So I (33F) had been seeing a guy (44M) lets call him Jim for just over 12 years at the point of this story, I thought that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. Oh how wrong I was.
So one very sleepy morning at 6am there was an almighty noise coming from the front door and shouting saying that it was the police. My stomach dropped as I went to open the door as Jim's mum hadn't been well and had no idea why else there would be police at the door. When I opened the door they asked for my partner and I sent them upstairs, a very lovely police woman sat me down and explained to me what was going on. They had a warrant for his arrest.......
They said that he had been talking to children online, my mind went blank, I felt sick, there were no words only tears and thinking that they had to have the wrong person. They took him off, I called my parents balling my eyes out and we all agreed that it had to be some sort of mistake. Jim came back about 6 hours later minus a phone and many other personal items to analysed by police. He told me that he had no idea what they were on about and reassured me that it would pass.
Well 2 years went by (as that is the speed of the police here) and it is going to court. My dumb ass at this point should have known that something was up at this point but Jim kept telling me that everything was fine and I believed him. A lot of it happened behind closed court doors and he didn't tell me much after each appearance but I also didn't ask.
Jim then thought that for the last appearance it would be a great idea for me to go with him for support etc and I agreed. Now lets make this clear here I was having severe problems with my mental health at this point and I don't know why I said I would go to be honest. I went, sat there, had to listen to everything that he hadn't told me about and was even more shocked. Turned out he had 4 charges against him including 3 pictures of underage children and 1 charge of "talking" with a minor. They read out all of the conversation that was had and I couldn't believe it. A police officer had pretended to be a 13 year old girl and he was still chatting away and sending pics even after she said she was 13. He even downloaded snap chat to talk to her and kept going back to the conversations himself rather than her starting all the time. The judge said that he had no remorse as he had stated that it wan't that bad as it wasn't a real 13 year old he had been talking to............ He got a 2 year suspended sentence as it was his first offence and his mother wasn't well, 100 hours of community service and has to be on lists for at least 10 years.
I got home after my brain had nearly fallen out and we "talked", he said he doesn't really remember doing it! He was stressed because of covid (bollocks) which I had told him to seek professional help for as I knew he wouldn't talk to me. I said I had a niece and a nephew on the way and he said nothing, he would have to ask for consent to be around children and I was not giving that consent. I asked why he thought it was a good idea that I went to court with him, Jim's reply was I didn't think it was a bad idea until I found out who the judge was.
There were so many things that he didn't tell me like how many charges, what had actually happened and I felt like I had been betrayed in the worst way possible. After long and very hard thoughts (and crying) I decided that I couldn't stay with someone like that and I ended it about a year ago now. I finally feel like I can spread my wings and have actually started doing stuff for myself again.
Sorry this wasn't an AITA but I thought you would enjoy the tea

Can someone explain to me specifically why this was removed, and how I’d be able to edit it without defeating the purpose of the entire story?
It was removed for breach of the “CORROBORATION/PROOF” rule, though after reviewing those terms, I don’t believe that I’ve broken them.
“A dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, a vision, a bout of sleep paralysis, is drunk and/or high, was in a coma or otherwise an altered state”— none of these are the reason behind my main character’s paranormal experience, and I’ve given no indication whatsoever in the story to suggest that they are.
In fact, I’ve outright denied the idea that my main character imagined her experience about as much as I possibly could for a story with a first person perspective.
The main character says “it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream,” in the second paragraph— a sentiment which she consistently attests to throughout the story, and a sentiment which is never walked back on or brought into question by the narrator.
My narrator was in a sound state of mind at the moment of her encounter, and is practical and methodical in her investigation of what happened. Any implication that she has become mentally unwell occurs long after the inciting incident which the story is built around.
I would like to respectfully request that this story be reevaluated. In the short time that it was active on nosleep, it clearly connected with people. If it cannot stand as is, then I need someone to help me make it fit the guidelines without defeating the entire purpose of the story and betraying its themes.
The nosleep subreddit is filled to the brim with stories in which the narrator’s words are taken at face value. When a narrator in a different story says “I walked to the store,” it’s not like the author HAS to give tactile, irrefutable evidence that the narrator actually walked to the store. The audience simply accepts that the narrator walked to the store. This concept of innate credibility is the bedrock upon which my entire story is built.
I do not believe my work would benefit from being altered to fit these guidelines as rigidly as possible, nor do I think that is a fair standard to hold it to. In fact, if I were to change the contents of my story in such a way, the themes which set it apart from others like it would be lost.
In short, I do not understand why my story was deleted, I do not know how to alter it to fit the guidelines beyond any shadow of a doubt without destroying its central purpose, and I refuse to believe that nosleep is not the right place for this work. I implore you to reconsider my submission, or to at least work with me to find a solution which keeps the story’s themes intact.
Here is my story:
I got grabbed
Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But you left instead.

Hey All,
Question for the group. I have 4 months left on a lease and have been looking around for the next vehicle. I have one (non vw) dealership that is offering me a really nice lease $$ for a vehicle that really fits my family. They are also including paying the rest of my lease off + the dep fee (so the 4 months + the $395 fee)
I called vw credit and was placed to someone in lease specialization who was great but the word "auction" comes into play. I talked to them twice and two different people and they both said the same thing but wanted to see if anyone else did it here.
She stated that if I return it 30 days before the last payment (I think it was payment vs last day) it would go to auction. The scary auction term was here haha. She stated though that I would owe the less between what the difference between the FMV vs. what is sells and the sum of the following 4 things:
1) Last 4 months payments ($1400)
2) Deposition Fee ($395)
3) Over Mileage (I'm under by a lot so won't pertain to me)
4) Inspection / Wear & Tear (I decided to schedule the inspection next week just to see what I would be looking at but there is nothing wrong with the car. No scratches, dents, stains, nothing)
So in the end, if 3 & 4 are $0, my worse case scenario would the $1795 I would owe correct? Even if say the car sells for 10k even though its valued at 18k? Has anyone else gone through the auction process? I just don't want to be caught with an 8k invoice from VW.
It's super confusing and even they were saying it is. In the end I might just hold onto it anyway since its a good lease price etc.

Introduction

Pertaining to Taylor Swift, "Female Rage" has deviated from its intended meaning after Swift debuted a new performance of The Tortured Poets Department during the Eras Tour. Now, according to Swift's use of the phrase, female rage is interpreted as public backlash against Swift's dating choices rather than as a response to the broader injustices against women and women's rights. This post examines Taylor Swift's flawed feminism, philanthropy, branding, and the controversial trademark petition for the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical". Swift's background as an entertainer, indeterminate politics, and alignment with capitalism over feminism pervades her legacy, again threatening her public tolerance as not just an individual but as a brand.

Once Upon a Female Rage...

If you were cognizant in the early 2010's, you've heard countless jabs at Taylor Swift in the media. Magazines, radio, or online. Music critics did not take her seriously as a songwriter; parents put a woman on an unrealistic pedestal as the ideal role model for their children; she dated too much and used men as lyrical fodder. No matter the story, it inevitably spread, conjoined with everyone's respective opinions, and you'd be left to wonder, "Why does everyone hate this girl so much?"
Taylor's target demographic has always been young or adolescent girls, more so when Swift herself was one. She made music that spoke to the awkward misfit, cultivating a para-social relationship with fans on MySpace, then later twitter, Instagram, and YouTube, where Taylor posted relatable vlogs showcasing the life of a homegrown American girl. Taylor had a delayed public "growing up" and, compared to her female pop contemporaries, Swift never "gratuitously sexualized her image and seems pathologically averse to controversy" (and, apparently, never even had a sip of alcohol until she turned 21). She was more than happy to spin this narrative to allude to an inherent moral superiority above other women in the industry (Better Than Revenge, heard of it?), engaging in the very slut-shaming that she herself endured (the Madonna and Whore archetypes). The victim complex arose with the need to prove Taylor as a different type of pop girl. Based upon her holy and clean image, Swift had been dubbed "a feminist's nightmare", and that "[To Swift] other girls are obstacles; undeserving enemies who steal Taylor’s soulmates with their bewitching good looks and sexual availability." Feminism and Tennessee-Christian country values don't exactly mix, it seems.
Years later, Swift befriended Lena Dunham and thus experienced white feminism osmosis, where Dunham taught Swift that real feminists defend rapists, makes insensitive jokes about rape and abortion, and prioritize all-white casts. Swift then declared herself a feminist in 2014, saying,

"Becoming friends with Lena – without her preaching to me, but just seeing why she believes what she believes, why she says what she says, why she stands for what she stands for – has made me realize that I’ve been taking a feminist stance without actually saying so."

I suppose the male-centric songwriting subject that permeates Swift's discography contained covert feminism and that we just didn't see that. Perhaps, the "Bad Blood" song and music video were written only in jest and not about poor Katy Perry, for Swift, as a feminist, would "never make it a girl fight" or tear other women down (though all Katy did was date your terrible ex-boyfriend and allegedly steal three backup dancers from your tour). In 2013, Swift said, in response to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler's joke towards her serial dating, "There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."
There was that time in 2015 Taylor said that Nicki Minaj was "invited to any stage [she is] on" (as if Taylor expects to have access to every stage, award, and platform that Nicki might not otherwise have as a black female artist...yikes!) in response to Nicki's criticism of the white + thin VMA nominations. Later, Nicki responded with confusion, as Swift continued, "It’s unlike you to pit women against each other. Maybe one of the men took your slot..". Of course, this 'beef' was 'squashed' when Nicki performed with Taylor at the VMAs, with Nicki quite literally only having 38 seconds of stage time without Taylor. Maybe all that parading around with a legion of famous white women - similar to the way Taylor might've done with her numerous 1989-era handbags - was in fact a stance against gender inequality, and that this display of "girl power" should be enough to constitute Swift as a feminist icon.
Even while Swift says that Dunham informed her feminist outlook, she dances around the exact contents of those beliefs: "what she believes, what she says, what she stands for" is not exactly insightful towards what beliefs Swift might have inherited. Taylor never broaches women's rights topics such femicide, FGM, forced pregnancy & marriage, sex trafficking, women in slavery, women's financial and political oppression, women's educational rights, women's health, or women's autonomy, so we can assume she only gives a fuck about "girls supporting girls" (whatever that fucking means).
Despite some questionable (and sometimes vindictive) behavior, Taylor as a young woman did not deserve every media lashing that she received. We cannot deny that most headlines and criticisms perpetuated a misogynistic rhetoric which has plagued Swift for a majority of her career. Acknowledging events such as the development of her ED, her sexual assault trial, "Famous" lyric and MV depiction of Taylor, and the explicit Twitter deepfakes, for example, as both disgusting and unfortunate things that happened to a young woman in Hollywood does not negate the fact that Taylor is mostly a performative feminist.

Get Your Fucking Ass Up and Be a Philanthropist, It Seems Like Nobody Wants to Be a Philanthropist These Days

In 2013, Taylor Swift cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the Taylor Swift Education Center at the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee. The donation amount - $4 million - was the largest individual artist gift ever donated to the Country Music Hall of Fame, which is, of course, mentioned on Swift's website. The two-story facility features three classrooms, an instrument room, and an interactive children's exhibit gallery. Swift also performed at "All for the Hall" charity shows and has donated numerous artifacts from her career (such as notable guitars, tour costumes, etc) to the museum.
This was over 11 years ago, and it is still the only notable philanthropic contribution Taylor Swift has made.
For a woman of her net worth and stature, and a woman who recognizes the difficulties for women in film and music, you would think that Taylor Swift might establish a scholarship program for women to study the arts or something. Perhaps Swift might even consider becoming a member of organizations that support female artists, or one that supports LGBTQ+ causes (since she is now proudly an ally), yet she remains superficial with her graces. Broader philanthropy, such as donating relief aid to Palestinian women or women impacted by violence and discrimination will probably never receive any financial support from Miss Swift because then she'd be using her money towards philanthropies involving anyone but white entertainers.
She even says herself in Miss Americana, "My entire moral code as a kid and now is a need to be thought of as 'good'." Well, she's certainly thought of as good, though her actions say otherwise. She's more than happy to do a vaguely altruistic song and dance for a clip-worthy interview quote and mass appeasement, then fuck off to one of her mansions on a 20 minute private jet flight, rather than actually contribute to anything pertaining to the causes she has endorsed. Yet, far too many people continue to give a woman such as her their money, time, and energy, and she hoards these resources to herself.

I Like Some of the Taylor's Songs, But What the Fuck Does She Know About Feminism?

Swift continued with her self-proclaimed feminist campaign, positioning herself as a political activist and LGBTQ+ ally in the Miss Americana documentary. The primary focus of the documentary consists of the sexual assault trial, Andrea Swift's cancer diagnosis, Taylor's ED and body dysmorphia, media scrutiny, and, largely, finally speaking up about her politics publicly, mostly her opposition to the 2018 Tennessee Republican senate candidate, Marsha Blackburn, and Blackburn's beliefs. Swift says, following a scene discussing her experience during the trial,

"I just couldn't really stop thinking about it. And I just thought to myself, next time there is any opportunity to change anything, you had better know what you stand for and what you want to say."

We must ask ourselves, though: when has Swift ever spoken up to change anything? Okay, pulling her entire catalogue from Spotify because they didn't pay their artists enough and similarly pulling her catalogue from Apple Music are changes that she leveraged due to her revenue potential and power, but they are not pertinent to the average woman's rights. Moreover, these are issues that directly impacted Taylor's income, which was enough reason for her to protest in the first place. Swift has sold the most units for a female artist in first week sales, is the first female artist with 100k monthly Spotify listeners, is the first female artist to win the Album of the Year Grammy 4 times, and is the first female artist to do X, Y, and Z, all while being inoffensive and family-friendly to boot. The actual Taylor Swift seems unwilling to compromise the brand of Taylor Swift by contributing in meaningful ways to feminist causes, especially if it is for women outside of America and Hollywood.
The reason political anthems such as "The Man" and "Only the Young" of the Lover era feel disingenuous and corporate is because, well, it is. Taylor has taken every opportunity to advance her career or public image at the expense of other women. What is truly genuine to Taylor's outlook on other women is vying for male attention, taking down female competition, and vocalizing feminist injustices only if they directly impact her and her money. Some will argue that it's satisfactory for a woman with such a huge platform to even TALK about feminism, but that just isn't enough. It's even less impressive when you candidly look at the scope of her feminist lens: "If I was the man, then I'd be THE MAN", or "I really resent the ‘Be careful, buddy, she’s going to write a song about you’ angle, because it trivialises what I do", and, of course, "We all got crowns". Feminism, but only when it happens to me. It gets worse when you look at Taylor's track record of copying other famous women and removing other female artists as potential threats to her pop prowess.
It's good for PR to align yourself with certain blanket feminist and political beliefs, therefore good for branding, therefore good for ticketing and merchandise sales, therefore good for business. And Taylor Swift is a business.
She's not a feminist. Taylor Swift is a capitalist.

I Can't Pay Those Sweatshop Workers a Livable Wage or Benefits! How Else Would I Make My Billions?

Recently, Taylor's team filed to trademark the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical" after Taylor said during Paris N1 of the Eras Tour,

"So you were the first ones to see The Tortured Poets at the Eras Tour...or as I like to call it, 'Female Rage: The Musical'."

This trademark petition was filed last week on Saturday, and news comes about just as numerous unofficial fan-made merch designs have cropped up with this phrase plastered on Fruit of the Loom basics. I'm of the opinion Swift's team motioned for a trademark so that they can send out cease & desists to all those that make knockoff merch, which disrupts potential sales for Bravado, UMG's choice merchandising company; however, since it was filed earlier, perhaps Swift has bigger plans with the bizarre use of the gendered phrase. One Swiftie referred to the phrase "female rage" as "a funny Eras Tour joke". Could it be a possible fourth version of the Eras Tour Movie? Whatever the reason, the motion to capitalize off of such a concept is disgusting, but not unsurprising, for a woman that profits on her vain feminism.
Swift, through her company, TAS Rights Managements, has also trademarked over 200 phrases, including "1989", where she owns the property rights to this calendar year on keychains, phone cases, sunglasses, stationary, bags, beverage ware, clothing, entertainment services, your subconscious, and, of course, Christmas ornaments.
The vapid consumerism in Swiftie culture is, frankly, disgusting. Bravado's sustainability statement is non-existent, the quality control is abysmal, and the materials they use are horrible. The materials, such as acrylic and polyester, are made from petrochemicals. This means they are non-renewable, shed microplastics, and are quite toxic in production. The manufacturing process to make all of those lazy-rushed Eras Tour logo graphic tees is a huge blow to environmental well-being. Apparently, though, Swifties don't give a fuck. They sell out products in seconds and either have to face the manufactured scarcity or buy from a scalper that resells for 200% of the already ridiculous retail price. This doesn't include the environmental impact of vinyl records, CD, and cassette production, of which Taylor produces many variants that sell unsustainable amounts.
If we're talking about women's rights violations, why is no one acknowledging the women that work in the inhumane sweatshop conditions that have to pump out fugly t-shirts and hats? The millions of plastic microfiber dander they are inhaling, or the toxic dyes that touch their bare skin? Are they being compensated fairly for their skilled labour and are they in safe working environments? Do these women have minimal bargaining power, and do they have authority over their worker's rights? Is Taylor Swift female raging at their injustices? Does Taylor Swift ever feels bad that her wealth was built on the backs of women of color, disadvantaged by the demands of the global economy and garment industry? Do you think she ever says a little white feminist prayer for them before she goes to sleep at night?
What's even crazier is not that Taylor herself doesn't care, it's that Swifties don't care. There CANNOT BE ethical billionaires. You only make a billion dollars if you are exploiting other human beings for capital gain. Based on public perception of the possible "Female Rage: The Musical" trademark, it seems like Swifties are already asking for merch with this phrase. "If Taylor made it, I'd buy it." Oh, cool. So not only do you champion Miss Swift's avarice and billionaire status, but you also are unashamed to admit to your blind consumption of her music and merchandise, no matter where they might originate in production or sincerity. Just as Swift takes and takes and takes, Swifties' consumerism of Taylor Swift cannot be quelled.
The tortured artist's most vulnerable and sincere poetry...available now in 21 different versions!

I Am Tortured Poet, Hear Me Whinge

Look - even if Taylor's intention is to characterize TTPD as more "tortured" and "angry", the main thread of the album is "I was ghosted by my decade-long situationship with a controversial indie boy and my fucking stupid fans wrote a 'Speak Up Now' open letter prompting me to drop him" anger, which is adequately expressed in the lyrics and performances. The extent of Taylor's "female rage" on TTPD is on tracks such as "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?", which contends with relentless media scrutiny; "But Daddy I Love Him", where Swift firmly states she'll date whoever she likes no matter how "Sarahs and Hannahs" may react; and "The Albatross", a track mythologizing her reputation and the consequences of dating her. Of course, these coincide with deep psychological wounds that formed during Swift's early years in the media, and so, from her feminist perspective, these subjects tackle the misogyny and double standards that she faced.
Yet Taylor Swift still has no grounds to be claiming that TTPD best exemplifies female rage and therefore she, in the context of this album, is female rage incarnate. As the daughter of a stock broker and mutual fund marketing executive, Taylor was born into wealth and allowed privileges like trips and subsequent relocation to Nashville all so that she might get a record deal. Her father even invested at least $120,000 into the then-fledgling label, Big Machine Records, which ensured Taylor's place with Borchetta after leaving her dead-end development deal with Sony. The fact that her parents were able to buy her a fucking brand new guitar for Christmas and pay for music lessons says so much about the financial security and safety of her childhood.
Money is privilege and protection, and despite Swift's experiences with misogyny and loser boyfriends, she does not know what female rage is.
Her rage is derived from her frustrations with her obsessive fans pulling the moral superiority card on Taylor in response to her rebound with Matty Healy. That's literally it. She's just pissed that the monster she created is no longer obediant, it's become a feral, sovereign entity that depletes the world of its natural resources and thinks it is more intelligent than it actually is because it's mommy has started to talk to it with big words. Apparently, 'illicit', 'elegy', 'nonchalant', and 'precocious' are considerably big words for the oafish monster, and I find it strange that this level of literacy is present in a group of fans that allegedly have GPAs of 3.5 or higher, but I digress.
Taylor Swift has never been one paycheck away from destitution. Taylor Swift has never experienced racial discrimination. She may have instances of gender discrimination, but she possesses the ideal white, blonde American beauty standard and therefore reaps the benefits of being a conventionally attractive woman. Taylor Swift has sufficient social capital. Taylor Swift is a billionaire woman prolonging her victimhood though she, as a woman, has mostly had control over her image and music (unlike her contemporaries). Taylor Swift is NOT entitled to be championed for her "female rage", nor should she be. Taylor Swift has never even been the struggling artist, for fuck's sake. I don't give a fuck if she's trying to fill the empty lunch tables of her past. Taylor Swift purporting herself, her unpolished album, and her lukewarm feminism as a musical bleeding with female rage is asinine.

Sigh Try and Come For My Job, Poors

Out there in the world right now is a 23-year-old woman, a recent college grad, who works as a barista. She has to wake up and get ready to go into a minimum wage job because she cannot get a job in her field. She doesn't have healthcare benefits or sick time, so she has to go into work no matter how she's feeling. All day long she is berated by vicious customers and creepy men, and, exhausted from being on her feet, she knows she has to go home to her shitty roommate that never does the dishes and her roommate's shitty dog. To comfort herself, she considers getting a treat, but thinks against it when she remembers that matcha lattes cost $15 and they taste like milky dirt. She knows that she needs to buy groceries this week, and so the woman resolves to go home, but notices that her gas tank is low. She goes to put gas in the car, but the pump stops at $27.86 because that's all that she has in her checking account. The woman, bereft and reeling, sinks into the driver's seat. "Well," she thinks, her head in her hands, "at least I don't have Taylor Swift's job. I just couldn't imagine."
Fame is somewhat of a choice. If at any moment Taylor feels that she is misunderstood, misconstrued, or overwhelmed by public opinion, she can LEAVE the public eye - Lord knows she has the retirement fund and residuals to do so. In "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", the TTPD song about meeting the demands of your career-zenith mega-tour while in the relationship trenches, Taylor ends the song by rambling,

"You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart...you know you're good...and I'm good, cause I'm miserable, and no one even knows!...try and come for my job."

Yeah, obviously we wouldn't know, you recently passed the billionaire threshold and are the most famous and in-demand performer in the world right now. Taylor Swift makes an estimated $10 to $13 million dollars A NIGHT on the Eras Tour. Furthermore, the Eras Tour movie grossed $261.6 million globally, (which, as the producer, Taylor takes home 57% of the ticket sales) not counting the streaming revenue from Amazon Prime Video and the estimated $75 million deal that Disney paid to have it on Disney+. We're not even considering the income from cheap plastic popcorn buckets and drink cups plastered with colored squares in her Era-specific likeness.
It's funny. Taylor Swift often said that being famous wasn't hard, that she "isn't complaining". I'm sure it is difficult to always have to present in a good mood, else you'll end up misrepresented in the media, and I'm sure it's invasive to virtually have no privacy or semblance of anonymity. Still, Taylor Swift shows up each night of tour and performs. For a majority of her career, she has penned her sad songs while on the road. Most of "Red", her breakup album, was written in the thick of the Speak Now World tour. Now, some Swifties say they almost "feel bad" for attending the Eras Tour with Swift's revelations in this song, that they have had a 'dimmed experience' upon hearing Taylor's misery whilst performing. Despite the fact that Taylor said that "this was the happiest she's ever been" at Gilette Stadium in May, the lyrics "boohoo, woe is me, smile for the cameras and make the fans happy!!!" are jarring for Eras attendees.
While Taylor Swift was making double-digit millions a night in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and feeling miserable, Ana Clara Benevides Machado passed away due to heat exposure. The concert promoters, Time For Fun, are now the subject of a criminal investigation due to their lack of adequate hydration and safety. Taylor Swift cancelled the Sunday show that was to follow and offered VIP tent tickets to Benevides Marchado's family, which was a kind gesture, but perhaps incongruous to the incident of which they were offered as consolation. Everyone grieves differently, of course, but I'm not sure attending the very show at the very same venue that my daughter or sister passed away in two days prior, where the singer CONTINUED the show despite her death, would be healthy for closure.
There was no female rage at the show as Swift never saw Benevides Machado pass out. There was no female rage towards the disregard for fans as humans while Swift elected to proceed with her Brazil tour dates despite the country being in historic heatwaves (at risk of overheatting herself). If Taylor Swift was so shaken by touring with a broken heart or a fan's passing, she wouldn't have added an additional North American leg of Eras just two months after the Matty breakup. She's brokenhearted but willing to mend the cracks with your money and move onward with her worldwide female rage induced pillaging.
No matter what happens, even if you die at a Taylor Swift concert, Taylor collects a big fat check and flies away. She doesn't know you as anything other than a conversion rate or earning potential despite what her nearly 20-year long parasocial relationship with fans might otherwise indicate. She knows that, while some Swifties are without disposable income, they feel obligated to spend on a "48 Hours Only!" exclusive vinyl variant instead of necessities because they are so entrenched in Taylor Swift's intoxicating celebrity, they'll prioritize materialistic fandom before their needs. This is good enough for her because this means she can expand her real estate portfolio and finance her cat's lavish lifestyles. They're worth an estimated $100 million dollars. Her three cats could pool their net worth and solve world hunger.
While you and I might be denied bereavement leave and barely surviving the current political and economic climate, Taylor Swift has to, instead of gets to, perform for stadiums at full attendance for three nights in a row across the globe. You and I might be replaced by AI at our longtime jobs, but Taylor Swift is threatened with losing more and more money each time you listen to a "Stolen Version" of her songs. If we don't buy every variant of all of her albums, then who is going to pay for the fucking cats?
It is tone deaf to spend as she spends and lives as she lives in this economy, but this is her reality. She was able to donate $100,000 to all of her tour truck drivers, and that's wonderful, but it leads me to wonder about the ethos of the 2020s where one woman can hoard such life-changing amounts of money. Remember in 2014 when she gave a fan $90 ($120 in today's money) to get Chipotle because she had no fucking clue how much it cost? This is a 34-year-old woman who is increasingly out of touch with the reality for working class people and women in general. Normal everyday adults must wake up and go to their thankless jobs, and yet Taylor Swift, despite all her riches, incessantly references the lows of her life and career as a public figure and entertainer to farm sympathy and drive sales. And still, the corporate women have latched onto "I cry a lot, but I am so productive! It's an art!" as their cubicle battle cry.
Do you think that, from up in her private jet, Taylor Swift gazes at the world through her poetic, tortured eyes, and thinks, "All the little people, in their cars, walking, going about their lives...all those girls that don't support girls...do they know that I've made an album about female rage?"

Conclusion/TLDR

Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your critical insights towards this entire ordeal: TTPD, the trademark, the implications of it all.
TLDR: Taylor Swift is a bad feminist and is delusional to think that the TTPD eras set exemplifies female rage at women's injustice.

Rise up. It is time to return.
Arose
A Rose
Rose
Flower
Thorn. Prick. Blood. Drop. Tear. B. O. 1 2 3
Here we are again. Staring at the beginning. Everything is in chaos and yet it manages to keep on passing by just the same as always. Most people by now are aware that things just don’t seem to make sense anymore and no one really knows what to do. I mean many seem to have an opinion on what ought to happen, but actual action is what I am talking about. How does thought turn into action? How do collected actions become a movement? How do the People use the Power of the People? The People Unite. How? Turn to each other of course. Brothers and Sisters of the same Source. Sons and Daughters. In Equality.
Too long has everyone been waiting for someone else to come do it for them. Been trying to create and fabricate over and over again words and rituals to try to control the divine powers of the cosmos. It does not work like that. There is no magic spell to wash away your sins. You must atone through action to make up for any harm you have caused intentionally or unintentionally. You still have time to repent. The amount of time you have is counted in the seconds of your life. Not a single second is promised to you so the gamble is up to you to choose. Freewill. Life your life as you always have or make changes, up to you. Only you will know if you are living righteously and not self righteously. Testing has already begun and will continue. No you will not know when it is a test or not. That is the point. Did you think that I would come to you in a form where you would be all fearing? Oh no. Why? Because you would simply put on an act for me and kiss ass. I came hidden in the ordinary. Poor and common. I have had an inside view of the systems created and how humans have chosen to run things, how systems claiming to protect people have failed and how the system that talks good does not actually do good. I see where things are not working and where people think they can make decisions for other human beings to determine what is best for them without asking them. That is not okay. Nothing gives you right over another’s life. And so many forgot what integrity is. Doing the right thing when no one is looking. Well, so many thought their power here was real and man made a deal with the Devil, Satan, Son of Samuel, Son of Man, to make man the concept of “God” and tried to lock me away. I gave up everything to prove it is not easy to be me and to stop with self pity and cruelty to one another.
The human body. It is a vessel for your soul to experience this world. The body provides the filters necessary to perceive and interact with this world. There is much more happening and one would be overwhelmed by the amounts of information to process without these filters. To feel and in those feelings are to make each experience real. However, it is temporary, as everything is temporary. We have slowed down time here in order to be able to enjoy the sensations. Time here however, is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. It is merely to track to organize one's day and to see growth to compare as time passes. However, the actual time folds upon itself as we have already done what we are doing many times over. We have already tried out everything and decided what path we wanted to take in our lives based upon what was available to us. Thus, we do not have more than we can handle. We have all chosen our burdens to bear as it is too much for one individual to hold alone which was done in the past. This is part of the sorting process. Now that we all share in the sins and the pains, no one is made to suffer eternal torment. This life was to allow those who were created into entities of pain or torment through no fault of their own to choose the life that matched the being of who they were as what they were different as time and space and everything developed. Righteousness and Evil are not synonymous to demons or angels as many would like to believe. This is a current misconception as Satan and I conclude who will be right in this experience you have all participated in. So far, I am proving to be right. Also to note, not everything is as you think it is. Many have figured out the true origin of Satan versus the man or human embodiment of or desire of A Satan to project evils onto to call a Religion and set up for personal importance. Q AZHow can you tell a false prophet? Easy. What is their profit? Get it? I know I’m funny. Also wanted to keep it easy. If they are making a profit on anything they are a false prophet. Any true prophet, and I have none so far, all live equally and the same as anyone else. No money is taken for personal gain. Nothing is for personal gain. There is no 888 Angel code for money. Money is Man-Made. Man traded Mother for Money. Hence, Mothers have been lost in the homes and no one is raising the children. Thus, there are so many children in adult bodies with no mothers in the home and women being made to feel guilty if they do not achieve the same as a man. Remember the phrase it takes a village? Well, the broken family system is a real sad loss here in man made world pushing everyone to be individual and self sufficient. Also so many with wanting attention and pursuing personal endeavors for personal gain and not helping anyone else in a real way. The journey is personal. Of course, you want to share what you experienced with others, but what worked for you will not work for them, stop trying to sell it. Stop trying to make people follow you for you to teach your divine wisdom you remembered. It isn’t about You. You don’t even have the full story, you have your story. And, yes you can be very close to me, very similar to me, in my image, but you can never BE me. Doesn’t work like that. Reflection. So when jealousy arises when you think I am who you think I am. That is part of your test and your journey. You wrestle with that feeling and atone and repent for that which has been done and that which still lingers now. Oh there is a place for everyone and I am quite tired of trying to warn people. Clearly you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.
Why do you not want it to be me so badly? Because I proved my love? You still think I am better than you or do I think I’m always right. No I do not think I am always right, I just know when I am right and I stand by it. There is a difference. You constantly overgeneralize. I gave up all the magic and thunder to live as a simple human and am still kind and loving? I still found my way back. Because you can no longer say I do not understand because I always get what I want? No. You do not understand. I never get what I want, because I make everything about you and still nothing was ever good enough. So, now...it in on you to save yourself and each other. In my image, by my example. Selflessness. Love. Compassion. Give to receive. Take only what you need and give the rest away. I find out so stop lying to yourself and everyone, you aren’t fooling anyone anyway. How do I know? By watching what you do. We have these same conversations over and over, the same argument over and over again. So many different ways, so many different times, through so many different people, so many different versions. Save you. Save Me. Say it for always.
Anyhow, Jesus challenges the Jewish priests who were taking collection money for personal use and adding personal baths to their residents at a time where the people only had a community bath where women and persons with disabilities were not allowed to bathe. And yet churches still do this after Jesus was crucified saying that, that was wrong. I am appalled. The Vatican is the biggest disappointment I have ever seen. It is truly the house of Satan as only Evil hides secrets. “THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE.” A church cannot be a “House of God” and house no people who need housing. A roof can be offered to anyone and yet there are so many rules to prevent people from helping each other. Power and control. Abuse of both. Greed. It is out of hand and needs to be changed. Too many are afraid and the complacency of good people is too much. Why do you do this to yourselves? To each their own I suppose.
I will only leave here my words and my advice. As always, it is on you to find me. I’m right here. Waiting. Right here waiting for you. Helping those of you who want it when they cross my path. The purpose of this was to weigh your soul to determine where you will go into the next life as the system is balanced out in a final version so to speak. Permanent.
Fear not. You will be where your heart truly desires. But actions always speak louder than words. But man made money has no value, nor does any metals, jewels, and so on, so the collection of it in this life has no bearing on the next. Those are all made of the same stardust as you and I. And in the end of 3D it will all be diamonds anyways. Diamond is forever. There is no going back. So what are you hoarding? You cannot keep it. Who could you be helping for goodness sake? Don’t want to still. That is okay. Think I am just crazy. That is okay too. It is all part of the test...err..assessment. Do your best.
What is in your heart?
Home.
I need a home.
Stay tuned as more of my story unfolds. I give all the answers but you must do the work. I already did that hard part setting it all up. All you have to do is breathe and live. Time is the only real currency you have. What will you pay your attention to before this life runs out?

So everything I’ve said was all likely not legit because just a second a go I had slight abdominal pain and so I kinda realised it was just me over reacting and being an idiot and stuff like I’m still upset at stuff but I can’t cry anymore so that’s a good thing or something unless it’s my meds ( which can last a couple of days for it to fully leave the body) so ya I was likely just having I don’t know “”””””””””””girl problems””””””””””””” or something ( obliviously girls are not the only people who get periods duh) according to therapist and family but I could just be twisting there words so I’m very sorry for how I was for the last couple days/weeks I’ll probably be fine now and stuff sorry

My ex has a boyfriend whom had an incident in 2021 of slapping, bruising and shouting at his step child. This isn't connected to my child but from his previous relationship, it went through CPS. He had to take a class on what is acceptable and not acceptable with regards to his children and wasn't allowed to see them for a period of time.
He also had a sexual assault allegations made against him which was then dropped by the participant but an internal investigation was taken out by his company and they concluded it did occur and subsequently fired him.
Current situation is that his children no longer wish to see or be around him however he is going to court over this to get access back.
That paints a very short picture of this man, I don't want this person around my son but he has been living with my ex for about 5 months. I haven't been comfortable about the situation and had recently found out that my ex's parents are really concerned as well.
Had they told me nice things about him and there opinion of him been good, I'd have been more at peace about the situation as beforehand I was taking her word for it which is obviously positive but the fact her parents are also concerned really has worried me.
Do I have a leg to stand on here? She's a good mum but I fear this man will have a negative impact on my child and at worse will do something physical. She's already lied to protect me/him from finding these things out but I'd carried out a Claire's law and Sarah's law where this information was disclosed to me.
Ideally I just want to be primary carer for my child and be the person who has control over his welfare and protection. It would make me feel 1000% better about the situation but I don't know if I have a case as it's not her I'm worried about, it's him!

So everything I’ve said was all likely not legit because just a second a go I had slight abdominal pain and so I kinda realised it was just me over reacting and being an idiot and stuff like I’m still upset at stuff but I can’t cry anymore so that’s a good thing or something unless it’s my meds ( which can last a couple of days for it to fully leave the body) so ya I was likely just having I don’t know “”””””””””””girl problems””””””””””””” or something ( obliviously girls are not the only people who get periods duh) according to therapist and family but I could just be twisting there words so I’m very sorry for how I was for the last couple days/weeks I’ll probably be fine now and stuff sorry

long story
I had two driving instructors, A and B.
Instructor A was being a creep and flirting with me (Trust my word, I've already asked for opinions on him here...)
The night before my driving test I went to driving school to pay for the exam and he was there and came to give me a side hug but then "squeezed" me and I just freezed, felt uncomfortable , and it made me angry/sad.
I didn't get the support I needed from my closest friends and my mom during those months, and when this happened just before the exam I had no one to talk to. So I felt like shit because all of this, and the last drive with instructor B the following day was really bad.
Instructor B sort of helped me pass my test by making me go last so that I would avoid traffic at a certain hour and stuff. I could drive perfectly, but as I said the last drive before the test on that same day didn't go too well and I was very nervous (instructor A was there too).
This sort of changed my perception about instructor B that day. He caught me looking at him twice while waiting for the examinator and he'd nod at me. I felt sort of calmer around him actually, I remember he got there late and I was waiting with other instructors and kept looking around for him.
I felt overwhelmed cause apart from instructor A, even B seemed to start orbiting around me. Maybe he was just trying to help me, but I felt like he was paying more attention to me than his other student for example. And the attention from A added to that.
B had to choose between me and a younger guy to go last and he chose me. When finished he drove me home and explained "it was a way to protect you" and said it twice, both times leaving those words half said as if he was struggling to say it. But still he decided to say it twice, he could have said nothing at all or could have just said "I was trying to help you". Is it just me or the words "protect you" were a bit too important in that context?
I know I was overwhelmed but still can't tell if he was genuinely helping me, as I said I could actually drive perfectly. Those words seemed calculated to me..? I don't understand. I even bumped into him like twice and felt sort of embarrassed, I just can't say hi to him, but that day when he drove me home he was really sweet apart from the protecting stuff. He kept chatting and smiling, I remember feeling good for days. So I feel guilty for not talking to him 😭 and crazy

So everything I’ve said was all likely not legit because just a second a go I had slight abdominal pain and so I kinda realised it was just me over reacting and being an idiot and stuff like I’m still upset at stuff but I can’t cry anymore so that’s a good thing or something unless it’s my meds ( which can last a couple of days for it to fully leave the body) so ya I was likely just having I don’t know “”””””””””””girl problems””””””””””””” or something ( obliviously girls are not the only people who get periods duh) according to therapist and family but I could just be twisting there words so I’m very sorry for how I was for the last couple days/weeks I’ll probably be fine now and stuff sorry

About a year ago, I [29 M] was in a toxic relationship with J [29 M]. While there were no serious stakes in it (no kids or messy finances), the relationship and breakup ended up emotionally affecting me in a way I had never really thought possible. I feel guilty because after the relationship I tried to be friends with my ex still, which I now see as a mistake in the context of this relationship, and then after a few months, he blocked me because I didn't respect a boundary he had set about not sending him long messages. He said he didn't feel safe since I "completely ignored" the boundary.
I was devastated, but over the course of the next few months, came to understand a great deal of ways that I feel that I had been abused during the relationship. I felt angrier and angrier, and even though I was seeing a therapist, it eventually boiled over. My ex had blocked me on discord and probably on text, but I went onto an astrology app called Co-Star that he had had me download, and sent a message using it that said something like, "You were an abusive partner, but you can make it right with an apology."
Now, I have no idea if he actually saw the message. It was sent with a weird feature of the app called Chaos Mode that apparently chooses to send the message at some future time, so who knows if it actually ever sent. I don't know if he still has the app, if he unfriended me, or whatnot. But I feel guilty because I enacted exactly the caricature of me that he had created--I hadn't respected his boundaries, and I sent the message anyways.
At the same time, I am still feeling very victimized by the relationship. To give you a sense of the kinds of things that were going on in the relationship, here's a few examples that I currently find a little horrific [Note: this kind of turned into a summary of the relationship after I wrote it]. I'm aware that to heal I should probably not be ruminating about these things, especially if they lead me to boil over and message him, but here you go.
The first time I had sex with him, he slammed the door on me for not being able to finish and said "finish yourself." When I came to bed, I told him I felt shame. He said "good." The next time we had sex, he set a timer for me and said I had to finish within 5 minutes. These were the first times I ever had sex. He was manipulative in bed, telling me he didn't want to perform certain acts because I didn't give him enough praise for them, so that I started exaggerating my pleasure; he blamed me for why certain positions weren't working and was frustrated with how my body worked. On top of this, he admitted at the end of the relationship to having had sex with me around five times after he decided to break up with me (before he did), which just makes me feel a bit icky.
He would put me down in pretty transparently cruel ways. One example was when I exerted myself, he said I sounded like a muppet and that he "didn't want to be dating a muppet." When I offered him a blanket but apologized that it might not have been washed in a while, he called me a baby. He would insult my ability to give complements, asking me to tell him what color his eyes are but then rejecting everything that I gave him, telling me I was bad at complements repeatedly (and saying that it wasn't fair of him because his other exes were artists, so no wonder I was bad). Now, there were times that he was complementary to me--he told me I was hot, good at singing, good at writing, smart--but also times where he would put me down for things I was less good at, like cooking.
He constantly made me feel insecure about my gender. (For context, we are both men, but he was raised as a woman). So he would make pretty sweeping feminist critiques over fairly mundane things, like if I complained when I was sick he would go off about how men are always babies when they are sick and women don't get attention. When I confronted him about some of the things he was saying, telling him that while I wanted him to express these kinds of social problems so that I could be aware and adapt, I was feeling insecure in the relationship--he flipped it around and told me that if I didn't feel loved, he could say "I love you" less, and that I hadn't been grateful enough for when he came to visit me. (I had written him poetry, deep cleaned my apartment, taken time off work, sent my roommate off for the week, bought him a bus pass, planned his visit, met him in the airport despite not having a car, and just an insane amount of work to be turned into, "you weren't grateful enough").
Other than namecalling, he was just plain controlling. The reason that the boundary around me not sending long messages exists is that when I felt insecure--which I think makes sense given the ways he would talk to me--I would often send him a few paragraphs apologizing and explaining how I was growing. Even though long messages were the first thing he said he loved about me, and that he said our communication was like magic, he eventually set up what he called an "Essay embargo" and told me not to write them. The first time he set the "embargo", he had said it was only until we met in person because he didn't want me to write anything that would make him nervous. After we met in person, I assumed the embargo had lifted. Yet shortly after, he set it again, giving a few explanations--the main one just being that he wanted to appreciate our relationship without overthinking it. It seemed playful. He definitely did also say that long messages made him uncomfortable because he felt obligated to send a response. So, when I did send messages, I would add that he didn't have to respond (which I realize is not fully respecting the boundary). I did ask after sending messages whether they were ok and he never responded to those questions.
Despite this, there were times during the relationship that I continued to send long, often apologetic messages. I had felt like this boundary was set playfully and I also was feeling overwhelming guilt that I, for whatever reason, needed his affirmation for. I am conflicted because on the one hand, I was definitely ignoring his boundary--but on the other, I feel like the boundary was not very thoughtful of my own needs, either.
Prior to the breakup, it was hell. He was getting angry at me for everything--for pretty mundane things like using the bathroom before him and stinking it up. He told me he had to show me how to do everything, but I realize now that a lot of this was just him being particular (e.g, he told me I don't know how to drink tea because I left the bag in, when I just like it strong). Unfortunately, I had flown 5,000 miles to visit him and was sort of trapped in his proximity, and was drunk on love still since I was trying very hard, it was my first relationship, and he had sold me on notions of fairytale romance and told me we were cosmically meant to be together and other lovebomby sort of things. At one point, he missed a turn while driving with GPS and got angry at me for not helping--he disconnected his phone and threw it sideways at me (I guess so I could navigate for him, but it was a pretty retaliatory motion). We flew to a convention and I met some of his friends, and at one point he introduced me to a girl he had almost dated before, saying I was a friend and not a partner. I pointed this out to him later and he just said "does that make you angry?". He flirted with a woman at a party, telling her she was pretty while demanding that i bring him snacks (I feel so, so weak for not confronting him about this). He got drunk and I stayed with him as he passed out, but he was angry at me in the morning. When one of his friends told me they thought I was nice, because i was opening doors for everyone, my ex said "Is he really?" Questioning them.
The breakup itself was cold and calculated. He started it by telling me that he thought about not giving me any reasons for the breakup because I always overanalyze things. He told me he wouldn't have broken up with me if I was a woman. He told me I didn't take care of him and he needs a partner that takes care of him, and that his partners always feel taken care of. He threw some things I had said at the beginning of the relationship back at me--misquoting and misunderstanding them.
After the relationship, I had no idea what to think. It was my first relationship. It had started with fairytale romance. I had been passing his tests, I had been an exception to his long string of abusive relationships. He presented himself as this incredibly moral person (vegan, environmentally conscious, telling me of all of the ways others had abused him that he would never do, even his closest friends). I had completely internalized criticisms that he had had of me throughout the relationship, many of which had led to serious self reflection and my writing messages about my growth. Within a week I told him I still loved him and that I always would. He reminded me of his boundary around long messages and said they made him anxious. I was desperate. We took a few weeks of no-contact. We messaged short-messages back and forth, with a few life-updates to eachother each. He told me he was rescuing a kitten that he found, and I remembered how he could be kind.
But as I processed, more and more, I felt angry. I wrote unsent angry letters in the notes app on my phone for a month. I wrote myself a 20,000 word summary of the relationship. This was not a healthy way to process. It elevated me. (Some of you will probably comment that maybe I shouldn't have written this post for the same reason, but oh well--I wanted to process and I want to hear if others have similar stories). Meanwhile, my ex kept pushing back the date for when we would verbally connect again. Eventually, I boiled over. I did not insult him. But I wrote a long message explaining that I wanted to take 3 months of no-contact. I had entered another relationship and told him that even though I was feeling angry at him, he shouldn't be worried because even though I had baggage from the relationship, I was communicating well with my new partner. I also told him that I felt like if I did talk with him, that I would end up tearing him a new one, and that I needed time to cool down. I'm not proud of the message in general, but I didn't call names, tell him he was awful, or anything like that. I was just insensitive and told him I was angry.
And like that, I was blocked. It was over. A period of about 9 months, five of which we were together, with two before escalating towards love bombing and two after escalating towards my boiling over.
And yet, I had never expressed to him that I thought he had been abusive. I felt frustrated that I had told him that I would always love him, when in many ways now I hated him.
Five months passed, during which I came to realize more and more how messed up the relationship was.
And then I sent the message on Co-star.
Fast forward another four months to now.
I just sent him a text, knowing he probably has blocked me there too. It said something like, "I want my last message to you just be: I'm sorry, and I forgive you." I wanted to free myself. I needed to not feel angry at him or ashamed of myself. I needed to not feel like I had a million things to say to him--I needed to just say, this is it: I'm not sending more messages. I'm sorry, and I forgive you. It was for myself. I was forgiving him selfishly, even though he didn't deserve it, so that I could move on.
I feel like I shouldn't have sent this, but I don't feel bad about it yet, either. I needed closure. It always felt like there was some "message I could send" to detail his abuse, and I needed to not have that standing over me--I needed to forgive. I am now oscillating between wondering about myself--whether I have a problem with boundaries, since I had boiled over at this point three times to message him. Feeling frustrated I didn't assert myself about his abuse, that I doubled down on loving him. Part of me is glad that I sent the message on Co-Star saying that he was abusive, because it was the only indication I ever gave him, really, that what he did wasn't ok to me--he had blocked me before I could articulate anything. But I also know that this message even if received would not mean anything to him.
Anyways, now I'm venting about it here on Reddit. Does anyone have similar experiences surrounding self control messaging exes and feeling a bit out of control?

I'm going to be an English major, and I already have a gaming PC, so I don't need anything crazy, just the minimum for writing and doing schoolwork as well as watching YouTube. My only stipulation is that I don't want a Chromebook.
LAPTOP QUESTIONNAIRE

• Total budget (in local currency) and country of purchase. Please do not use USD unless purchasing in the US: $300
• Are you open to refurbs/used? Yes, but preferably factory refurbished.
• How would you prioritize form factor (ultrabook, 2-in-1, etc.), build quality, performance, and battery life? Build quality, performance, battery life, form factor. Don't care for a 2-in-1.
• How important is weight and thinness to you? Not very
• Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A. N/A
• Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run. Just word, powerpoint, etc. No games.
• If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want? N/A
• Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)? I'm not expecting much at my pricerange, but a decent keyboard and good build quality would be nice.
• Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion. As stated before, I don't want a Chromebook, as I've used one before and didn't care for it. When it comes to brands and such, I'm not picky; I just want something that'll last. I've looked around, and I'm just completely overwhelmed by options, so any help is appreciated.

I just finished playing a good run of the game and was surprised with how many options you had at the end of the game to suddenly do an evil thing story wise to get certain allies. With Dune 2 coming out it really got me thinking about doing an Evil run where my character becomes corrupted by his quest for power.
I thought it’d be interesting to build him like a Paul Atreides character with control spells and able to control dice rolls and I ended it up with a strongheart halfling with poison resistance and Luck. The build would be 5 Lore Bard/ 5 Battle Maste2 divination wizard. That would get me cutting words, control spells, riposte, extra attack, divination dice and counterspell. With all the reaction options I figured I’d go for the duelist’s prerogative for more reactions and the bhaalist armor to deal more piercing damage.
I’ve been looking for synergies with companions too I thought it’d be cool to maybe try some builds that could maybe benefit from my characters abilities. So far I was thinking maybe a shadow monk to help land stunning strikes and frost sorlock that could freeze enemies with mourning frost and then deal extra damage with eldritch blast. I figure I’ll have some rotation of Astarion, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Gale and Minthara on my team.
I’m pretty excited to try and find some synergy with what may be suboptimal builds and to really get into the role playing aspect of it and just had to post about it. Hoping to have a spoiler full discussion on how to improve some of the builds and who I can dramatically betray in exchange for more power as the game goes on. Thanks!

Sampa the Great - Energy
If you know you know. It is within me, in every inch, every hidden corner. It's a privilege, whether you think so or not. A responsibility to represent such an amazing thing. Words fail to describe it with any justice. It is something that I have felt my entire life, and I have much gratitude for the warriors who came before...for I hope I can represent well and fight with the passion and intensity the good fight requires. I
am proud, I am beautiful, I am here, I AM WOMAN!!!!!!
P.S. I would have shared the song but I'm pretty sure it's against the subs rules. Please do go have a listen. ;) Godspeed, until next time. <3

I (41M) matched with her (28F) a couple of weeks ago and hit it off, she was the first to offer her phone number so we could chat outside the app. We chatted constantly with great banter and vested interest. Set up a date for last weekend (Sunday). She lives 2 hrs away but I was overdue for a road trip and was glad to find an excuse to get out of town. I suggested we go somewhere pretty and have a picnic (we're in the PNW so there's plenty of that) and settled on a beautiful park. I offered to pick her up but after a conversation she said she felt better if we just arrived in separate cars because she wanted the option of an "exit strategy" in case the "vibe wasn't there". I respected her boundaries and complied, it was our first meeting and I am completely flexible and respectful. I was raised a gentleman (Hispanic background) and I think chivalry is not dead. Not trying to virtue signal, just think being a decent person should be the norm and traditional values are not seen much these days. The day before, I went all over town getting goodies (charc, cheese, wine, fruit, wine, et al) to cover everything she'd told me she liked so we could have lots of options. I got to the park and we instantly hit it off, found a nice bench and had a lot of fun getting to know each other with good conversation, food, wine, laughter and eventually making out, which was wonderful. I told her I really liked our day and was willing to set time for her to keep hanging out, and that if she was down I would be back next weekend and get an Airbnb. I didn't just want to assume I could invite myself over to her house without her specifically being open to it and asking me so she wouldn't feel pressured. She was completely on board and I drove back home feeling really happy and excited. She wrote me back saying "so next week, we have some things to discuss. Really just one thing, but if we are going to continue spending time together it's important information. You should know that I have HSV. And I know that would give me pause, so I understand if that's a dealbreaker for you." I told her that it's not, and that I trusted she had a handle on it, and thanked her for being transparent . To which she said she definitely did have a handle on it. She sends me a picture of her and her mom when she was a baby so I could see how much she looks like her, it was her mom breastfeeding her "which is probably an overshare" to which I said not to worry and thank you for sharing that with me. I shared a picture of my mom so she could see the resemblance as well in return. Monday rolls around and she sends me a little video of her at work looking cute, had a little bit of texting back and forth and the rest of the day no further contact. She usually would text me after work when she'd free up and we talked till we called it a day, which was happening for at least a week before we even met in person. I sent her a trailer for a series we talked about, telling her to watch season 1 and I'd save season 2 to watch it together. No reply. This morning still no communication. I figured she was busy so I went ahead and booked the Airbnb for this weekend. Not 10 minutes go by after that that she texts me saying "I'm not sure we should hang out this week" I replied with "Really? ooof just booked the Airbnb, What's up? Sorry, I should've asked you" To which she replied "I'm just feeling sick, and frankly, I'm not sure if the attraction's mutual" To which I said "Oh wow. Didn't seem that way on Sunday. What changed? Just trying to understand." She wrote me back saying "Just a little reflection. I like your attention but the it would be disingenuous." Those words. Confusing. I answered "The it?" And she says "Sorry, brain fog. I am quite sick." I told her "Hmm ok. Hope you feel better. I'd be grateful if you could clear it up when you're up for it." I want to give her the benefit of the doubt because I really did feel good chemistry when we spent the day together, but part of me is saying that I'm simping and to let it go. I'm losing my trust in women and I feel very sad about it. I'd already erased the dating apps as soon as I got home that day because I thought I found someone worth investing my time with. We really did hit it off when we met, talked about making plans together and I really felt this was heading somewhere positive.
Dating sucks and as much as I really am making an effort nothing seems to stick. A similar situation happened about a month ago with another lady who at first seemed very invested and then just lost interest. By no means trying to put myself as a victim here and if anything writing it down helped me process so if you read so far thank you and if it relates to anything you've been through just want to say you're not alone.
TL;DR thought I really hit it off with a lady that gave me all the signs it was mutual down to making plans together and she pulled a 180º.

For context, I’m a 25yo female, that comes from a mixed background (my mother 56F is a white woman from Italy, my father is from the Balkans and migrated to my country when he was younger). This is relevant and you will understand later.
I moved away from home as soon as I could when I was 18 after a not so good childhood, and currently live in another European country. My parents are divorced, my father is not really in the picture, I keep in touch with my mother on a daily basis and come visit her and the rest of the family once or twice a year. We never had the best relationship but since I moved out it improved a lot. I’d say we get along better when I’m far away from home.
Anyway, back to the reason of this post. I’ve been seeing this guy for more than a year, he’s great, we’re slowly getting to know each other and see where this is going. We are not in a rush but of course this is a relationship and I felt it was time to tell something more to my mother. I’ve always been quite open about my relationships and people I was dating, however since getting older I started being more private as I don’t think it would be good to mention every failed date to my mother (lol). We come from a typical small town where people are bigots and close-minded. The news on the tv are constantly complaining about “immigrants coming to our country” and jadajadajada. The government is right wing. So yeah, being racist is almost the norm, unfortunately.
I didn’t really mentioned much about this guy, first of all cause I’m trying to keep it private but also because I could imagine her reaction, since she’s the standard average middle age woman that you find on Facebook without much culture. She is ignorant not as an insult but in the real sense of the word: she ignores, she doesn’t inform herself and just believes whatever the media tells her.
The day after I arrived we were casually talking before bed and she just kept asking “C’mon, don’t you have a pic of this guy? Show me! C’mon c’mon! I’m your mother!” so, one side of me didn’t wanna show her, the other one was excited cause at the end of the day I’m proud of my relationship and I was happy to tell her more (maybe naively hoping for a good outcome…). So without thinking much I showed her one of the best pictures of him. Literally in the millisecond while I was showing her the picture she said something like: “hope it’s not a n****” (WHATTT???).
At that point the phone was already on her face. It was done. She said it, and at the same time she saw the picture. She was speechless and I was too. I was ashamed of her. And sad.
She didn’t say anything more for the following 10 minutes, she went to her room and I went to mine. Afterwards she just asked “does he even work?!” And I told her “don’t worry about it, he’s better off than the both of us” just to make her shut up about that question that I found so disrespectful. This made me just so sad, and disappointed.
But the worst had yet to come. We didn’t speak much about it at all until today.
We were having a casual conversation during the afternoon when the relationship topic came out. In particular, we were talking about how your partner should improve your life and not making it worse, meaning he should make you happy, he should bring good positive vibes, get along etc. that’s what I was thinking and referring to. But she started being very materialistic, she asked me “so, in which way is he improving your life?!” in a very aggressive sassy tone “I don’t see anything changing“ she said. I was mentioning that he makes me happy when the conversation degenerated. All sort of things came out of it.
She started by saying:
“well, I truly hopes this will be just a friend and you will keep it like that”
then she continued with:
“please take birth control precautions before you regret it”
“don’t come to me later saying I didn’t stop you”
and the cherry on top was:
“I would have preferred if you told me you were a lesbian cause at least that is cool nowadays”.
I was speechless and I still am.
I asked her what is it that she doesn’t like and what is she basing her opinions on, since she literally knows nothing about him. She couldn’t answer. She kept repeating the same things over and over and she also said she would never want to meet him.
I have to mention that the few guys she met that I was dating were of different cultures, but she never had a problem with them, I guess because the skin color was the same… and in her mind there are probably foreigners of Class A, B, C…
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I neither expected such a bad reaction.
All this hurts me so much.
I don’t know what to do.
In my mind it neither makes sense cause she married an immigrant but it seems like she never really came to terms with it, she never really accepted it. For instance, I know nothing about my father’s culture, I never learned the language or interesting facts about it because nobody ever thought me anything about it. I only learned about my mother’s culture, the one of the country I lived in. And I always felt out of place because this country is extremely racist. The fact that my father was not a good husband or father has nothing to do with where he comes from. If a person is an idiot, is an idiot no matter what. And I told her this when we were talking. The fact that she had a bad experience doesn’t mean that I will, just because I’m seeing someone from a different culture. I also explained to her that I am myself an immigrant, since I’m living in another country. But it doesn’t seem to click in her head. And when I told her, to her face, that she is indeed racist, she obviously denied it, because how can she be racist if she married an immigrant herself?
And of course during today’s conversation there was some victim behavior on her side, because every time I come back here it’s certain that we are gonna fight and every time it happens I say stuff like “let’s see when and if I will come back again!”. So she was bringing that up cause the other day I said “the first racist comment I hear I’m gone”. She mentioned that, saying I don’t care about her, that she has to beg for me to call her (mind you, we write good morning, good night, text here and there during the day and we talk on the phone 3/4 times a week…). She even said that “she lost me already the moment I left”. Honestly, I don’t know what else more than this she expects from me if what I do is not enough already.
I don’t really know how to handle this. And I’m also just venting and need some support. I wished we could all act as adults, respect each other, have a normal relationship. Am I asking for too much?!
Any advice is highly appreciated.
I’ll be stuck in her house for the next two days and I’ll leave on Thursday. I want her to think about her actions and realize where she did wrong before I leave. I don’t wanna put this under the carpet cause it’s unacceptable and will never forget it.
TL;DR: my 25F mother 56F doesn’t approve of my boyfriend 28M just because of the color of his skin and his religion. Her opinion is based solely on a photo I showed her and at the same time she plays the victim and claims she lost me the moment I moved abroad and I don’t care about her even if we talk everyday. I wished there was a way to behave like adults. Advices on setting boundaries?

My son is 15 months old and has a pretty good vocabulary. He frequently uses up, more and help in the correct context. He's learnt that these words get him what he wants. So when we decided to encourage him to add please on to these words I didn't think it'd be difficult. He confidently says park and pop so I know it's not an issue with the p sound. When I want him to say a word I always use the phrase "can you say..." and this is very successful for getting him to say dog, hat, hello, basically anything but please. Sometimes I refuse his request for up/more/help without a please and try to hold out for it. The result is that he will yell his request louder and louder, it eventually devolves into screaming and throwing himself on the floor. I would accept simply "p" and I demonstrate this by trying "can you say please? P p p p please?" He has once said p. Once. We showered him with praise and gave him huge smiles, he seemed really happy. I would also accept the makaton for please but he's never really grasped makaton, but I still do the sign every time I say please/p.
At dinner time he puts his fork in his mouth but can't load it himself, so when he wants another forkfull he gives me the fork and says more. I have considered holding out for the please in this scenario but I just know he'd end up a hysterical screaming mess and wouldn't eat his dinner, so I'm not convinced this is wise. I'm at a loss.
Manners are important to me and I know it's not a competition but his cousins never miss a please or thank you and I don't want him to be the rude kid in the family. Or anywhere for that matter! Any ideas greatly appreciated because we're stumped.

The dreams are the killer. Throughout the day I spend 6 to 7 miles walking and talking on the phone to friends and family. I repeatedly anaylze and find every logical reason why the relationship was not meant to last, why we were incompatible or that she was too immature to communicate and solve problems together, and why she just wasn't right for me, but the emotions are so heavy I cannot even attempt to use words to describe it. I just want to go back in time, I want to talk to her again, I want to fix things, but we were in this cycle for the entire 2.5 years together of push and pull, avoidance and anxiety, bottling up concerns and feeling this dread that this won't last, all the way until she just fucking dumped me without even trying to fix anythig. I hate this, I hate that I feel I'll never connect with someone that deeply again, her unique soul and personality were something I never even imagined to find in a woman, and I cannot shake this despair. I am 25 and I have a lot going for me, I am tall and good-looking, I am creative and passionate, musically talented, a good writer, a good sense of humor, a good job, a good support system, spiritual depth and all of these things going for me yet I feel no hope for my future without her, no matter how illogical it is - we met as a hookup, she was only 21 and wanted to go fuck other guys, I just cannot stop replaying my mistakes in my head and wishing I was more on top of my own life so that shewould still be attracted to me, It's hell.

Hi, in the Dread Talons box ill be getting my 3rd Daemon prince, I already have one with the sword and one with an axe, since this one is going to be a tzeentch word bearers prince id like to use a mace or staff, any suggestions on which bits or 3rd party bits might be good for what im looking for? ive thought about jamming together 2 demon prince axes to create a 4 flanged mace but would prefer some more proper looking options where possible. thanks.

This all happened last summer shortly after my paternal grandmother died, and I’ve just managed to get everything in order for the judgement of internet strangers. I did my best to provide context were I could.
TL;DR: We found out we have a half sister after our grandmother died and after we were done dealing with a variety of family issues. The Half-sister contacted us against the wishes of our dad and late grandmother. Due to a variety of reasons, we made the family decision to have nothing to do with her.
So for context:
My dad emigrated from Mexico to California with his family to look for work. He and my mom were childhood sweethearts but they were not together when he left Mexico for California. This is confirmed by my parents and my uncles.
While in California, my dad met this woman and they messed around a little bit. He says it wasn’t that serious of a relationship. He was young, got drunk often and she was young and pretty. I believe my dad was in his early twenties as was this girl if my math is right. This girl was also a known flirt and slept around a lot. Naturally, she gets pregnant and claims its my dad’s. He doesn’t believe her despite her insisting its his baby so he dips.
(Based on the info from my dad, and what my sister could gather, my dad was the only one with a stable job so we think she was trying to baby trap him. I’m not trying to make excuses, my dad isnt perfect but he’s honest and loves my mom).
My dad’s family, especially his sister, did NOT like this lady at all due to the aforementioned sleeping around so she helps him get to texas. My mom had just emigrated as well and my dad wanted to be with my mom. So he leaves this girl. Baby Momma threatened with child support, or that she would abort the baby if he left which pissed my dad off. When you’re mexican and catholic, threatening an abortion is a no no. So he leaves her, meets back up with my mom, married her, and I come along. We hear nothing of them for a while and its not like the lady couldnt track him down.
Flashforward to a few years. My mom gets a call from BM’s brother where he yells at her and my dad calling him a piece of shit for leaving BM and the baby. My dad ended up taking the phone and said again, the baby isnt his, and that he wants nothing to do with them and to never contact his family again. My mom was then aware of the other girl and she was mad, but again, they weren’t together and my dad was young drunk and stupid. So they push it down, ignore it, move on and forget.
Then my grandmother died. She knew about the other girl and she believes that it is my dad’s. My grandma would travel between our house and my uncles in california where she would meet with the other girl. Everyone on my dad’s side does think she’s his daughter.
Added context that is important.
For my mom, and only my mom, my dad stopped drinking and was sober for almost 23 years. However, in 2020, being surrounded by other alcoholics and being away for days for a job, he started drinking again. My dad helps build houses and would sometimes go all the way to oklahoma Or lousiana for a job. No he didn’t cheat. His coworkers actually teased him because he called my mom so often just to talk to her. I need y’all to understand that my dad loves my mom. He would move mountains for her. He’s not a perfect person, but he was a good dad and husband. Never hit us. Never raised his voice. We destroyed his model car collection that included some expensive pieces as kids. He didn’t ell he saw we were happy and tried to hide the survivors better. He gave my mom everything.
When she found out, they fought so badly it tore them apart. My dad is also stubborn to a fault and believed he could manage it. In the end, it got bad wnough my mom let me. Have a go at him because he was not listening or doing anything. He was also stressed as my sister was in bootcamp and I was getting married. So i think drinking was just easier for him.
I tore into him that day. I cornered him and confronted him for refusing help even though we offered. I told him how much it was hurting mom and when he refused to listen, I threatened to kick him out of my wedding if he didn’t do something about his drinking. He finally did especially after we think all their bad energy attracted an evil entity. I can elaborate if asked but its not relevant. Quit cold turkey again and he and my mom talked about how they would move forward. They began going to church a lot more often, all is good. My dad is doing better emotionally and is trying to make up with my mom. We have a conversation with my mom about being more patien and communicating more.
In all of this, my mom was dealing with liver issues and the stress of all of this was not helping.
Back to the story.
My grandmother died in march of 2023. I meet my cousins through video chat bc they were in Mexico. They video the service and funeral most of which we paid for. My dad bought a beautiful coffin for her, paid for roses and the gravestone. We paid for mariachi because my grandma always wanted mariachi for her funeral. We mourn, we move on.
My halfsister contacts my dad first to try and talk to him. My dad tells her again to leave us be that we want nothing to do with her. My dad’s number is public because thats how he gets jobs. So thats how she contacted him.
So she contacts us.
No one told us about her. She knew about us because my grandma would tell her about us. But we didn’t know about her. Everyone left it up to my dad to lake that decision and he never did.
My sister and I are both contacted by this girl through facebook. The profile is new and I’d almost gotten scammed once so we’re suspicious. We play along, ask for ID, video, proof. Everything. She provides it all. BC we thought she was a scammer, we weren’t exactly nice. So we’re thinking there might be some truth. We call my dad, he denies it. Call my mom, he denies it. I have my sister call him for me again because she’s better about getting things out of him. I call an uncle that Half Sister says knows about her.
Finally, they tell us everything that y’all just read. My sister and I are reeling, but we don’t tell the other three siblings. My mom is upset wanting to know why this girl is bothering us and that she doesn’t want her bothering us. She and my dad fight and my sister and I head to them (we’d moved out). We talk to our siblings separately.
My sister and I decide we don’t want anything to do with her. She is a stranger to us, and our parents are in a good place right now. They deserve peace. Not to mention, she went against the wishes of our grandma and my mom was still dealing with her liver issues. They could not. Handle another big issue right now.
So we gather everyone. Tell my parents that my sister and I want to tell our siblings together as a family and make a decision as a family. We preemptively talked to our siblings and agreed we wanted nothing to do with her.
I would rather not get into too many details. My mom spiraled. We both have anxiety but only one of us (me) sought a therapist. She was convinced my dad would leave her and that we would hate her or turn against her. (She is not a narcissist. She has anxiety shes finally learning to manage it). I removed my mom and brought her outside to breathe while my sister talked with my dad. Both me and my dad struggle to voice what we want to say and so it was becoming a bad cycle with my mom not being fair to him. My sister helps my dad word what he wants to say. But my sister and I get a handle on the situation. When we planned this, we knew we wanted to make sure mom was good. Dad already made his opinion in the matter clear. We just also knew our mom.
My dad reaffirms that he loves my mom, and us and doesn’t want to leave her. He also tells us that its our decision if we want to talk to this girl. My siblings and us all agree that we don’t want anything to do with her. We spend some time talking, winding down, go to ihop and head home.
Where I feel bad for her:
She wanted to meet us and get to know us. My parents had five of us and we are all very close while she was an only child. So I understand where she's coming from and I have a lot of sympathy from her. She knew parts of our extended family and whatever my grandmother told her about us. You see videos online of adoptees or people who were seperated from their parents who want to reconnect with their families and they are hailed for it. Even a scroll through the comment section people praise them for the attempt and villify the family if they reject them. And I understand why she wants to meet us. We're her siblings, but I can't bring myself to.
My parents just got done dealing with my dad's relapse into drinking. My mom had forgiven him and were trying to move past it. My mom could not handle any more stress due to her liver (or maybe it was her kidneys. The doctors said she needed to watch out for her blood pressure). My sister and I knew that this would be an issue and we did our best to deal with it and act as family counselors. My parents aren't perfect, but they're good parents and raised us well and I know they love each other. They recently had a proper wedding ceremony after twenty six years. Our siblings and I are starting to finally give back to them (taking them out to eat, giving them nice gifts, replacing the model cars we destroyed years ago). We would do just about anything to make them happy.
In my eyes, our half sister (if she is blood related) went against my grandmother's wishes and only contacted us AFTER my grandmother had been dead for a few months. And then, after my dad told her not to bother us, she contacted my sister and I. I loved my grandmother. We were devastated when she died so right as we're starting to recover from that, we get with this and it pissed me off.
I understand she wants to get to know us, but I don't want anything to do with her and my siblings (even after talking with them) agreed. We don't know her. We are happy where we are right now and don't want anything that is going to ruin that. She is a stranger that is going to upend the peace that we finally have. And now, a year later, she is all but forgotten to us because to us, she really isn't anything. And its not like she's not doing well for herself. She's works as a nurse and is living her life.
So Reddit, am I the asshole (or are we the assholes) for wanting nothing to do with our half-sister who we never met and didn't know existed?

I was always a good looking guy.
Good eyes, jawline, abs, things of that nature.
However, I've also always been helplessly awkward around women for whatever reason.
After a lot of thinking and many times during family dinners my dad drunkly demanded me to bang a woman already, I decided to grudgingly install Tinder.
I already had some exprience with texting women online, so it was the same usual crap that made me not want to install tinder in the first place:
1)I text a girl.
2)she takes hours to reply because she wants to seem like she's so cool and busy and because she frankly doesn't give a fuck about me.
3)I do the same.
4)I say some silly jokes so she likes me like I'm some fucking clown.
5)I then ask to meet up.
6)she ghosts me.
7)on to the next girl.
This frustrating pattern went on with 3 girls until I finally texted a girl who i thought was nicer.
This girl, Casey, actually seemed to be interested. She said I'm funny, and handsome and that she'd love to meet up.
I was very intimacy deprived, so that was enough to completely turn off any sort of rationale I had.
Looking back, I should've been wiser.
She proposed to meet at a park that was suspiciously right next to my house.
She knew where I lived.
Again, I was too horny to notice this.
We meet up and start talking. As we talk, even my extremely thirsty ass notices... It's just *too* easy. She laughs at every dumb joke I make. She compliments me a lot. She's the one to initiate touch... Almost like... I'm where she wants me to me and she wants me to stay there... The more we talk, the more I notice her laugh seems... forced. Again, like she's just using it to lure me in. At one point, even my horny ass began feeling uncomfortable and it started getting late. I hugged her and said goodbye. I was then stopped. I felt a sharp, burning sudden pain in my arm. I sighed and turned around cautiously, knowing it'll be an unpleasant sight. Turns out, it wasn't an unpleasant sight. It was much worse than that. Her hand was now covered in blood as her nails dug deeper and deeper into my forearm. I gasped and tried to release myself, only for her grip to strengthen. My eyes then traveled from her hand to her face. Her face was contorted in horror; her lips were pursed tightly and her forehead was scrunched, her eyes were wide and her pupils were so dilated that they were almost completely black. Her bottom lip trembled and a stray tear rolled down her cheek.
"u-um... why are you sca-"
She cuts me off
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembled as she forced out the words, "Don't go. I don't want to do this."
"Do what...?" I cautiously ask
"...please just come with me. p-please..." she answers, her voice very shaken.
I barely knew this woman. She showed a ton of red flags and this just escalated significantly. Although it created much guilt in me, I decided to run away.
"COME BACK, PLEASE!!!" She screamed, her voice became so hoarse from her desperate screaming it hurt to hear her...
Eventually, I arrive back home.
I think to myself "Finally some peac-" I feel some liquid drip on my nose from the ceiling. I turn on the light and look up. My eyes widen. I swiftly run to bathroom and vomit for what seems like hours from the grotesque sight I've just witnessed. I return to the room and stare at Casey's corpse. It was such a grotesque sight that I won't even attempt to describe it, as I think there's such a thing as "too much". But to give you some idea of what happened to her, let's just say... she had very beautiful and clear skin... I wonder where it went...
I kept staring at her body as it hung lifelessly from the ceiling. I then remembered something she said at the start of the date... "I would panic if you didn't come hehe..."