http://mypornprofile.com/23880/rydenarmani
http://www.freeones.com/html/r_links/bioEdit_Ryden_Armani.php
www.amateurporn.com/rydenarmani
http://rydenarmani.com/home
https://www.reddit.com/user/rydenanne
Her twitter Handle used to be "Misskeyblade" but she abandoned that name and its now in use by someone completely different. Her current one is "RydenGG"
https://twitter.com/RydenGG
Can't be friends with those who disagree politically, oh heavens no!
https://twitter.com/RydenGG/status/742832089867816960
http://archive.md/Sj8hY
And now for the reason I bring this character to you guys, her featuring on lolcowchan
https://lolcow.farm/pt/res/73491.html
An Anon on lolcowchan says: "
Couple people asked for a thread on this lolcow camwhore, so here it goes.
She's posted underaged nudes on 4chan in a sad attempt to become a chan since she was 14. Used to go by snorl4x and misskeyblade. Videos of her sucking dick as an underaged are out there, she did it on a public chat for 4chan but blames her exboyfriend for leaking the videos.
2 years ago when Amanda Todd killed herself because people leaked her nudes, she literally went around saying that she was happy that AT killed herself, saying that it was a good thing, saying stuff like "fuck yes that cunt with ugly nipples deserved to die" and making jokes about it. Never genuinely apologized for it and didn't even bother deleting the posts (they're still on her twitter I'm pretty sure). Also made fun of disabled people all the time.
Used to be BEST FRIENDS with Hunter Moore (a guy who got arrested for running a revenge porn site and exploiting/blackmailing girls for money/nudes). Like she was so close with him it is insane. Sucked his dick every single day and joined in on his fun little shenanigans. She tries to hide it ever since people started disliking him to fit in with her SJW friends.
She's a huge asshole SJW who will jump down ANYONE'S throat for racism/sexism/transphobia/etc/etc despite being a huge closet racist/etc herself. Used to/still makes fun of people people on the regular but acts like she is above all of that. Constantly calls out the website she works at for being racist (they host "nigger" porn - like it's literally called that) and yet she still works for it, making them a lot of money, because she knows that her time is running out and its the only way she will make any money
Harasses other girls who post CP, harasses new cam models all the time for making their "videos too cheap" (because no one wants to buy her crappy $15 videos), constantly complains about people having "daddy/little girl" fetishes despite having one herself.
Desperately tried to get a trap to become a model on GodsGirls (an all-woman site) while at the same exact time claiming that fat women shouldn't be allowed on because they're not "real women" - yes, and a dude in a dress to her is more of a woman than that. When she was called out on it by several other camwhores she deleted all the posts and acted like it never happened.
Has a sex toy store where she literally scams people IMO. She sells fake sex toys for a 20-50% markup. Like I can go purchase a dildo from the real manufacturer and get next day delivery for $20 but she will be selling it for $40. When you ask her why, she just claims that hers are "authentic" and "super safe". Also the amount of asks she sends herself about her store is insane. No one fucking buys from it, its hilarious.
White trailer trash. Dates an older guy who has a 14 year old daughter. He is a pervert who likes to roleplay daddy/daughter fetishes. He has 3 other girlfriends and she does not see other people and they call this "polygamy". She pays all their bills with her internet beggary money while he works a job at taco bell or some shit and spends all his money on shoes, hats and video game consoles. Yet she can never stop going on about how "in love" they are. Yeah, he brings home other girls to fuck while she pays the bills. True love.
Despite all this, she still acts like she's the epitome of morality and political correctness and social justice. Fuck her."
Couple people asked for a thread on this lolcow camwhore, so here it goes.
She's posted underaged nudes on 4chan in a sad attempt to become a chan since she was 14. Used to go by snorl4x and misskeyblade. Videos of her sucking dick as an underaged are out there, she did it on a public chat for 4chan but blames her exboyfriend for leaking the videos.
2 years ago when Amanda Todd killed herself because people leaked her nudes, she literally went around saying that she was happy that AT killed herself, saying that it was a good thing, saying stuff like "fuck yes that cunt with ugly nipples deserved to die" and making jokes about it. Never genuinely apologized for it and didn't even bother deleting the posts (they're still on her twitter I'm pretty sure). Also made fun of disabled people all the time.
Used to be BEST FRIENDS with Hunter Moore (a guy who got arrested for running a revenge porn site and exploiting/blackmailing girls for money/nudes). Like she was so close with him it is insane. Sucked his dick every single day and joined in on his fun little shenanigans. She tries to hide it ever since people started disliking him to fit in with her SJW friends.
She's a huge asshole SJW who will jump down ANYONE'S throat for racism/sexism/transphobia/etc/etc despite being a huge closet racist/etc herself. Used to/still makes fun of people people on the regular but acts like she is above all of that. Constantly calls out the website she works at for being racist (they host "nigger" porn - like it's literally called that) and yet she still works for it, making them a lot of money, because she knows that her time is running out and its the only way she will make any money
Harasses other girls who post CP, harasses new cam models all the time for making their "videos too cheap" (because no one wants to buy her crappy $15 videos), constantly complains about people having "daddy/little girl" fetishes despite having one herself.
Desperately tried to get a trap to become a model on GodsGirls (an all-woman site) while at the same exact time claiming that fat women shouldn't be allowed on because they're not "real women" - yes, and a dude in a dress to her is more of a woman than that. When she was called out on it by several other camwhores she deleted all the posts and acted like it never happened.
Has a sex toy store where she literally scams people IMO. She sells fake sex toys for a 20-50% markup. Like I can go purchase a dildo from the real manufacturer and get next day delivery for $20 but she will be selling it for $40. When you ask her why, she just claims that hers are "authentic" and "super safe". Also the amount of asks she sends herself about her store is insane. No one fucking buys from it, its hilarious.
White trailer trash. Dates an older guy who has a 14 year old daughter. He is a pervert who likes to roleplay daddy/daughter fetishes. He has 3 other girlfriends and she does not see other people and they call this "polygamy". She pays all their bills with her internet beggary money while he works a job at taco bell or some shit and spends all his money on shoes, hats and video game consoles. Yet she can never stop going on about how "in love" they are. Yeah, he brings home other girls to fuck while she pays the bills. True love.
Despite all this, she still acts like she's the epitome of morality and political correctness and social justice. Fuck her."
And here's a little sample of her reddit content, which is honestly a little creepy and probably haram in many SJ circles
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/2yyrmf/my_dad_kidnapped_little_girls/
"I don’t ever remember my dad being normal. He was always a little strange. The man was secretive and closed off, and all his attempts at acting like a father rose the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed forced. I don’t think I ever got used to that. There was no need, because he didn’t keep that up for long. By the time I was 5, I didn’t have a dad. What I had after that was a boss. Maybe an owner. Definitely not a dad.
He fully opened up as a person around that time. He brought a little girl into our home. She was small, but she was older than myself, too. Maybe 7 or 8. Her face was red and raw with tears. “Sam, this is your new little sister, Maria.” Before I could react, she spoke up between small sobs. “No, mister. I don’t know you. My name is Claire. Please take me home to my mommy, I promise that I won’t tell.” By the time she finished what she was saying, she was barely forming coherent sentences. That’s when I saw my Dad stop being my dad. With one fluid motion, he swung his arm, hitting her in the face and knocking her back on her ass.
I jumped up, too afraid and confused to do much of anything, but still frightened nonetheless. I was young, but I’d seen enough television to know that normal families didn’t do these things. “Sam, you sit your ass down or I’ll put you in the ground, you hear me?” Thus marked the loss of my father. Later, as I listened to the quiet cries of the girl, now locked in the room next to mine, he sat me down and explained that he wasn’t my father. He told me things a 5 year old should never hear. My life changed forever. I was a mistake.
The little girl was with us for a while. My dad left me at home while he went to the mall, buying all kinds of nice things for Maria. Claire. Whatever. He probably blew $500. The weeks afterward were strange, disgusting, and violent all at the same time. At the best, she would play along with his games and he would be happy. At the worst, I would have to listen to her screams as he did unspeakable things to her in the next room. After, when the screaming would stop, he would come to me and give me the same speech.
“This happens because you aren’t right, you understand? You should have been born a girl. We wouldn’t have to do this. She’s going to die someday because you’re trash.” He would walk to the door and finish with “Remember, Sam. No one out in that world will ever love you. If you try to leave, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”
Maria died about three months after my dad took her. This day wasn’t her first attempt at escape, but instead it was her last. Truly, I do not know if my father meant to kill her or not. He became consumed in his rage and I fought back tears as he continued to hit her and hit her, over and over again. Her little light went out as she choked on blood, gurgling sounds coming from her throat. She was buried in our back yard, right next to the playset that my father bought a year before. After that, he became nervous to the point where he packed me up and we started off on the road.
We lived like that for years. Sometimes, we’d live somewhere as long as a year, but that was the extent of it. On a good year, he’d take two or three girls without so much as a second look. People didn’t necessarily suspect him, though. He was a psycho, but the man was smart too. He would falsify documents and references, getting himself jobs as close to children as possible. I remember, one time, he was hired on to be an ice cream truck driver. He snatched up a little girl he called Gloria right in front of her house. He somehow managed to finish his route, too. She only lasted two months.
I was 13 when he started taking me with him on “pick-ups.” I hated it, and I’d even choke back tears when the little girls would sit in the floor of the back seat, crying and begging to be taken home to their mommies and daddies. He would ignore them, and ignore me. He would go on-and-on about what a great dad he was going to be to them. In short, it was sickening.
Hannah was the last, and she was quite different. Rather than having to snatch her up, she surprisingly went willingly. She was a bit older than most of the little girls he picked. She wore a school uniform. Her hair was long, and dark, with blunt bangs. Crawling into the back seat, this strange little girl buckled herself in. She was extremely calm, and to the unknowing eye, it looked as if she belonged there. A little girl, being picked up from school by her father and older brother. I looked back at her from the passenger seat, feeling extremely puzzled. She beamed a smile back that was so sweet, it was almost sickly.
For some reason, my dad saw nothing wrong with this, and was overjoyed with his new catch. I watched her from the corner of my eye as he gave his normal routine speech. Most little girls cried, this little girl smiled and nodded knowingly. We got back home, and it wasn’t long before things started in as usual. He had her dress in one of those horribly tacky babydoll dresses and drink tea with him at a small table in “her room.” She played along, with a look in her eye that was far older than what she said her age was, which she said was 11. He corrected her “No, sugarpee, you’re 7.” She nodded.
As I sat in a chair on the far side of the room, next to the door (I was made to sit in, in case I needed to do any type of chore for him) she started to speak more fluently than an 11 year old girl should be able to be. “Let me ask you something. Why do you do this?” Her voice, though knowledgeable, was incredibly sweet. “What do you mean” he replied, looking very confused. “I mean, why do you snatch up little girls as if you own them? Do you feel entitled to that? Did something fucked up happen to you when you were a child, and now you’re so skewed that you’re obsessed with little girls?” She said all of this in a sing-song type of voice, but her eyes were cold and piercing.
He was startled more than anything, but that didn’t stop him for swinging. His fist landed on her cheek hard, and her head flew into the wall. She stood as if this didn’t phase her at all. I was frozen entirely as he stood up, readying himself for the next strike he would almost surely give. She spoke again. “Ah, yes. Take your anger out on me because little girls beat you up all your life for being an awkward, disgusting loser.” She almost cackled now, and that child-like glee was gone now. What replaced it was frightening. She knew exactly what she was talking about. My father was frozen entirely this time, so taken back by the reality of the words she said.
She cooly and casually walked towards the bedroom door. However, instead of opening to leave, she just opened and looked me in the eye. “I’m giving you one chance to leave. I still see good in you. He hasn’t broken you yet.” She put out her hand, and I’ll never know why I opted to grab it. I was horrified, and the thought that nobody in the world will love me nailed me down for the 8 or so years before. Still, something so powerful just pulsated from this little girl’s body, I almost felt like it wasn’t me doing it at all. I got out of the door before collapsing in the wood-floored hallway, where I sat motionless for hours, listening to my fathers intense wails of pain.
I don’t know how long it took before the screams died all together. It might have been 8 hours. It could have been only one. I still don’t know. I opened the door to find the room empty, besides a corpse so bloody and broken that it would have been unrecognizable had it not been for the broken, bloodstained glasses that sat nearby. His glasses. There was no sign of the girl. I still don’t know how she got out of the room. The only exit was the one I came out of, and I never saw her leave. The police showed up only a half an hour later. Despite there being a little distance between our neighbors houses and ours, his screams were loud enough to be heard all over town.
In the police station, I felt raw. No one had talked to me other than to ask me what happened. Their voices felt extremely foreign. I was homeschooled, so the only person I ever really had contact with was my dad. One detective finally sat down and just talked to me. Asked me the normal kind of things you’d ask a boy going on 14. I didn’t have answers to most of the questions though. Still, she was so sweet and warm, and after hours of normal talk, I finally opened up and told her everything.
In all, they were able to close 24 cold cases all over the east coast. I was able to point police in the direction of almost all the bodies that were never found. After that, I went to a special schooling program for kids like myself, went through several foster families, and I’ve grown up to be mostly normal.
Still, I have no idea who that little girl was, or what happened to her. I never even knew her real name. I do know one thing, though: she’s still out there. I don’t know what she was or how she knew what she did, but as I look at my two daughters today, I silently thank her."
"I don’t ever remember my dad being normal. He was always a little strange. The man was secretive and closed off, and all his attempts at acting like a father rose the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed forced. I don’t think I ever got used to that. There was no need, because he didn’t keep that up for long. By the time I was 5, I didn’t have a dad. What I had after that was a boss. Maybe an owner. Definitely not a dad.
He fully opened up as a person around that time. He brought a little girl into our home. She was small, but she was older than myself, too. Maybe 7 or 8. Her face was red and raw with tears. “Sam, this is your new little sister, Maria.” Before I could react, she spoke up between small sobs. “No, mister. I don’t know you. My name is Claire. Please take me home to my mommy, I promise that I won’t tell.” By the time she finished what she was saying, she was barely forming coherent sentences. That’s when I saw my Dad stop being my dad. With one fluid motion, he swung his arm, hitting her in the face and knocking her back on her ass.
I jumped up, too afraid and confused to do much of anything, but still frightened nonetheless. I was young, but I’d seen enough television to know that normal families didn’t do these things. “Sam, you sit your ass down or I’ll put you in the ground, you hear me?” Thus marked the loss of my father. Later, as I listened to the quiet cries of the girl, now locked in the room next to mine, he sat me down and explained that he wasn’t my father. He told me things a 5 year old should never hear. My life changed forever. I was a mistake.
The little girl was with us for a while. My dad left me at home while he went to the mall, buying all kinds of nice things for Maria. Claire. Whatever. He probably blew $500. The weeks afterward were strange, disgusting, and violent all at the same time. At the best, she would play along with his games and he would be happy. At the worst, I would have to listen to her screams as he did unspeakable things to her in the next room. After, when the screaming would stop, he would come to me and give me the same speech.
“This happens because you aren’t right, you understand? You should have been born a girl. We wouldn’t have to do this. She’s going to die someday because you’re trash.” He would walk to the door and finish with “Remember, Sam. No one out in that world will ever love you. If you try to leave, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”
Maria died about three months after my dad took her. This day wasn’t her first attempt at escape, but instead it was her last. Truly, I do not know if my father meant to kill her or not. He became consumed in his rage and I fought back tears as he continued to hit her and hit her, over and over again. Her little light went out as she choked on blood, gurgling sounds coming from her throat. She was buried in our back yard, right next to the playset that my father bought a year before. After that, he became nervous to the point where he packed me up and we started off on the road.
We lived like that for years. Sometimes, we’d live somewhere as long as a year, but that was the extent of it. On a good year, he’d take two or three girls without so much as a second look. People didn’t necessarily suspect him, though. He was a psycho, but the man was smart too. He would falsify documents and references, getting himself jobs as close to children as possible. I remember, one time, he was hired on to be an ice cream truck driver. He snatched up a little girl he called Gloria right in front of her house. He somehow managed to finish his route, too. She only lasted two months.
I was 13 when he started taking me with him on “pick-ups.” I hated it, and I’d even choke back tears when the little girls would sit in the floor of the back seat, crying and begging to be taken home to their mommies and daddies. He would ignore them, and ignore me. He would go on-and-on about what a great dad he was going to be to them. In short, it was sickening.
Hannah was the last, and she was quite different. Rather than having to snatch her up, she surprisingly went willingly. She was a bit older than most of the little girls he picked. She wore a school uniform. Her hair was long, and dark, with blunt bangs. Crawling into the back seat, this strange little girl buckled herself in. She was extremely calm, and to the unknowing eye, it looked as if she belonged there. A little girl, being picked up from school by her father and older brother. I looked back at her from the passenger seat, feeling extremely puzzled. She beamed a smile back that was so sweet, it was almost sickly.
For some reason, my dad saw nothing wrong with this, and was overjoyed with his new catch. I watched her from the corner of my eye as he gave his normal routine speech. Most little girls cried, this little girl smiled and nodded knowingly. We got back home, and it wasn’t long before things started in as usual. He had her dress in one of those horribly tacky babydoll dresses and drink tea with him at a small table in “her room.” She played along, with a look in her eye that was far older than what she said her age was, which she said was 11. He corrected her “No, sugarpee, you’re 7.” She nodded.
As I sat in a chair on the far side of the room, next to the door (I was made to sit in, in case I needed to do any type of chore for him) she started to speak more fluently than an 11 year old girl should be able to be. “Let me ask you something. Why do you do this?” Her voice, though knowledgeable, was incredibly sweet. “What do you mean” he replied, looking very confused. “I mean, why do you snatch up little girls as if you own them? Do you feel entitled to that? Did something fucked up happen to you when you were a child, and now you’re so skewed that you’re obsessed with little girls?” She said all of this in a sing-song type of voice, but her eyes were cold and piercing.
He was startled more than anything, but that didn’t stop him for swinging. His fist landed on her cheek hard, and her head flew into the wall. She stood as if this didn’t phase her at all. I was frozen entirely as he stood up, readying himself for the next strike he would almost surely give. She spoke again. “Ah, yes. Take your anger out on me because little girls beat you up all your life for being an awkward, disgusting loser.” She almost cackled now, and that child-like glee was gone now. What replaced it was frightening. She knew exactly what she was talking about. My father was frozen entirely this time, so taken back by the reality of the words she said.
She cooly and casually walked towards the bedroom door. However, instead of opening to leave, she just opened and looked me in the eye. “I’m giving you one chance to leave. I still see good in you. He hasn’t broken you yet.” She put out her hand, and I’ll never know why I opted to grab it. I was horrified, and the thought that nobody in the world will love me nailed me down for the 8 or so years before. Still, something so powerful just pulsated from this little girl’s body, I almost felt like it wasn’t me doing it at all. I got out of the door before collapsing in the wood-floored hallway, where I sat motionless for hours, listening to my fathers intense wails of pain.
I don’t know how long it took before the screams died all together. It might have been 8 hours. It could have been only one. I still don’t know. I opened the door to find the room empty, besides a corpse so bloody and broken that it would have been unrecognizable had it not been for the broken, bloodstained glasses that sat nearby. His glasses. There was no sign of the girl. I still don’t know how she got out of the room. The only exit was the one I came out of, and I never saw her leave. The police showed up only a half an hour later. Despite there being a little distance between our neighbors houses and ours, his screams were loud enough to be heard all over town.
In the police station, I felt raw. No one had talked to me other than to ask me what happened. Their voices felt extremely foreign. I was homeschooled, so the only person I ever really had contact with was my dad. One detective finally sat down and just talked to me. Asked me the normal kind of things you’d ask a boy going on 14. I didn’t have answers to most of the questions though. Still, she was so sweet and warm, and after hours of normal talk, I finally opened up and told her everything.
In all, they were able to close 24 cold cases all over the east coast. I was able to point police in the direction of almost all the bodies that were never found. After that, I went to a special schooling program for kids like myself, went through several foster families, and I’ve grown up to be mostly normal.
Still, I have no idea who that little girl was, or what happened to her. I never even knew her real name. I do know one thing, though: she’s still out there. I don’t know what she was or how she knew what she did, but as I look at my two daughters today, I silently thank her."
