs of cigarettes because of my nerves. But I forget a lighter. I tell the cashier to call the cops and begin walking away. Minutes later im searched and arrested and driven back to the store to get the story. Im whistling kill bills "twisted nerve" at the police and start asking who is on the sheriffs side and who's guilty. They drive me to jail. I try to make a joke out of all of them. I don't remember what all happened when I got to the jail except I got hostile at booking and lunged at an officer before getting tased.
To somewhat shorten a very long story, I end up strapped to a restraint chair with a spit mask/net over my face wrapped in a suicide smock in a cell in booking. I think the world is literally coming to a WWIII and this jail is something like the holocaust. I think I'm going to die bound too tightly in this chair. I'm screaming numbers and patterns and scriptures. I get shot up with Haldol but don't sleep for days. I shit myself in the chair and remain there for 4 hours but it seems like days. It takes me weeks to realize their system and shifts for employees and to realize what's going on or where I am. I keep pushing the emergency button in my cell and talking to the speaker. Im freaking out because I don't have a pen to record the patterns.
I flood my cell with my smock clogging the toilet and believe we will all be removed from our cells and eventually the jail. It kind of worked cuz they moved me somewhere else. I scream that 4 is my favorite number and I end up in cell 4. Im in control.
I haven't slept in days. I now believe most of us will die here. I think my friends are coming to rescue me from the inside. I then think I'm part of the 3rd testament of the Bible. Im the holy spirit. Im suffering emotional pain but Jesus endured the physical. The trustee watching me is the antichrist and pregnant with a child. This child will be crucified like Jesus and endure more pain than him. The Bible is a bunch of codes and I am solving everything. Robin Williams soul has entered my body and now I'm partially him.
I start to rid myself of the religious delusions as I start taking meds. I've been in jail almost 2 weeks. I start to remember why I'm there in jail. To remove the county sheriff and fix the jail. I start calling out corrections officers and sheriffs. Studying everyone's moves. I end up back in the restraint chair at least ten times. My boyfriend has finally figured out where I am and come to visit.me. he doesn't understand that the whole jail is against me and that the sheriff is using his power to keep me incarcerated with little resources.to communicate with others or to the outside. I think the whole jail is.under investigation and im the cause of it all.
I do a ton of crazy things in jail and I end up stuck there for 35 days. My bf believes they were trying to commit me but he finally bailed me out. I racked up an extra charge from spitting on an officer.
I'm just as obsessed with the sheriff and my duties as when I went in. He takes me to a mental hospital where much more craziness ensues.
2 more weeks go by and I am in his arms. He keeps trying to bring me down and slowly I return to normal. It takes me over another month to finally throw out all my written codes and notes during the ordeal. I deal with court shit for 6 months.
I still question to what extent things were real. Was I being stalked? Was my phone hacked? Probably not. I was medicated for 8 months and now I'm 4 months off again due to circumstances. I feel mania coming on. Oh fuck.
submitted by MrKarmaChameleon to bipolar [link] [comments]
2020.09.19 20:44 redroguetech Mega "getting started" thread
[Updated repost from here and here]
See my mega review post. It's getting time for me to update it, but still worth looking through.
First off, I wanna just get out of the way that there are as many approaches to doing "smart home" as there are people doing it... So I welcome comments! The idea is to create a single post/thread I (or anyone else) can just link for people asking the basic question of "where do I start", and... I started where I started, not where everyone else started :-)
[What do you want ?]
My first suggestion to all those starting out or barely in.... At a minimum, consider EVERYTHING you might want to do. Let your imagination run wild. If you can think it, there's a good chance someone else has done it - and if not, you can be the first. I think the biggest and most common mistake people make when starting out - for me as well - is a lack of imagination. There's nothing wrong starting out with "I just want to do X" (especially if you mean it) but it's also a good way to get boxed in. I recommend everyone, including automation veterans, write out all your dream projects and goals... actually write them down. Write out what and how many devices (lights, sensors, etc.) it will take. Then, put in ball park prices. If you're really just starting out, you might need to pencil in just wild guesses. That's fine. Doesn't need to be exact, and prices change (and can vary wildly by brand/model). The idea is to just have a rough estimate of what's feasible and what isn't... What's worth it and what isn't... What to do sooner and what to put off.
[What do you already have?]
If you're serious about home automation... Make a detailed floor plan of your house. A floor-plan is pretty useful in general, but especially useful for setting up and maintaining a smart home. Mark where all the outlets, switches, and light fixtures are at, and go through the house mapping circuit breakers just the one time. As smart devices are installed, notate on the floor plan which devices are smart, their capabilities (ie if lights are color), what protocol they use (ZigBee, Z-Wave, or WiFi), what circuit breaker they're on and/or what type of battery they use (and you can note last battery installation date). (I use Sweet Home 3D - free, pretty powerful, and pretty easy.)
Obviously, what you already have for automation devices should be taken into account in any smart home plan. However, in general don't let that influence you too much. Every home automation veteran has box(s) full of old stuff. Plan carefully to minimize waste, but home automation is constantly evolving, so be willing to occasionally rethink your approach. If you do switch to a different platform/protocol/etc, do it slowly. Don't try to transition everything at once. At the same time, I personally feel it's important to maintain consistency throughout a house. Having a mish-mash of different products and designs can hinder every-day living.
[What can you do?]
See below for a quick list of the most common device types. Following that is a list of automation ideas. Use these to assist in making the list. Although they are perhaps a bit overwhelmingly long, it's more to prompt you to think about what you want. Come up with your own dream list! (Then share it.)
Before skipping to those, there's a two things you need to decide early on. (Or skip, but come back.) Honestly, I'm split on which is more important. They may very well be equally important.
[Pause for dramatic cliff-hanger....]
[How are you going to control everything?]
The first is the "automation controller". You know about Google Home and Alexa - maybe know about IFTTT - and you're wondering if you really need a separate controller. If you're going to do more than couple of simple things... you're going to want a controller. It's just that simple.
There's quite a few out there (literally thousands), from those that barely qualify as an automation controller (like Google Home), to easy to use but limited SmartThings, to DIY systems like HomeAssistant. It depends in large part on end goals and user preference (and mon-ay!). Few people have extensively used all of the major ones, so take all suggestions - including mine - with a grain of salt, unless they can directly compare and contrast from experience. So, you're on your own. For what it's worth, my quick-pick short list would be either Hubitat or Home Assistant, but it really does depend on your tech level, budget, goals, and other preferences. Personally, I use a Hubitat Elevation, and I love it.
Note: My understanding is that SmartThings is still the go-to platform for beginners. However, it's limited, and does not have a stable user experience or functionality. I have long since stopped using SmartThings, so only passingly familiar with recent developments, but my opinion continues to be to avoid it unless you willing to buy it as a learning tool.
[How are you going to control everything??]
The second major decision is how you want to control the lighting. Sounds simple, but it's really not. It really deserves a mega-thread of it's own. At least for me, it was a choice that was far more difficult, far more costly, and far harder to reverse than which controller to get (though I'm proud to say I'm sure I did make the right choice for my goals). There's smart switches,1 smart bulbs, smart switches with smart bulbs, control/touch screen panels, remote controls, and voice. And, each one can have varying features and styling. Also consider how they will work together, not just on the technical side (which is addressed by picking an automation controller), but in actual practical use. Before picking products, actually imagine using them... For instance, would you want a glossy touch-screen light dimmer next to a click-button fan controller? Rather than immediately falling in love with a new glitter product, picture yourself using it to turn the lights on and off or whatever on a daily basis while half-asleep in the dark, or in a rush out the door.
Many people answer "I'll just use voice". Wrong answer. Just take my word for it. Voice is an add-on feature; not a replacement for physical controls. I have at least 10 Google Homes scattered throughout the house, and will be expanding on that - so it's not that they aren't useful, but yelling "Hey Google, turn on kitchen light one" ("I've turned on kitchen light two" -- "I SAID ONE!!") at 3am just doesn't actually work. As much as I and hopefully you love the idea of home automation, old dumb light switches really are about as good you can get for simple, practical, intuitive use.
My ultimate answer is that... I don't want to control lights! I want them to control themselves - hence being home automation. Unfortunately, it's just not achievable. 1) Motion sensors can be finicky and you'll want a backup, 2) Motion sensors aren't appropriate for all circumstances, and 3) Motion sensors throughout the entire house (and setting up the automation logic) is a large undertaking, and will take much time, effort and expense. I give a pro/con of some of the basic methods on my "review thread", but... First, ask YOURSELF questions. Where will the switches be? What will they do? What are you going to do with the existing switches? Will you want switches where there aren't any built-in? Will they work for the entire family? Consider what you'll gain over "dumb" switches, and what you'll lose. Then do research and ask everyone else how to get there.
[What protocol are you going to use?]
One other thing that's suggested be decided early on is protocol. If you've done any research at all or spent anytime in the forums, you'll see ZigBee and Z-Wave mentioned a lot. First, WiFi is conspicuously absent in that sentence. Despite the massive number of "smart" products on the market that use WiFi, it's not a good base protocol to use. Buying WiFi products is a great place to start out. There are a lot of great WiFi products, and they don't generally require any "hub", allowing you to just jump in without out this bothersome planning and research, and using WiFi products isn't a death sentence for home automation setups. But there are many - too many - drawbacks from security issues to signal interference, so be careful not to get sucked too far into WiFi. Feel free to postpone making these really hard choices by buying a couple WiFi devices, but don't ignore them just because WiFi seems to work well to start with. Some of the pro/cons for WiFi like security issues just make WiFi less of bargain, but many of the issues grow exponentially with the number of WiFi devices you have.
As to Zigbee or Z-Wave - I started out with a mix, and have settled on one based on stability of my personal setup - not naming which is giving me troubles, because it's probably solvable, I'm just too lazy to bother. Although there are differences between the two - some of which may be quite important to smart-home veterans - it typically doesn't matter which is used, and there's certainly not one that's "better" for beginners. Pretty much every product type can be found in either, but specific brands usually do one or the other, so I'd recommend getting a controller that supports both, learn as you go, and use what works best.
Just as a bit of a primer, ZigBee and Z-Wave are both what are known as "mesh networks". You know about "mesh WiFi". It's like that, but completely different. In a true mesh network, each device can act as a repeater for other devices, which isn't true for WiFi. So each device that is a repeater strengthens and extends the network, and can become more efficient with routing. Not all will be repeaters, particularly battery powered devices. Hue and other ZigBee bulbs won't either, because they're technically a substandard (Zigbee Light Link rather than Zigbee Home Automation). However, bulbs in general are reportedly a mixed bag, and not being a repeater can be better than being a bad repeater.
[Do you really need a "hub"?]
A note on hubs. Many people (including myself) started out with "But I don't wanna hub!" (or "But I don't wannanother hub!") Get over it. Although there's something to be said for simplicity, don't get hung up on whether something requires a hub! They don't build them just to make money... well, I mean, they do, but no one would buy them if they didn't have value. Personally, I actively use six hubs (Hubitat Elevation, Lutron Caseta, Hue, Pi 3B+, Arlo, and Fing) with plans for another, and have yet more that I've managed to phase out. That's not to say those hubs are right for everyone (again, see my review thread), and I'm definitely not saying to buy any hub without researching what features it adds, but do not cut your nose off to spite your face by avoiding product lines just because there's a hub!
[Where are you going to use it?]
(At home! It's home automation! Duh!!)
Presence... It's a huge issue for home automation. Maybe even the most important issue. So, just going to define a few concepts for your consideration.
The Holy Grail of a smart home is being able to customize the environment to suit the specific people in the room/area, and specifically to suit their activity. For instance, you may want different lighting or sound settings if you are watching tv rather than your child, or have different things occur if your child is leaving the house rather than when you arrive, etc., etc. The only way to do that in a practical way within a home environment is through facial recognition cameras. Although it's technically feasible, at this time it's simply not practical for the vast majority of home owners. But there are ways to get pretty close.
There's geopresense (aka "geofencing"). You know what it is, but there's a lot more to it when applied inside a house. It can be used to determine, within some margin of error, if you're at home, but useless in saying which part of the home. And it can only track other people if they're willing to install an app (and have their phone with them). It can also be used for things like having left work, arrived at a vacation destination, or perhaps which section of your property like the golf course in your back yard or the squash court in the side yard.area
To determine if someone actually entered the house, or entered a specific room, you can use contact sensors, which indicates a door or window has been opened or closed. Obviously, this can't say who it was, or even if they're entering or exiting. They also require opening doors, which obviously often doesn't apply inside.
Motion detectors... well, you know what they do. There are some issues with them, such as sensitivity, polling rate, and false alarms (the vast majority of sensors see infrared changes, so heat sources will tend to throw them off). Still, they make for good lighting controls and such.
A few other "presence" types... There are pressure plates, vibration sensors, and beam sensors. Some of these are pretty uncommon, but if you're not adverse to DIY, they could be handy. For instance, a pressure sensor could tell if your car is parked, and a beam sensor can tell if the car has arrived. That is, a pressure plate can tell the difference between a car and a person, but is specific to only one specific location. A beam sensor can see between any two points, but can't tell the difference between a car and your grandmother's corpse.
Another option is BlueTooth. Using keychain fobs, specific people can be identified, and hypothetically located within a small-ish area, but still not good enough to pin-point a room/area. When combined with motion sensors, if people aren't in groups, you could get pretty close, for instance if only one person is in one part of the house, and a motion sensor is triggered for a specific room in that area, the system can know who is in what room.
Carefully combining these together - typically GPS, contact sensors, and/or motion sensors - you can get a good idea of where people are in a house. The closer you can get to the Holy Grail of knowing where people are, who they are, and what they are doing, the more automation can be fined-tuned to customize a house for them. Here's a post showing what creativity, planning, time, and pure stubbornness can accomplish.
[How are you going to stop using it?]
Shit happens. Plan for it. Example one... My dog likes to chew on my MagicCube and Pico remotes, which only control lights so no big deal, but if turning on a light while no one was home acted as a security alarm trigger, it'd be a big problem. Example two... a simple mistake in my automation code prevented lights from turning on or off - at all - and I couldn't stop right then to fix it. It's too easy to make a mistake, like having lights come on at 2am instead of 2pm, so put in overrides. Have options to disable routines. And use multi-point authentication systems for critical systems like alarms and locks. It doesn't take much to tank the SAF (Spouse Approval Factor), if not actually put you in physical danger.
Now on to the lists, but first a warning. Don't let them overwhelm you. The options with smart homes is long, but only the
biggest dicks most dedicated [sorry, just jealous] do more than maybe a double handful of them.
Note: The true wonder and power of home automation is being able to join together multiple triggers with multiple events for multiple devices, such as creating whole-house scenes, combining lighting, alerts, tv/movie player, fireplace, water features, etc., etc. It's impossible to list every combination, but... please share what you've done :-)
These are sorted roughly by category. The leading number in brackets is my opinion/guess on general difficulty (scale of 10, with 10 hardest), but that could drastically vary by specifics of the goal, how it's implemented, the platform, specific products, and how wrong my opinion is, so only use them if you don't know any better. "?" indicates it depends entirely on the platform.
submitted by redroguetech to homeautomation [link] [comments]
2020.08.14 02:40 PeepingTomThrowaway Toilet spy camera video
To start. I have always had this fetish by watching voyeur videos online. it never got so bad to the point of a few weeks ago when I decided to have my friends over my house. After the date was set, I purchased a couple of expensive spy cameras to put in my bathroom. When my friends came over I would interact with them while waiting for one of them to use the toilet. When one of my friends did I got so excited about it. once everyone went home I immediately watched the video on my phone and relieved my lust. After that I felt shame and guilt. Especially cause this friend is such a lovely and kind person. I know what I did was horrible and evil. But the lust just keeps coming back and I keep watching the video over and over. It has been several weeks and I still have the video. I know I should delete it. But the temptation is too strong and I worry I would feel regret if I delete it or if I throw away the cameras.
submitted by PeepingTomThrowaway to confessions [link] [comments]
2020.08.11 21:58 A_Vespertine Toilet spy camera video
"Damn it, Jess, you told me this place was abandoned! I'm out," I cursed as I turned my back to the stately, well-kept house that was very obviously not abandoned, making me lose whatever nerve I thought I had. Jess and I were what you might call ‘disenfranchised youths’. Our prospects for the future were pretty bleak, and we were pissed about it. With things only getting worse for us this year, we had decided we were finally pissed enough to do something about it. Or, at least pissed enough to do something that made us feel like we were doing something about it.
Our plan was to raid what we believed to be an unoccupied home of our town’s wealthiest resident, taking anything of value we could carry while tearing the place up to ‘send him a message’. Ostensibly, anyway. Looking back on it, we were just lashing out, with no real reason to believe one act of petty theft and vandalism would be the impetus for any great social change. It would more likely be the impetus for us spending the rest of the pandemic in prison.
“I never said it was abandoned. I said it was unoccupied,” Jess insisted as he grabbed me by the shoulder. “It’s a guest house, where Chamberlin keeps any out-of-town guests when his mansion is overflowing with pussy.”
“I’m pretty sure Chamberlin’s gay, actually,” I muttered disinterestedly, turning my attention back to the house to see if there was any merit to what he was saying. It was a squat, stone, rectangular house that looked to be about fifty feet by forty. Two stories, plus an attic and basement. That gave it at least four thousand square feet of living space, and twice that if the attic and basement weren’t just for storing wine and antiques.
But it was the spacious, well-landscaped lawn that really made me doubt it was vacant. Weeded flower beds, trim bushes, and grass that had clearly been mowed within the last week were enough to make any hooligans looking for an easy target think twice.
“You’re missing the point, Az. It’s a guest house, and he can’t exactly keep his Illuminati bros somewhere shabby, now can he?” Jess asked. “If it will make you feel better, we can stake the place out for a bit, but I’m telling you; no one’s home.”
I let out a reluctant sigh, folding my arms across my chest as I considered the admittedly quiet house.
“Even if no one’s home, there’s no way it’s not monitored by security,” I insisted.
“It isn’t. Chamberlin values his privacy; as anyone who’s into as much messed up shit as he is would,” Jess claimed. “There’s no live monitoring, just security cameras that feed into an encrypted, onsite hard drive.”
“And how would you know that?” I asked skeptically.
“There was a news story about it a while back,” he replied. “There was a whole court case or investigation or something trying to get access to his surveillance footage. It wasn’t about this place in particular, but it’s how he operates. Look, this is the safest of his properties to target because he doesn't waste his bodyguards here when there are no guests. What the fuck does he care about the maid and gardener popping in to keep everything looking swanky? No one’s going to be watching the camera feed, and even if they do look it over, we’re covered since we got these.”
He gestured to his now completely non-suspicious bandana, which he wore because he thought that the nose wires in face masks were 5G antennas meant to increase adrenochrome production, or some bullshit like that.
"Even if no one's watching the surveillance cameras, there will still be motion detectors and entry sensors that will alert Chamberlin's goons to a break-in,” I argued. “They’ll be here in minutes.”
“Not without video confirmation they won’t. They got other priorities,” Jess countered. “Chamberlin’s got his mansion, his villa, his financial firm, his luxury apartment building, his hotel, his country club, I think the strip club, and probably shit we don’t even know about. His security isn’t going to be in a rush to check out what might just be a false alarm on what for him is basically a spare mattress. They’ll take their sweet time, which means we can take ours.”
I sighed, trying to figure out if anything he was saying made any sense. He really was piling a lot of assumptions on top of each other, and for all we knew we'd already been spotted and flagged as suspicious by the most advanced security AI money could buy. But the news report he mentioned did ring a bell for me, and it made sense that Chamberlin wouldn't risk anyone spying on him through his security cameras. He also owned a lot of real estate, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume that a comparatively small guest house would be a low priority for his security force. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t come running right away.
The thought of the Dragon Smaug, exploding into a murderous rage upon noticing a single chalice had been stolen from his massive hoard, suddenly injected itself into my mind.
“Let’s find someplace we can watch the house unnoticed until after dark. If we don’t see any lights on, we’ll go for it,” I proposed. I was actually trying to save face, since even if no one was home, I was sure the lights would be automatic. An unlit house like that would be way too tempting to burgle. Jess agreed, and we faded back into the trees that shrouded the entirety of the property, mostly shielding it from public view.
Sunset came, and daylight faded, and yet not one light in, on, or around the house was lit up. It became so dark it was actually hard to make the nearly mansion-sized house out in the gloom.
“What did I tell you, man? Nobody’s home,” Jess declared as he started heading towards the stone fence. I started to object, but couldn’t think of anything to say. If Chamberlin didn’t even care enough about this place to put the lights on a timer, then Jess was probably right about the security being lax. I jogged over to him and together we hopped the fence and sprinted across the spacious lawn.
“Watch out for the koi pond,” Jess warned as we narrowly avoided walking into the decorative pool. “That’s more of what I’m talking about right there. Chamberlin’s real mansion’s got peacocks and flamingos and shit, and he has riding horses at his villa. A koi pond is some cheap ass landscaping for someone as loaded as him.”
“Jess – have you been to Chamberlin’s houses?” I asked curiously.
“What? No. What the hell would someone like me be doing in places like those?” he scoffed. “As far as he’s concerned, people like us aren’t even qualified to scrub his toilets.”
“It’s just that, this is starting to sound kind of personal, and I thought we were just trying to ‘stick it to the man’ or something,” I explained.
“That is all we’re doing; grabbing what we can and shitting on the rest from someone so rich they wouldn’t give a damn if we burned the whole house down,” Jess claimed as we reached the back door. He tried turning the knob, but it turned out that the maid did lock up on her way out. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a pair of improvised lock picks he’d learned to make from a YouTube tutorial.
“You’ve done this before, right?” I asked skeptically.
"I've been practicing, yeah. Don't worry, I'll have this open in a couple of minutes," he assured me. I sighed, and as the seconds ticked by, I started to wonder if bashing the door down or breaking a window would make enough noise for a neighbour to call the police. Fortunately, it seemed I’d underestimated him, and he had the door open in barely a minute.
I froze, expecting some kind of alarm siren to start blaring, but there was nothing but silence and a dark hallway before us. Far from being emboldened by our level of success so far, a feeling of dread began to wash over me.
“Call me paranoid, but this is starting to feel too easy,” I said, the anxiety knotting in my stomach, pushing me to the verge of vomiting.
“Az, how many times do we have to go over this? Chamberlin not springing for decent security on this place is no weirder than an average guy leaving a tool shed unlocked,” he insisted, his tone growing irritable and impatient. “Get your flashlight out and let’s go! We’re wasting time!”
With a reluctant nod, I fumbled with my flashlight and followed him into the house.
The back hall led directly into a large living area, with furniture arranged in a way that reminded me more of a ski or hunting lodge rather than someone’s house.
“Holy shit, check out that TV! It’s almost a hundred inches, and probably 8K!" I said in an excited whisper. Without saying a word, Jess unsheathed his crowbar and started smashing it. "Dude, what the hell! Do you have any idea what we could get for that?"
“We can’t smuggle a hundred-inch TV out of here. Use your head!” he chastised me as the television fell off its mount and crashed to the ground. He moved his way into the kitchen and started smashing what I could only assume was antique bone china, something which was definitely transportable and pawnable.
“Not personal, my ass,” I muttered under my breath. Rather than join him in whatever catharsis he was trying to achieve, I slowly moved my flashlight across the living room in the hopes of finding something worth pocketing. My beam settled on a large, 19th-century portrait above the mantle, depicting three well-dressed businessmen. The one in the middle looked like Chamberlin – tall, slender, and handsome with dark brown hair, dressed all in reds, and that same punchable smug smirk on his face. I assumed it was his great-grandfather or something. I knew he had roots in Sombermorey going back a couple of hundred years or so.
The frail man to his right was older, with bushy white hair, pale greyish skin, and a pointed beard and nose. The only thing about him that didn’t look old and fragile were his vibrant green eyes. I got an odd sense of déjà vu then, like I had seen people who looked like that before, but I had no idea where.
The man on the other side of the portrait was the shortest of the three, but also the heaviest, looking to weigh more than the other two put together. There didn’t appear to be any neck connecting his round head to his pear-shaped torso, and he had a moustache and hat that were both small enough to be slightly comical.
It suddenly clicked in my head that these must be the Crow, Crowley & Chamberlin that Chamberlin’s financial firm was named after. It seemed that the Chamberlin line was the only one still around – an idea that made me more than a little uneasy.
“Jess! Hey Jess!” I hissed, hoping his little temper tantrum in the kitchen was drawing to a close.
“What?” he gasped between breaths.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, and right now I don’t care, but I came here for loot,” I reminded him. “Let’s go upstairs and check the bedrooms for jewellery or something."
Jess nodded and sheathed his crowbar. He didn't look sated, just resigned to the fact that what he was doing wasn't actually going to make him feel any better about whatever was bothering him.
We crept quietly up to the second floor, though I don’t know why. Since Jess’s little rampage in the kitchen hadn’t brought anyone downstairs, it seemed safe to assume the house was deserted. Once we were upstairs, I just turned the first doorknob in front of me, expecting to find nothing more extraordinary than a neatly kept spare bedroom.
Instead, what I stumbled into was some kind of 19th-century laboratory. It ran most of the length of the second floor, and I suspected that maybe it had at one point been multiple adjacent bedrooms, since there were a couple more exits into the hallway further down. There were tall bookshelves holding well over a thousand hardbound tomes, alongside shorter, sturdier shelves for jars and vials of strange liquids, preserved specimens, and unsettling looking artifacts. There was a writing desk, a telescope, and three workbenches, none of which had any chairs by them. A section of ceiling was missing at the far end, enabling a mechanical lift to ascend into the attic, and likely down to the lower floors as well. Throughout the room was a haphazard collection of steampunk looking contraptions of all shapes and sizes, the crown jewel of which was an actual brain in a vat.
The brain, along with a little bit of its original spinal cord, was buoyantly suspended in a clear, bubbling liquid. The vat was mounted on a wheeled podium made from dark oak and polished brass. The front side sported several closed panels and an analogue interface of glass dials and ebony knobs. Beneath and beside the panel was a pair of shelves, each of which supported a folded-up, mechanical arm with a claw grasper. To one side of the vat itself was a polished gramophone horn, and on the other side was a miniature Tesla coil. On the backside there was an accordion-like bellows, constantly rising and falling, which was presumably what was aerating the vat.
Strangest of all, perched on top of the vat was a vintage bowler hat.
“What the fuck?” I muttered as I stepped into the room, taking in the bizarre scene as quickly as I could. I spun around to Jess, who looked just as confused as I was. “Did you know about this?”
“No way man, I swear. This is some Jules Verne shit or something,” he replied, slowly stepping towards the brain in the vat. “I’m not a doctor, but this brain looks real to me. This thing isn’t just some Halloween decoration or something; it’s an actual preserved human brain.”
“That is so fucked up, man. Why would someone preserve an actual person’s brain like that?” I asked, shirking away from the abomination in mortified horror.
“Like I said, Chamberlin’s a fucked-up dude,” Jess replied, a devilish grin spreading across his face.
“Jess, dude, what are you thinking?” I asked, already know what he was going to say.
“Only that this freaky thing here must be a hell of a lot more irreplaceable than a TV and some dishes," he answered, raising his crowbar to smash the vat to smithereens.
Before I could object, the Tesla coil sprang to life and shot him with a bolt of indigo electricity, sending him tumbling backwards and crashing to the floor.
“What the fuck!” he screamed, clutching his torso in agony. The brain began to glow with a ghostly blue aura, tendrils lapping out at the vat like a plasma ball, and the podium rolled itself on creaking wheels towards us.
“Well lads, I was hoping not to have to play my hand, but you’ve gone ahead and forced the issue,” a monotone voice boomed from the gramophone horn.
“Jesus Christ, you’re alive!” I screamed.
“Better! Alchemically Reanimated!” it boasted. “A proprietary concoction of protoplasmotic rejuvenatives and protectorants was all that was required to keep me from the Dread Persephone’s realm.”
I told myself that it couldn’t be real, that it was some remote-controlled prop someone was using to scare us, but… the brain, the undeniably real, human brain, was able to move about inside the vat with the ease of lively fish. It was moving itself with that inexplicable aura that flickered when it spoke. I tried to think of everything I knew about cryogenics and brain-computer interfaces to find some possible rational explanation, but there wasn’t one. I was staring at a glowing, disembodied, still conscious brain in a vat that was telepathically controlling a clockwork, lightning-shooting automaton.
“Az, run,” Jess gasped, pleading with me to leave him behind. I wasn’t ready to leave him just yet though, so I tried dragging him towards the door. Another bolt from the Tesla coil not only slammed the door shut but locked it as well, demonstrating far more precision than should have been possible.
“Sorry gents, but I’m afraid an Irish Goodbye is quite off the table,” the brain informed us. “Allow me to properly introduce myself then; I am Professor Whitaker C. Crowley, or at least what’s left of him; occult scholar, alchemical consultant, and silent partner in the enterprises of Seneca Chamberlin.”
“Silent partner?” I scoffed. The thing had the volume control of a Dalek.
“I am aware of the irony of that title!” it screeched. “Your friend is dying, so I’d advise you to watch the sass if you expect any help from me!”
I looked down to take a good look at Jess, and saw that the brain was right. He was bleeding out, no doubt about it. I nodded my head in somber agreement, slowly rising to my feet and lifting my hands over my head.
“Can you help him?” I asked softly.
“No, Az, please. I know what this thing does to people. I won’t be one of its experiments!” Jess ranted as he coughed up blood.
“You make it sound like I’m some sort of mad scientist,” the glowing brain in the vat chuckled through its gramophone, the pattern of arcing light forming the outline of a smile. As horrifying as it was to look at, the implications of what Jess had just said sunk in nonetheless.
“You know what this thing does?” I asked him coldly. “Jess, what the fuck have you gotten us into?”
“I know. I lied. I’m sorry. I was in pretty deep with Chamberlin, but that’s over now, and I swear to God I didn’t know that this was where he kept that thing!” Jess screamed as the red splotch on his chest grew larger.
“Struggle all you want boy; you’ll only bleed out faster,” Crowley said as he wheeled over to his shelf of potions. His bronze graspers unfolded, and began preparing a syringe. "Do you feel him yet? Cold Hades grasping at you, pulling you down to his Underworld? You don't want to spend eternity there. Trust me, I know. But one shot of this to your brainstem and your consciousness can stay bound to your central nervous system forever. Granted, if you've yet to master astral projection, the experience seems to be… less than idyllic, but I’ll leave it to the philosophy majors to debate if it’s worse than literal Hell.”
“Az, don’t let him stick me with that stuff man!” Jess pleaded, tears of existential terror streaming down his cheeks. Crowley was coming straight at us now, his Tesla coil already crackling, ready to put either of us down in an instant if he needed to. My eyes darted around wildly for any possible weapons, but the only things within reach were monstrous deformities preserved in formaldehyde.
I grabbed one and held it out like a crucifix between us and Crowley, hoping he was smart enough to realize what I was threatening him with.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, though the fact that he backed up a bit while turning down his Tesla coil suggested he knew exactly what I was doing.
"This is formaldehyde. It's flammable, even explosive, right?" I asked. "You pull any more of your Palpatine crap on us and your whole lab goes up in flames!"
Crowley made a sort of sighing sound with his bellows, and shut his Tesla coil off completely.
“Now drop the syringe!” I ordered. This time, Crowley hesitated. “Drop it!”
"I'll set it down; it would be a shame to waste it," he said as he placed the needle onto the nearest table. Jess started to laugh, and with his last remaining strength brought himself to his feet.
“Now, my friend and I are leaving, and you’re staying here, got it?” I asked authoritatively.
“No Az, you’re the only one getting out of here,” Jess said, picking up a jar with a pickled Polyphemus inside. “I’m dying no matter what, and I’m not going to die for nothing.”
Before I could say anything, he charged at Crowley, smashing the jar right over the Tesla coil. I watched in horror as the two grappled each other, Crowley’s graspers crushing Jess’s hands, but Jess slamming Crowley against another shelf, bringing multiple jars of formaldehyde down on both of them. Either in panic, desperation, or just a short circuit, Crowley fired his Tesla coil, immediately sparking a blaze that engulfed them both.
“Run!” was Jess’s final word to me. There was nothing I could have done to save him then, so I ran. I ran past them and out the next door down from the one we came through, down the hall, down the stairs, and out the back as the second floor burned behind me. I’m not sure how I managed to jump the fence without Jess’s help, but I did. Adrenaline, I guess.
The next day, the news reported that Jess had died in the fire. They said the fire was arson, that Jess was the arsonist, and made no mention of a secret laboratory run by a floating brain.
I don't know if Crowley survived the fire. I don't know if he managed to inject Jess with whatever that stuff was, or if it really did what he said it did. I also don't know if Chamberlin knows I had anything to do with the fire or break-in, but I left town in a hurry anyway. I’ve gotten pretty far north, pretty remote, but maybe not remote enough. There's a real nice gold sedan parked across from where I am right now, probably too nice for anyone who lives nearby.
If the worst happens to me, I want to make sure that a public record of what really happened exists somewhere. Jess wasn’t an arsonist; he died trying to kill an abomination that never should have existed in the first place.
I only hope for both of our sakes, for all of our sakes, that he succeeded.
submitted by A_Vespertine to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
2020.07.16 17:35 16JJulbarium Spy camera video toilet
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submitted by 16JJulbarium to Home_Made_Fun [link] [comments]
2020.05.08 02:31 Gotridof Toilet spy camera video
First time posting, long time reader, short time member of Reddit.
Not sure if this is pro revenge, nuclear revenge, or nuclear ghosting but here goes:
The players are:
Myself Fiancé Fiancé’s Mom
Time frame – 2013 to 2016
It has obviously been several years since the incident and I literally have never told anyone in my new life about this. Tonight I have some good wine to drink and figure I'll let my fingers do the talking.
I thought I had met the perfect woman. We met in the last year of college. We met at a party and hit it off instantly. She was a beautiful blonde with sun kissed skin and she could have been a model. (think Kate Upton type figure) She was kind, compassionate, sympathetic, good listener, and had and active life with many friends. She liked my friends and it was awesome over the three years we knew each other in how our friend groups merged. Several of our friends began dating each other. It was some of the best times of my life.
I was on for a post grad in finance and she had a degree in contractual law. This is just to say we ended up being successful in our own rights.
But I’m no slouch in the looks department either. 5’ 11” 190 lbs and liked the gym. I wasn’t a super athlete but let’s just say I was built. But I was/am very shy and didn’t have a lot of prior relationships prior to meeting her.
The first evening we met, we were smitten. First night we talked all night. Then it went to texting/phone calls daily, then dates weekly, then after a year (when I started working my new job) she moved in. I loved her family and her family loved me. (Mostly her mother as her father was standoffish – as he was to everyone). It was a whirlwind romance.
After two and a half blissful years of overseas vacations, hiking trips and luxury vacations I proposed to her. She said YES! I was over the moon. She was doing all the planning for the wedding. We were talking about our futures together, buying a house, children and family trips that we were going to take together and all such things like that.
Then it happened. One evening after we both get home to our apartment; she is a little distant. I think I noticed it right away as we were always very affectionate towards each other. This would only happen about once a week for the first month (after proposal) then it was more frequent. I would have been none the wiser except that I used to listen to a lot of Reddit on YouTube. So, I waited and observed. These bouts of ignoring me would only last a couple of hours then she would be right back to normal. But after six months (wedding in a year) she was like this almost every night.
Sex was still great. Relationship with her parents still great, but over Thanksgiving at her parents’ home in Louisville, Kentucky (we lived just north of DC) she was standoffish towards me in front of her mother.
Now her mother was a very observant woman. She pulled her daughter aside to talk to her and I could hear them arguing. After some heated but muffled words they returned to the rest of the family and carried on like nothing was going on. I figured I could ask her about it later and did. She was not willing to talk about it and asked me to wait till we were home to discuss it. I agreed as I loved her deeply and thought we could work through anything.
Her mother was an older version of her. Same stunning looks (just a few grays in her long thick blonde hair). This is important later.
Back home I asked her about it, and she was unwilling to discuss it. When pressed on it for a week she finally confessed that a guy at her work was trying to get to know her better. She wanted to be forth coming so she showed me her phone and as I looked through it I noticed that all the texts that would have happened during the times she was withdrawing from me were removed. There was nothing untoward in the texts. But I did go into her phone settings and turned on her locator on her phone as we shared the same phone plan. And I honestly thought it would make me see that she was not doing anything wrong.
Was I wrong. That second weekend after Thanksgiving she had a company Christmas party. I had planned on going but came down with food poisoning and had to back out. She had a girlfriend pick her from our apartment as they planned on drinking a lot a had a DD for the evening. We had planned on going out all night so I told her to have a blast and I would see her in the morning.
So, as I’m puking my guts out and barely able to get off the toilet for more than thirty minutes, I grabbed my phone and watched her location. First it was a restaurant, then the venue of the company party, then a bar. None of this alarmed me until I saw her phone stop in a downtown hotel. At this point I was miserable in more ways than three. Projectile vomiting out my butt, mouth and now soul. I finally fell asleep due to sheer exhaustion at 2 AM. At 7 AM I awoke and saw she was still at the hotel.
At noon she finally comes home, and I am on the mend. She loves me up and I asked her about the previous night without mentioning anything about knowing her locations. She talks about the restaurant, party, the bar, but then says she went to her girlfriend’s house to crash for the evening. – first lie.
For the next three months she has to start working later and later three to four days a week. As I start asking her about it, she becomes more and more defensive. I talked to her mom one evening when fiancé didn’t come home until late. I asked her mom about the Thanksgiving conversation and she admitted to me that she thought her daughter might be stepping out of our relationship, because of how she read her body language. She also said that her daughter was being more and more distant with her in their weekly texting conversations.
With all this speculation that was going on in my mind I kept it to myself. Two weeks later at work I ended up getting a new project at my company that was going to require me to fly to the Midwest Monday through Friday for the next five weeks starting in two weeks. It came with an increase in salary and as I broke the news to my fiancé, she was delighted for me. I didn’t think though that she was excited for the same reasons I was. So, I went online and ordered four motion activated spy cameras for my apartment. I put one in the living room/entry area, one in the kitchen, one in our bedroom and one looking down our hallway. They were very small and connected to the internet via a hidden network so they couldn’t be spotted on the WiFi network. I secured the cams with a password and waited.
On my first week out she had girlfriends over the first two nights and never worked late once. The third night a guy came over. I was enraged. I’m sitting there in my hotel room screaming at the monitor and calling her every name in the book. Then they went all the way – first on the couch, then in our bed. She bent for ways for him that I didn’t know were possible. What was the worst was as I am watching them get it on I call her to see how her day went. She hears her phone ringing and holds her hand up for him to stop giving her anal and answers the call. I ask why she is breathing heavy and said she was at the gym working out. As soon as the call is over she goes right back to doing the dirty.
When I got home Friday evening, I ignored her and went right to bed, and early Saturday got up and went cycling. I was so upset that I didn’t even realize that I biked over fifty miles from our apartment. The furthest I had biked before was thirty miles. But that day I went 105.6 miles. Getting back absolutely exhausted I showered. Then she and I went out that evening and had fun with our friends and had A LOT to drink. (Is it breakup sex when the one you’re going to break up with is oblivious?)
I was bursting inside. Heartbreak, anger, rage feelings of betrayal all swirled around in my heart and mind. She, who used to be so attentive was oblivious to all this. It hurt so much because I loved her so much.
I finally confided in one of our mutual friends and he told me that they all knew about it for months! I was finally told – they all felt sorry for me, but no one again said a damn thing to me. Which is why they stopped inviting us out with them. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I could look back and see that about three months prior they gradually invited us/me less and less.
So, I figured I would try and win her back – the next weekend I planned the entire weekend as a complete weekend of spoiling her in every way. Wined and dined, pampering, massages, rubs, and talking to her about future plans and about how much I loved her. I knew I was starting to break through when after her forth glass of wine she started to cry, and I could tell the guilt was coming up to the surface.
I asked her what was wrong, but she would choke up every time she tried to speak. I then told her that if she did something in her past or was having some kind of conflict in her mind that she needed to speak to me about that I was more than willing to talk with her about it and if forgiveness was needed then I was more than willing to forgive and move on. The only words that came out of her mouth in her was how much she loved me.
It actually hurt to hear that from her as I now had four separate videos of her and the other guy in our apartment getting it on.
Over the next eight weeks of traveling to the Midwest (the trips lasted for what would be ten weeks) I recorded over 41 hours of her having sex with what I found out was her coworker. She never worked late once while I was gone.
I tried every weekend to be extra attentive and each week she got more and more distant. After watching this for eight weeks I was done so I devised a 12 step get away plan.
2020.04.06 17:54 YeeeBoiiss Toilet spy camera video