When you're rich enough, you get perks you can only dream of. Literally. But somehow, my paradise turned into hell.
Have you ever had a dream so amazing, you wished you could relive it? Explore it? Relish it? Well, when you're rich enough, you don't have to wish. It's a reality thanks to dream banks. You may have heard of them and their pricy services, which include recording, saving, and projecting dreams.
For example, if you'd like a dream recorded, you can book one of their luxurious suites for the night, where the dream techs will fit you with a special helmet and leave you to rest. The next morning, they'll replay the recorded dream for you via the helmet and ask if you want to shell out the extra bucks to save it. If you don't, they'll delete it and you can pay to book for another time to try again.
If you do decide to save it, you must select an item within the dream that will act as the exit key. (This will come in handy during projections.) While still wearing the helmet, you must touch the item, and the dream techs will label those electric signals as the key.
Afterwards, everything is saved under your name, and you can now relive your dream at any time by booking a suite for three, five, or eight hours. Unlike recordings, during projections, you don't have to wait for sleep to come. After you enjoy a snack of your choice, the helmet is fitted and you're immediately transported to your dream, where you have free will and can enjoy it at your leisure. And if you ever need to leave early, this is when you touch the key, which will shut down the helmet right away.
In my case, the key is the stegosaurus leather rug I have hanging on the wall of my throne room. I never have a reason to touch it otherwise, making it a perfect key. I've also never had to touch it. Experiencing life as an all-powerful, worshipped being who lives on my own planet and hunts dinosaurs in my spare time, I relished my dream to the last second.
Yes, the fees are exorbitant, but at the time, I felt it was worth it. The techs were skilled, the system was sleek, and the dreams were private. Each could only be unlocked by the unique brainwaves of the dreamer.
Or so I thought.
My literal nightmare began when I booked a five-hour projection on a rainy Friday afternoon. After taking a sip of champagne to wash down the cranberry brie bites, I settled into the cool silk sheets with a smile. My usual dream tech smiled back as she fastened my helmet, and the last thing I heard was her wishing me pleasant dreams before I was plunged into darkness.
I waited for the split-second adjustment from reality to the dream world, and my confusion grew when I didn't find myself on my throne surrounded by fawning gods and goddesses.
Instead, I found myself in the middle of an endless street. Alone. There were no cars, no life, not even wind. Towering street lamps lined the sidewalk as far as I could see, arcing over the road and tinting everything an eerie red. Behind them, identical buildings stood side by side, silent, their dark, narrow windows hollow.
My pulse spiking, I whipped around. The other direction was just as endless. Uneasy confusion prickled beneath my skin. This had to be someone else's dream. The techs must have made a mistake. I didn't know how it was possible, but there was no other explanation.
My unease piqued as my situation sank in. I was in a stranger's dream and I didn't know the key. I was stuck here until my five hours ran out. Or until the techs realized their mistake. I was ready to rip them a new one once I was out, but until then, I had no choice but to wait.
I studied my surroundings with a frown before I walked over to the curb and sat down, and that was when I noticed I couldn't feel anything. I also noticed I was naked. It didn't matter. There was no one here, and none of this was real anyway.
Time passed, and I tried to distract myself from my nettled offense by humming, but no sound came out. Sitting up, I took a deep breath and screamed. Not even a squeak was heard. I slapped my hand against the ground. Nothing. This place was like a black hole of the senses.
Sighing, I lay down on my back and stared at the red light above me, wondering if I could fall asleep in a dream. I tried, but the more I wished to escape this silent, crimson prison, the more it seemed to come into focus. Soon, the utter lack of noise and movement grew from slightly unnerving to completely intolerable.
There was no way I could wait. I'd go insane. I had to get out of here. I had to find the key.
Jumping up, I ran to the nearest building and wrenched open the door, and a pitch black void greeted me. I gasped, and gasped again as it felt like my very breath was being suctioned out of my lungs. Panicking, silent wheezes rattled in my chest as I struggled to yank myself out of the vacuum, jerking my limbs and bucking my body until I toppled over backwards on the sidewalk.
Gulping in fitful breaths, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the road without looking back, my wide eyes scanning the horizon for salvation. I just wanted out of here, but the hellish path stretched on forever, making me feel like I was running in place as every identical building and street lamp mocked me. Even my silent stomping and mute panting served to draw insanity closer.
And then, a person showed up.
There, in the distance.
With my hope spurred, I raced towards them, desperate. I didn't care who they were. I needed to break this monotony.
As I got closer, hope morphed to confusion, and then to despair. The person was me. It was a mirror, propped up across the entire street.
Sweat-soaked, I slowed down to a jog before I stopped right in front of my reflection. It was me alright, naked, exhausted, and frustrated. But the eyes, something was off about the eyes. With an anxious frown, I stepped closer, staring into them, and they stared back …
… until they glanced behind me.
I gasped and jumped away, and so did my reflection … before it glanced over my shoulder again.
A chill trickled down my spine. My reflection had nothing behind it but the empty street, so I gulped and turned around, and my mouth fell open in a silent scream as a lovecraftian behemoth barrelled its way towards me. With its slick shell gleaming red beneath the lights, it slammed down one spiny tentacle after the other as its five mouths bared their dripping, concentric fangs.
Drenched in undiluted horror, tremors gripped my body as I stumbled away until my back was against the mirror. I knew death was a foolproof key in a dream, but I didn't know if this creature would kill me right away or leave me to suffer in agony until my five hours were up.
With it only inches away, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into the mirror, and my stomach flipped as I fell backwards. I opened my mouth to gasp, but there was nothing for me to draw in. Floating in an airless void, I flailed and thrashed, my wild eyes scanning the darkness for answers as I began to spin around.
Although death would free me, one of my greatest fears was suffocating. On one of my weightless rotations, a red, glass cube passed me by, and I grabbed it, hoping it was a breathing device. I brought it close to my face, and I gawked at what it held within.
Me.
Surrounded by identical buildings and red street lamps while a lovecraftian behemoth tore me apart.
Horrified, I threw the cube as far as I could and increased my efforts to escape this void. Yet all the flailing and thrashing was for naught as the darkness revealed no end. My eyesight began to go red as my lungs spasmed, and I clawed at my throat as my pulse stuttered in my chest.
The red kept growing and growing until it engulfed my entire vision, and I gave up. There was nothing to do but face my fears and die. With my straining heart lumbering, I let myself go limp as I stared at the red and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wasn't dying.
In fact, I could breathe just fine.
Frowning, I opened my eyes, and intense unease spread through my core. Above me, a red moon had taken up the entire sky, each one of its craters crystal clear, like eyes watching me. I turned my head away, and I realized I was in a park, laying down on the grass. Sitting up, I blinked in surprise at the pond right beside me, its opaque water reflecting the moon's red light. Ducks were swimming in a circle across its surface, their movements smooth with nary a splash.
Trees surrounded us, so dense I couldn't tell when one began and the other ended. It was mind-numbingly quiet here as well, and I still couldn't feel anything or make any noise, but at least the ducks were moving. This place seemed more tolerable than the last, and I was willing to wait out my five hours here. I hoped at least an hour had passed already, but with dreams, one never knew. All I knew was that I was too exhausted to search for the key. And too scared. I didn't know whose dream this was, but they had to be masochistic if they saved this nightmare.
Curling up beside the pond, I worked on calming myself down as I watched the ducks swim in their systematic circle over and over and over. I tried counting the rotations the way one would count sheep, but that still didn't lull me to sleep. I wished I'd chosen the three-hour projection, but at least I hadn't chosen the eight-hour one.
Distorted circus music crackled around me and I jolted up, my heart ricocheting in my chest. There was finally sound, but the last thing I wanted to hear was a cliche horror movie soundtrack. Gulping, I looked around. The music was coming from the trees, and my stomach dropped when I spied a shadow behind one of them. Then another. And another. They emerged into the crimson moonlight, and my blood turned to ice.
Clowns.
I whipped around, trembling to the rhythm of my frantic pulse. They were surrounding me. Dozens of them. As classic as any clown could be. Colorful clothes, big shoes, silly hair, exaggerated makeup. I wasn't scared of clowns, as long as they were where they belonged. And they didn't belong here, staring at me with big, empty eyes and yellow, toothy grins.
I tried to convince myself that they weren't dangerous since they didn't have weapons and didn't seem monstrous, but when they took a step closer in unison, I jumped back, nearly falling into the pond. The ducks remained oblivious, still swimming in their circle. The distorted circus music got louder, and my hair stood on end when I saw the grass ripple in front of each clown. They were sending something my way through the ground.
Panicking, I jumped into the pond, and I screamed as I sank right in. There was no bottom. There was no water either. The pond was filled with red, translucent spheres, each the size of a tennis ball. Still able to breathe, I began swimming through the spheres with clumsy breast strokes, just hoping I could end up as far away from the clowns as possible.
After swimming for what felt like enough time, I tried to swim up, until I realized I had no idea which direction I was facing. Remember a trick for those stuck in avalanches, I spat, but my glob of saliva just hovered in front of me. Before panic could set in, I noticed what looked like an office desk floating amidst the spheres in the distance. After blinking a few times to make sure it was really there, I swam towards it, desperate for any change in my situation.
It was an office desk, a wooden one with carved borders and locked drawers. Tucked beneath it was a stool, and the moment I pulled it out and set it under my ass, an office replaced the red spheres.
I grunted as gravity returned, and I looked around in bewilderment at the cluttered bookshelves and grimy floors. Dust was floating everywhere, highlighted by the red light filtering in through the blinds behind me. I jumped as a clock hanging on the wall chimed. Its glass was too dirty for me to tell the time, but I was glad I could hear. I coughed at the dust. And I could make noise. I dusted my hands. And I could feel. I could even smell, which I now wished I couldn't as I wrinkled my nose at the faint stench of rot.
After failing to read the spines of some of the books on the shelves, I studied the shadowy corners of the room. A slack-jawed skeleton hung in the far end, and a faded poster with anatomical diagrams curled off a cupboard. This had to be a doctor's office. Was the creator of this dream a doctor?
A silhouette slid in front of the frosted glass door, and I gulped as the knob began to turn. A hand reached in, gripping the edge one finger at a time, and my heart dropped as I knew this horror cliche was only going to be followed by another. Having no time to think, I slid off the stool and crouched beneath the desk, my hand over my mouth as cobwebs clung to me.
Praying spiders wouldn't swarm me, I peeked through a small slit in the wood, and I froze when an emaciated nurse walked in the room. Layers upon layers of blood coated her scrubs, so much so that I couldn't even tell what color they originally were. She had no shoes. No feet either. Just ankle stubs, and my stomach turned as I heard bone clunk against the tiles.
A surgical mask covered her face, as bloodstained as her scrubs, and grimy lab goggles obscured her eyes. I was grateful, because judging by the pus leaking out of her scabbed, balding scalp, I didn't want to know what her face looked like. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot became, and I struggled to keep myself from retching.
She stopped halfway into the room, and I gawked at her hands. They were transforming. Her fingers elongating into razor-edged blades. She then began to hunch over, and I cringed as her spine cracked and popped until she was as bent as a candy cane, her face staring at her pelvis.
As if that wasn't unsettling enough, her head creaked as it spun around 180 degrees, now facing the front, upside down. Right after, her arms shot to the ground, and I watched with increasing dread as she bent them at the elbows and wrists so they flanked her head like distorted T-Rex arms.
She spread her fingers out and took a few more steps towards me, and I held my breath, hoping she couldn't hear my rabid heart or smell my fear. Her ankle bones clicked and clacked against the tiles as she made her way around the desk, and I cowered as my frantic eyes searched for a weapon. I found none, but I did spy a brass button beside my head.
With her legs now an arms distance away, I had nothing to lose as I jammed my thumb into the button. The back of the desk flung open, and I scrambled to my feet and dashed out from my hiding place, screaming in response to the nurse screeching behind me. Bursting through the door, I held up my fists and began punching like a maniac in fearful anticipation of a horde of nurses swarming me.
Except I was no longer in a hospital. I was in an outdoor parking lot. Alone. And judging by the roiling red clouds, a storm was brewing. After a second to collect my bearings, I dove into the closest car, thankful it was unlocked. The moment I slammed the door shut, lightning blinded me as thunder cracked and the downpour began. Sighing in relief, I tried to shake away my adrenaline, but the bloodshot eyes in my rearview mirror reignited my panic.
Before I could react, a belt snapped over my neck, pinning my head back against the headrest. With a frightened wheeze, I clawed at the leather, and I flinched as hot, heavy breath wafted across my ear. Gagging at the putrid smell, I reached over, desperate to scratch my strangler's face or poke their eyes out.
I felt their greasy hair and tried to pull it, but my fingers refused to hold on. I tried again and again, using my nails for purchase, but the strands just kept slipping out of my weak grip. Shifting focus, I tried to claw at their eyes, but it felt as though I was moving through molasses as my hand slid down their face. Once I felt a wet, bulbous eye, I tried to scratch it, but I didn't have enough strength to do anything damage.
My frustration clashed with my terror and I tried to punch them, but my arm swung back in slow motion and merely prodded a stubbly cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed and gasped, my strangler's laugh adding insult to injury. Despite knowing death will set me free, fear and self-preservation rummaged through my mind, searching for a solution. And they found one.
Hoping I had enough grip and energy, I reached down and found the reclining lever. Wrapping my fingers around it tight, I jerked it up and heaved my body back, and I gulped in a deep breath as I fell backwards, the belt now slack. Not at all prepared to face my attacker, I slipped out from beneath the belt, flung open the door, and zoomed out into the storm.
Sheets of rain obscured my vision, but not enough for me to see that the keys were left inside a red convertible. After making sure no one was hiding in the back, I jumped in, started the engine, and took off, the wheels squealing through the puddles. A sole street curled down a hill, and I took it, adrenaline pumping in waves through my quivering body.
This rush was a confusing mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. I wanted out, but I wasn't giving up. I made it this far, and I was going to survive every cliche this masochist dreamed up. Sharks? Snakes? Zombies? Bring it on. And afterwards, I was going to detail every single trial and tribulation I went through as I sued the dream bank for all the trauma they caused me.
Up ahead, the road curved, and I gasped as it ended in a cliff. I slammed the breaks, but they didn't do anything. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I slammed them again and again as I yanked the hand break as far as it would go. The car refused to slow down, and I cursed myself for not anticipating this cliche. In a move of desperation, I swerved, but it wasn't enough as the car careened over the edge and took me with it.
My heart hung in my throat as I hung on to the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my screams frozen in my lungs, the raindrops like needles. An endless body of water spread below me, and I knew sharks were my next challenge. I screwed my eyes shut as I awaited the inevitable plunge …
… and I gasped as the car crashed against the surface.
I lurched forward, and I cried out as I bashed my forehead against the wheel. Groaning, I leaned back, my ears ringing as I looked around, disoriented. I was still in the convertible, but we were right side up, having crashed into the concrete wall of an indoor garage. Blood trickled down my face and I reached up, only to feel around my head in shock.
I was wearing the helmet.
Why was it in the dream?
Or had I made it out?
I looked down. I wasn't naked. My pyjamas were plastered to my sweat-soaked skin. I was out. I looked around at the broken glass and mangled metal in confusion. But if I was finally out, why was I in a car and not between silk sheets?
I removed the helmet, and a yell from behind made me jump. I turned to see one of the dream techs running towards me. Was she always that skinny? And why were her scrubs red instead of the usual blue?
She made it to me, panting as she took the helmet out of my hands, and I wrinkled my nose at her unpleasant breath. She said I'd had a nightmare and began sleepwalking, and I'd left the dream bank and stole a car from their underground parking before she triggered a wake-up signal in the helmet, which made me crash.
I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing. I told her I'd booked a projection, not a recording, and she gave me a concerned frown and claimed the opposite. Anger replaced my confusion, and I called her a liar and accused them of misconduct, and she reminded me that dreams can only be unlocked by the dreamer.
Furious, I cursed at her as I tried to get out of the car, demanding to see my file. She was quick to tell me not to move in case I made my injuries worse as she pulled out her phone and said she was going to call an ambulance.
While I sat there and waited, fuming, I glimpsed my reflection in the dangling rearview mirror. Unease rippled beneath my skin and I sat up, grabbing the mirror and angling it to show my neck.
There was an angry red mark across it.
As though I was recently strangled.
Trembling, I tilted the mirror up.
Cobwebs. Stuck in my hair.
Dumbstruck in utter stupefaction, I scanned the rest of my body. My pyjamas were dirty and there was black under my fingernails, but the rest of my examination was cut short by tinny circus music. A chill jolted down my spine and I whipped my head to face the dream tech. That was her ringtone. She smiled as she answered the call, and I drew back at her yellow, toothy grin.
What was going on? I was out of the dream, I knew I was. Had everything been real? What had the dream bank done with me? Done to me?
Ambulance sirens wailed as they entered the underground parking, and the flashing red lights reflecting off the walls triggered my recent traumas. With terror-fueled adrenaline flooding my veins, I jerked my legs free of the wreck, jumped out of the car, and booked it, the dream tech's yells merging with the screeching sirens behind me.
SR

How do they got me teaming up with kids who don’t know how too speed flip. They took people from the high ranks and dragged em down for no reason. While leaving the low ranks where they are. This game is dead and I’m cringing.

Hi! Sorry if this is ramble-y, I just want to make sure I give all the information. I moved into my new apartment about a week ago. The complex is brand new and half of it is still being built. My specific apartment is part of a building of about 18 apartments that all were available to be moved into starting on the first.,Because of this, I knew (and expected) there would be a short period where minor issues would arise and be addressed—like an outlet not working or the water taking a long time to get hot. I also knew that there would be issues getting the wifi to work (just because there always is haha) and of course, there was. However, my issue with the internet was different than the rest of the buildings. I had an issue with the modem whereas they had an issue with the fiber optic cables/connections. So on Wednesday, the internet providers requested entry to my apartment because the damaged cabled happened to be inside. Apparently when the dry wall or something was being installed, they had accidentally punctured the cables with a staple gun. So in order to fix the wifi for the rest of the building, they had to cut a large hole in my wall (about 5ft in height and 2ft at its widest) and spent about 4 hours in my apartment fixing things before putting the cut out dry wall back on and leaving. They did put the drywall back on, but it still needs to be like spackled (?) and painted like there is still the cut marks and exposed nail heads. Everyone I have told about this says that I need to request a discount on my rent but I worry that if I bring it up to my property management, they will just brush me off and say that it's all just part of being in a brand new apartment. Also for reference, this is a "luxury" apartment, my 1 bedroom rent is coming in at around $2200/mo. Any advice?

Recently, I thought about the difference between Ryokugyu and Akainu – both are on a pretty extreme end of Justice. Although all for justice, Aramaki favours following the justice set by the Celestial Dragons. Sakazuki, however, is more of a law and code follower kinda guy: he has a set of rules and believes them to be absolutely true (morals and ethics aside, that’s not the point here). This means that Akainu kinda has the same attitude to offer to all people, which we have already seen when he lashed out at Gorosei due to Doflamingo’s messing around.
Which led me to this thought: Akainu is loyal to his justice, not to Gorosei. And he has already been kinda annoyed with them.
The war with or the fall of Imu is most likely to happen eventually and I wonder what will happen when Gorosei requests aid from Akainu and the Navy: will Sakazuki offer it? Whether he will see it as an opportunity to set his own justice in stone, or just be outright annoyed because they might be playing around his personal rules again, or whatever else happens–
I think it is very much possible for Akainu to refuse the aid, resulting in the Navy more or less officially rebelling against the World Government (which would be a nail in the coffin for the WG) OR in a more extreme case, I can see Sakazuki straight up killing a Gorosei member out of spite.
And no, I don’t see Sakazuki becoming an ally or “redeeming” himself (as painful as it is, he kinda doesn’t have to since he is following “justice” in One Piece world, pirates ARE criminals and deserters are deserters). Even if that were to happen, Akainu would most likely remain an antagonist to be beaten by Luffy or one of his allies.
Thanks for reading!

Personally for me, it's long nails. My mom always associated my long nails with being feminine and would never cut them short when I was a kid. So, when I got old enough to do it on my own, I started them really short. Like, sometimes painfully short. She even still now tells me "I don't know what happened to your beautiful nails". I know that guys can have long nails too, but it's been associated with being feminine my whole life. So, anyone else have something out of the norm that gives you gender dysphoria?

In 2018, the announcement of a "Rugrats" reboot was mostly met with excited reactions. There were even some skeptics back then who thought that reviving the show was unnecessary, but the vast majority were keen on the idea of the show coming back. In the interrim, after companies started rebooting everything (Compared to 2018, when companies were selective about what they brought back), people's opinions started tilting towards the negative side, feeling like the original show offered all it can and reviving it was "nostalgiabait".
In spite of the negative voices getting louder, the character designs and first look animation were initially praised for being a seamless transition to CG. That is, until those promotion shorts started popping up. People started becoming more anvilicious about the reboot, finding issue with the animation being "stiff" and "soulless", and criticising the character designs for being "uncanny". Things went from bad to worse, when The AV Club publicly announced that Betty was going to be a lesbian in the reboot, and worded it as if the producers made the change out of a place of shallow stereotyping. (All despite Kate Boutilier not mentioning her sexuality in any interview, and the show hardly bringing it up) That was the final nail in the coffin, and people went from mildly criticising it, to waging a war against it, tearing it apart for the character changes (Particularly Lou being a hippie, and Susie being a baby), art style, animation, color schemes, rehashing older episodes (Many believing these were actual scenes from the episodes themselves), and not having a purpose to exist than other being a nostalgia moneygrab.
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The naysayers got so loud that they started trying to find anything about the reboot to rip on. (When Kimi was introduced at Angelica's preschool, and corrected Angelica for telling the babies to scram, people were outraged, accusing the reboot of "retconning" Paris despite being a different continuity) While the reboot is popular with it's target audience, and has been able to maintain a big level of success despite all of this, I can't fathom most of the hate towards the reboot at all. It's faithful to the original, has most of the same writers, fixes some of the original's flaws (Angelica having a character arch, and showing a more empathetic side to her compared to the original, Dil being less selfish, having a wider scope of the parents' backstories, making permanent changes to the status quo, answering questions that were left lingering in the original) and is different enough to carry it's identity, but preserves the vision the original brought to the table. I'm even more confused, since it belongs in the same company as DuckTales, and Blue's Clues and You, which were similar reboots, but were positively received with older audiences.
Some of the problem may be that people didn't realize that this was a remake (We didn't get too much information about it until 2021), and it was jarring for them to see the changes they made, but it does raise to question that if this came out in 2018, back when we had reboots like DuckTales, and Muppet Babies, which were lauded for being charming reimaginings, and companies weren't reviving every show under the sun and the media controversies that permeated this show didn't happen, if people would be singing a different tune?

Interesting fact, there is an ending to Fallout 2 where the Intelligent Deathclaws survive. Read about it here. Basically, a scripting error prevents this Ending from playing out, but you needed to kill Dr. Schreber and fix the Vault Computer. This is my take on how the Intelligent Deathclaws would survive and thrive in a Wasteland that's slowly becoming part of the New California Republic.
Goris returns to Vault 13 and excitedly tells his father, Gruthar about the destruction of The Enclave. He and the Tribe of Deathclaws breathe a sigh of relief, knowing they won't be hunted down. Gruthar then explains that they can't stay in the Vault forever as the nearby NCR will keep expanding and will find them eventually. The only way for his tribe to survive the coming decades is to join NCR.
Knowing Deathcalws are typically shot on sight, Gruthar sends one of the Humans in his tribe as an ambassador to NCR to discuss joining. The Ambassador heads to NCR and finds the NCR Hall of Congress. Inside, the Ambassador discusses about the tribe that wishes to join NCR, but the Congress' Ears perk up when it's mentioned the tribe is living in Vault 13. The location of Vault 13 has been relatively lost to NCR for a very long time. President Tandi is informed of this and remembering her old friend who rescued her all those years ago, she decides to hear the Ambassador out.
President Tandi and the Ambassador discuss the topic of the tribe joining NCR. The room goes silent when the Ambassador mentions that the tribe he was representing are a pack of Intelligent Deathclaws. He talks about how Humans and Deathclaws are living amongst eachother within Vault 13 and the Alpha Male of the pack, Gruthar sent him to discuss joining NCR.
Everyone in the Hall of Congress is very skeptical about this Ambassador's offer, but everyone is shocked when President Tandi speaks up states she would like to see this place for herself. Several NCR Congress Members try to talk Tandi out of it and even her son, Hoss tries to talk his mother out of going, but Tandi's decision is final. Tandi states she would love to see the home of her old friend and she'll be fine if these Deathclaws are as peaceful as the Ambassador says they are.
Knowing President Tandi's decision is final, her Congress Members don't push the issue, but tell the Ambassador that if anything happens, he would be held responsible. The Ambassador agrees and reassures everyone that these Deathclaws are intelligent and peaceful. He contacts Gruthar and informs him the NCR President is willing to come to Vault 13 to meet with him personally. This is a big risk for the Intelligent Deathclaws, but the reward is also big for Gruthar and his pack of Deathclaws. He sends the coordinates.
President Tandi and her team of NCR Secret Service board a recently captured Enclave Vertibird and fly to the coordinates. They land and exit the Vertibird outside an otherwise unassuming cave. Gruthar is already waiting for them and politely welcomes President Tandi and her guards. They follow him inside and are stunned that this is the fabled Vault 13 their hero, the Vault Dweller grew up in. During the tour, Tandi is impressed that Humans and Deathclaws can coexist together. Gruthar gives a brief summary of their history, from being created by the Enclave to being left here and continuing to thrive.
Gruthar adds that his pack cannot stay cramped in the Vault forever and the NCR would find them soon anyway. He wants to be in the NCR's good graces rather than their enemy. Gruthar casually mentions that his son, Goris had helped fight the Enclave when the Oil Rig was destroyed. This was more than enough to convince President Tandi to consider Gruthar's offer to join NCR. She tells Gruthar that she'll have her congress write up a treaty for the two of them and she'll have her Secret Service protect Gruthar as he makes his way to the NCR Hall of Congress.
A week later, Citizens living in NCR would walk outside to a surprising sight, a Deathclaw walking down the street guarded by several NCR Secret Service. Gruthar, protected by the NCR Secret Service, makes his way to the Hall of Congress to meet with NCR Leaders and sign the soon-to-be historic NCR-Deathclaw Treaty. Gurthar makes his way inside and takes his place next to Tandi. The Treaty is then produced.
Gruthar and his pack will be recognized as NCR Citizens and any hostility between the two would end. The Deathclaws would have to leave Vault 13, but the NCR would assist in building a new Town for them and help carry out any Deathclaw Eggs within the Vault. Tandi uses a pen to sign her part and Gruthar creatively uses one of his sharp nails he dipped in an Inkwell and uses it to sign his part. With that, the Intelligent Deathclaws are officially NCR Citizens. News of this historic moment is spread like wildfire.
Gruthar's Deathclaw Pack are happy to finally be able to leave Vault 13 and some NCR Troops help with handling their Eggs. A new Settlement is constructed for the Deathclaws and is named "Clawtown", the very first Deathclaw Settlement and Gruthar becomes Mayor of Clawtown. It features several homes for the Deathclaws and includes a School built by the Followers of the Apocalypse. Goris is honored with a Golden Broach, the highest Award a NCR Civilian can receive, for his help in defeating The Enclave. Goris goes on to be a revered, yet intimidating scholar in a Followers University. Over time, the Intelligent Deathclaws improve their vocabulary thanks to the School built by the Followers.
The Intelligent Deathclaws soon adopt more human-like behaviors, such as the other males being in relationships with the other females in the Pack as opposed to the Alpha Male having a harem of all females in the pack and socializing with one another. The Deathcalws become preferred hires for Guards, Soldier and Explorers and the NCR knows this well.
The Deathcalw's brutality and efficiency is really put to the test during the sacking of Navarro. Fueled by their hate for their creators, the Deathclaws ambush the base in the middle of the night and they make short work of any Enclave Remnants there. Their excellent low light vision and large nails make then excellent at stealth combat. Before sunrise, Navarro has fallen and now under NCR control.
With the Deathcalws on their side, NCR expansion into the surrounding areas, including the Mojave is done much simpler. Whenever a new pack of Deathclaws shows up, an Intelligent Male Deathclaw usually challenges and defeats their Alpha Male and pacifies them. Several more Deathclaw Settlements show up and before long, Intelligent Deathclaw populations dwarfs the wild Deathclaw population. Some Deathclaws even join NCR Military and make effective soldiers.
Fast forward to 2277 and the Mojave Campaign has proved to be a vast success thanks to the assistance of Deathclaws in the NCR Military. While securing Hoover Dam, an unexpected enemy attacks. The NCR holds them off for long, but eventually retreat into Boulder City with Caesar's Legion hot on their trail. However, this was a ruse and when the signal was given, several NCR Deathclaws come out of the alleyways and using their powerful claws, make short work of the Legion. Boulder City turns red and it's not just from Legion Uniforms. Hoover Dam and Boulder City is saved from the Legion... for now.
The NCR-Intelligent Deathclaw relationship proves to have been very beneficial to both parties. Caravan Routes and roads have been much safer with at least one Deathclaw guarding it and no Raider is insane or stupid enough to attack a Caravan guarded by a couple of Deathclaws. NCR Deathcalw Veterans become the stuff of nightmares to any enemy of the NCR. If you thought a NCR Ranger Veteran was terrifying, just wait until you see a Deathclaw in a custom version of the iconic uniform. Raider Gangs don't even have time to scream before they're cut down. By 2281, The Mojave becomes the 6th State of the NCR and it's not long before they expand into Arizona, Utah and Idaho, with the Intelligent Deathclaws lending a helping claw.

My father although a good father, sexually abused me without him knowing. He taught me masturbation by grinding my penis in like any hard surfaces on a missionary position and he did that multiple times. In his point of view, he was actually making me a man by teaching me”sex” that young. I was like maybe 3-6 year old then and he is thinking it’s just funny and he is making jokes about it. telling it to family and friends and they are just all laughing about it. Little did he know, that his action open my innocence to sexual gratification very early on. I was exposed to some very sensual tv show growing up. Like every night, the whole family is watching this Mexican soap operas that has a lot of torrid kissing and bed scenes. I easily get an arousal very, very young. ( I theorize that it was a major effects of what my father had taught me.) and I started masturbating on the same weird missionary position (grinding my penis on hard surfaces like floor or bed till I ejaculate.) and up to these days that’s how I masturbate/pleasure myself. I feel like I am doing that weekly at that time. and I was caught multiple times by my mother, my sister, and my whole family and they are all laughing, mocking and even impersonating on how I do it. one scene stood-out to me when my aunt saw me doing it and she tells the whole family and neighborhood about it. I was so ashamed to death. I remember how she always make jokes about it in front of my family and many other people whenever she saw me and had the opportunity to do so. In it effects it was ingrained in my mind that anything sexual or sensual was a very, very dirty acts. adding to that ( I must say, the final nail in the coffin.) was an incident when I was a child, playing outside. I was peeing and the zipper of my short was stuck on the foreskin of my penis. I can’t remove it and I badly need to ask for help. my playmates was laughing hysterically when they saw my private parts stuck in that zipper. they call my aunts, uncles and my mother If I remember it correctly , because I started crying. one of my uncle got some cooking oil and he smears that in there until it was removed. ( of course, they are all watching while laughing hysterically and I was so humiliated and embarrassed to death.) following days about the incident was immense taunting and bullying that scars my heart forever. they still make jokes about it till these days which I found very disrespectful and that is one of the most traumatizing events that leads in me hating my private parts, naked body and the act of sex in general. I didn’t study psychology or anything on that regards, but according to my personal research I developed a strong Body Dysmorphia which is a mental illness involving obsessive focus on a perceived flaw or appearance. it ruins my entire life because I just can’t be intimate with anyone. I felt so unworthy of intimacy or any kind of romantic relationships. so whenever people tried to enter that sphere I kinda pushed them away immediately. A particular scene stood-out me, this person that I really like tried to be intimate with me. and as he started caressing my body I just stopped him! even though I really, really like it. I just felt that my body and my private parts was so unworthy for him to see. like for me, my intimate parts just looks really, really horrible for my liking it just looks really normal I think. but my body dysmorphia tells me otherwise. I really, really wanted to be get helped in this area. Should I consult a sex therapist? What you guys think? Thank you so much in advance. Im turning 33and I just come to terms with it at this age.😭

So last night at around 11:30 I (22M) decided to head out to my car to grab something. What are the odds that at the exact time a Blonde Lab approached me. Unsure what to do I ran inside and got some bread to avoid it running away. I borrowed a crate from a neighbor and left it in my bathroom with a towel, some dog food, and a toy over night.
In the morning I took it outside and it was clearly potty trained, aswell as super friendly and energetic. I tried to keep it in the kitchen/bathroom but it eventually ran up and jumped and layed on me on the couch. This dog is nothing but a ball of love and I had to get it back to it's owner.
I took it to the local vet and they found a chip in it, the chip belonged to the previous owner who had to give it to their neighbor due to allergies. The dog looked well fed but had long nails, and it's rear dewclaws were curling in on themselves (the vet snipped them for me).
When I arrived at the owners house he was very awkward, he said thank you and then proceeded to ask if I had a home for it, aswell as how I found him. The way he spoke it made me suspect that he let it go intentionally.
I texted him I would to everything i can to try and find a home, and that I would be by to pick her up tomorrow.
I just moved into my first place a few months ago, I always had dogs growing up, and I absolutely love them to death. We always had dobermans, but my parents currently have a great Pyrenees that sheds everywhere. Now I know a lab doesn't shed as much, but in the short time she was over here the hair was stressing me out. What is the best way to manage hair?
I want to do everything in my power to make this dog happy, but I'm seriously stressing trying to figure out what to do. Please help!!!

Hi lovely folks,
I'm a game designer from Italy (sorry in advance for my grammar, english is not my first language) and I'm making a tabletop roleplaying game of my own. You may have heard of Dungeons and Dragons, Pathfinder and that kind of stuff. I'm into that! ^^
​
Sorry in advance, truly, if I say something insensitive. Despite my best effort to understand, I'm unfortunately still not well informed about gender-matters. I'm trying my best and I'm here because I care about it. Any help would be much appreciated.
Regarding me, I think I'm a cisgender man, despite not exactly fitting in the classical views of masculinity (I'm short and thin, I wear makeup, I paint my nails, I like aesthetic stuff "bowie goblin king" style, I'm sensible and empathetic...), but I don't know exactly. I'm still figuring some stuff out.
Here in Italy there are nonbinary people, but the culture and knowledge around the matter is not as developed as in other countries, like Usa.
Still, the awareness about the subject is growing and I'm very happy about it.
​
I'm here because, in the world I'm writing, I have a playable species of snake humanoids, the "Mystics" or "Mysticals" ("Mistici" in Italian). They are "Ancient Egypt inspired" and are particularly connected with some esoteric/occultist stuff present in the game. They are the most "paranormal/magical/arcane species" of the game, to be brief.
Avoiding long details on mechanics, when you make a character and choose their species, you can choose some traits from their species list. A trait gives you two things:
- A "keyword" that helps you in certain situations.
- A particular effect.
I have a trait in mind that I really like, that I know for sure I would like to have in real life, but I want to make sure the way it is portrayed is correct from a sensibility standpoint.
The trait is called "Fluid Dimorphism". Mystics with this trait can change the sexual characteristics of their bodies during sleep, obtaining whatever combination they want when they wake up. Full feminine, full masculine, a bit of both, large or small hips, large or small chest (they don't exactly have breast, they are reptiles), a penis oand a vagina... whatever you want you can have it!
​
This trait would appear somewhat like this in the future manual:
- Fluid Dimorphism

• Description*: Some Mystics have the ability to modify their bodies' sexual characteristics in their sleep. They can choose from a vast range of female and male physical traits and can combine them as they like to achieve the form they desire.*
• Keyword: ???
• Ability: When you sleep, you can change the sexual characteristics of your body as you wish and wake up with the form you thought of.

​
To better contextualize: in the game's world there is no discrimination against nonbinary, trans or, in general, lgbtq+ people. There are other prejudices around, but sexual orientation and gender identities do not matter. It's a kinder world about this subject.
​
The point is... I'm not sure about the keyword. The trait MUST help the character in some situation with a specific mechanical advantage, not just giving an ability.
I thought about something, but I don't know if it's ok and I wanted your opinion: "Fluid Charm".
I thought that they could have a bonus in social interactions because they "fascinate people". Not necessarily on a sexual/flirting level when they seduce someone, I mean "fascinate" in general. But yeah, if they want, they can also use the keyword to help them seduce people.
And I don't know if this is ok... I'm unfortunately unable to be sure about this by my own, with my own sensitivity. I don't know if this is somewhat wrongly sexualizing the concept of gender fluidity and/or sex transitioning or if it's celebrating it (which is my goal).
​
What do you think about it? Is "Fluid Charm" a good positive keyword? Is the idea positive towards nonbinary folks and, in general, from a gender sensitivity standpoint? If it's not, do you have some insights you can offer me or suggestions about variations in the trait itself?
​
I thank you all for the time, ear and patience you are offering me.
With the best intentions, a kind hug from Italy!

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Probably an uncommon take but I feel like the core game of rimworld is hot garbage - not because the content is bad, but because the mechanics are bad.
The combat is simple and unfun: You put your guys in their positions and the enemy puts their guys in their positions and then you shoot at eachother until one of you is dead - You're punished for moving (Which makes sense but is unfun) because then you get shot to shit because you're out of cover. The set up for combat is entertaining (The planning and designing of your defences) but once that's done it's over.
Colonists are pre-sentient because you are meant to micromanage the shit out of them with zones and drafts; they have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.
The story-tellers are kinda retarded - Normal ass classic storyteller sending multiple seperate packs of manhunting animals at the same time is absurd.
The idea that random bits of steel from destroyed objects spike my wealth is also ridiculous and makes mountain bases far more of a liability than they should be. Uniquely infestations are usually not much of a problem for me but I do use both Windows and now Run and Gun - both of which heavily lessen the threat of melee enemies. This doesn't personally bother me. It's not the dificulty that I have a problem with it's how stale combat is without modded mechanics.
I've mentioned in a previous post how stupid raiders are: They just burn shit and cook themselves instead of taking the things they should.
A lot of stuff is inaccessible to you without grabbing a lottery ticket: Components and Plasteel are huge bottlenecks that require you to go out and find a place that sells them and there's no guarantee that you'll have one nearby. This wouldn't matter if moving around the world-map wasn't as uninteresting as it is. I had a run where I just made a bunch of food and then watched as my caravan walked its ass over to the crashed ship - no interaction whatsoever required and even if I was attacked it'd be another sit behind some rocks and wait style combat.
Maybe I've just been ruined by other games but after getting Sidearms/Run and Gun/Giddy Up/Psycasts Extended and seeing just how much better the base game is with a little bit more interactivity I just feel like mods are a REQUIREMENT to enjoy Rimworld.
I know there are people who like it vanilla (Which runs completely contradictory to my core point) but I feel like those people are far and few between. Maybe I'm just missing something and all of this is completely wrong.
I've got 2000 Hours in this game so Clearly these issues haven't exactly been a nail in the coffin but I find that they come up a lot.
Little things like doctors going half a mile to grab medicine, Caravans taking a million years to setup because some guy decided to go to sleep even though everyone is ready to go, Pawns targeting enemies a million miles away instead of the guy charging at them with a spear or the absolutely absurd accuracy calculations really mess me up when they happen.
Is the average person really that bad at aiming that with an LMG they miss every single shot against a lion?

(This is a long and deep read fair warning) A lot of people hear rawrs and blehs and think “oh that’s just heavy nonsense”. But god damn bmth are lyrical geniuses and their words do more for some people than therapy ever could.
I had been listening to sempiternal since it came out without realizing what it was really about. In 2019 I became addicted to ketamine, and until 2022 I would try to quit, fail, try again, and fail. I was in so many toxic relationships and what I thought was the nail on the coffin was when I got cancer. Early 2022 I’m locked in my room, wondering what the hell is wrong with me and debating ending it all, thinking there is no hope. Sleepwalking is on. I hear the words “fell into another hole again” and think “hold up he might be talking about a k-hole”, decide to look up the lyrics, and listen to the song while reading the lyrics, and realize that the song is about exactly what I was going through. Then it turns out that whole album is almost word for word everything I was experiencing. It did for me what no therapy, friend, or partner had done and I never did ketamine again after hearing that.
That brings me to my next example, cancer. They never thought I would die because I caught it early, but the chemo and everything else made me wish I could just die. I was dating someone who I chose to see only good in but was a disgusting woman inside, and the fact I was addicted to ketamine for the better part of having cancer and for that whole relationship didn’t exactly make me think clearly. Before I beat ketamine all I would listen to was their heavy shit. After I beat ketamine I cut that girl off but the lingering depression and feeling of impending inevitable doom was still inescapable. I decided to give that’s the spirit a run and even though it wasn’t as relatable to what I was dealing with as sempiternal was to a ketamine addiction, certain lines like “so leave a light on, I’m coming home, it’s getting darker but I’ll carry on” and “when it rains it fucking pours but I think I like it”, pretty much all of avalanche, pretty much all of drown, and even though I don’t like the song that much, pretty much all of throne helped me start moving towards recovery mentally. Within a month or 2 after that my thought process was completely turned around and and I beat cancer for good a couple months after that.
Now the big lingering problem behind all that was extreme alcoholism, no matter how many times I tried going sober I never stayed that way. I knew it was impossible for someone like me to completely stop drinking and partying, but I thought it was either an all in or all out thing, so that’s what I kept trying to do. Eventually songs like “oh no” and others about abusing it made me realize it’s not a party if it happens every night, and other things in life made me realize drinking and partying are not evil, but if you drink and party for no celebratory cause all the time it’ll lead to something evil. Now I’ve learned balance. Typically I’ll drink once a week or 2, if it’s something like my birthday I’ll go on a 3 day bender then take a month or so off drinking. At first it was because of the rules I made for myself, but now it’s because that’s what I want to do. Since I stopped drinking all the time I’ve become so much healthier mentally and I’ve become a productive person instead of a degenerate.
If you have a friend going through any of the things I listed and nothing is working for them try getting them to listen to the things I listened to. Bmth isn’t just music if you listen to them in the right way.
Also I doubt you’ll see this but oli I owe you my life, I know half your fan base says “oli saved me!!!” and that it’s a typical scene thing to say, but seriously you did save me. No matter what genre this band is doing and no matter what path they take bmth will always have a special place in my heart.

I'm a 28F currently dealing with a revenge obsessed ex-boyfriend (36M) who has been stalking me online for at least 2 years now and is hell bent on destroying my life. Basically I was his first GF in 7 years at the time and prior to the girl before me who cheated on him he claimed he never had a GF except girls who thought he looked like Harry Potter in middle school. He is 36 and doesn't have a lot of experience with women so the break up is apparently still difficult for him to process even though its 3 years later and we have not spoken except me asking him profusely to stop doing this stuff.
At the time we were dating a few years ago I was dealing with some identity issues during our relationship which I was honest with him about, (identified as bisexual at the time, but was questioning my sexuality). We had some disagreements about it and he would always ask why he couldn't stay over early on in the relationship (~1 month into it). I ended up breaking things off with him after roughly 4 months because I felt like we weren't compatible and also because I had lost my job at the time and was dealing with personal issues on the side (severely depressed, was in therapy for it).
We were friends for a short time after the breakup until things started getting VERY weird. He began circling the road next to my apartment several times per hour EVERY DAY. At the time I considered it strange but had a limited knowledge of technology other than basic CS classes I had taken in the past. The internet would randomly shut off for 30 mins - 1 hour for no reason. I would later find out in the logs the router was being hit with DOS attacks several times per day.
I would also see my documents on Google Drive opened by strange usernames of fake accounts, and eventually had a remote access trojan on my laptop after he sent me photos of us through Google Photos which I suspect he used to infect my computer. He would backspace while I typed, open and close windows, click random things on the screen, and straight up mess with me for several hours per day every day for MONTHS.
Then eventually the computer crashed and would never start again. It was a $1500 Macbook Pro. My new car also mysteriously got something poured in the fuel tank and after a few weeks and several hundreds of dollars of new parts no mechanic could fix the car. My apartment was broken into repeatedly with subtle signs of forced entry but nothing stolen. Examples: Pry marks on the inside of the front door, side door and back door, personal care items like body wash, underwear or bras stolen or moved, coming home to find personal documents like medical records, tax records, and bank info layed out on my bedroom floor shuffled around. I filed police reports each time it happened but couldn't prove it was him.
My car has also been broken into a few times now with my dashcam broken off the mount, hidden under the passenger seat, stick figures taking a dump drawn on my windshield, and nails in my back tire and spare tire. I believe he put a GPS tracker on the car because I have heard someone outside opening and closing the car door but nothing was stolen. So far no mechanic has been able to find a tracker and I couldn't either.
I had to stop using the wifi at my apartment because every device I use on that network gets hacked (multiple different laptops, 2 kindles, and 3 cell phones). I found a keylogger on my M1 Macbook Pro (~$2000) which he also placed persistent malware on and I can not get rid of despite wiping the hard drive 8 times since this January. He defaced my professional website I was trying to use to get a job twice (first time put a pic of nude child and set his hacker username as my bank account number, added a redirect link which I stupidly clicked on and then it downloaded some sort of spyware or RAT onto my device, 2nd time he put up 2 women doing the deed also nude).
He has had remote access to this computer for an unknown amount of time and I can not afford to replace it. My cell phone also booted up into safe mode the next morning and the background was changed on my work/school email account. I tried taking my computer to a repair shop and they claimed if he does have a RAT on it, it is likely hidden on the recovery partition and they weren't able to find it or get it off my computer. This is a $2000 M1 Mac and he already destroyed my previous Macbook Pro which cost me $1500.
I also had to buy a new cell phone after I kept getting creepy phone calls and phishing texts from unknown numbers. When he put the new keylogger on my computer recently I saw where he made a folder which he named the digits of my new phone number. I had just bought a brand new Samsung Galaxy and he already got the new phone number for it and hacked it. He kept enabled the camera and microphone and while I was eating turned on the camera and started recorded me while I was eating. I factory reset the phone and he was still able to control the camera and mic on it.
I have reported him to the FBI IC3 unit 6 times now in the last year and now he is getting cocky about it and knows he will get away with it so he keeps doing it. He knows I am broke with no money and can't afford a new computer, to move away, or to keep buying a new cell phone every month and he seems to get off on trying to destroy my whole life. I have not spoken to him in 3 years now and we do not talk at all. I sent him a FB message telling him to stop explaining to him I have been going through a lot since my sister died a few years ago and just want to be left alone. He keeps doing it and won't stop.
He also recruited my crush who I never mentioned to him to help him with the hacking (my crush is a system admin) and now my crush won't speak to me at all and hates my guts. I have no idea what he said to my crush or how he got them to come after me but they have been going full on nuclear and won't stop. I caught him staking me out a few days ago at the gas station across from a wifi hotspot I was using where he was just sitting there for an extended period of time watching me. Then when I started drive near him he inched his truck like he was thinking about if he was going to follow me or not. He also knows when I come and go at night and drives by my apartment minutes after I get home at different times.
This guy seems to think I owe him something and has a serious problem. He just keeps doing all this and will not stop. While I am not the type of person to do anything crazy back, the police have done nothing and in terms of the hacking there is not a lot they can do. What can I do to at least expose this guy. I don't think he is ever going to stop until he kills me and this has got to stop.

hey everyone, this post might be a little bit long but its a subject that I always wanted to talk about which is the tragedy of authority users and how is this connected to our main character Natsuki subaru struggles
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first of all lets dive in the lives of other authority users namely the witches of sins, every single one of these witches gets their power to grant them a wish, something that present their deepest desires and dreams only for this same wish to turn into in endless nightmare's that only them can experience
and as if fate is actually mocking them the witches becomes the same thing they detest in this world, leading them to a path of pain and destruction, and I'm gonna rent about them a little to show my point.
starting with the witch of wrath Minerva who detested pain and suffering and most of all the endless conflict between humans named " war ", Minerva was always crying and weeping because of these tragedies that involved in front of her, however this wasn't enough, no matter how much she cried over the fallen they will never come back, no matter how many time she pledged for humans to stop war they never listened, over and over again Minerva continue to see people hurt and in pain seeking in answer Minerva finally found salvation in the form of a witch factor
the witch factor guided the witch of wrath to release her dearest wishes which is to save others, she's finally capable of ending this deadly war right ? unfortunately this wasn't the case, because the price for saving all these people were the death of others, the witch of wrath became the source of pain and suffering for thousands of people ironically became the one thing she detested the most, and even then Minerva the witch of wrath continue with her false salvation never looking back again.
the witch of pride typhon, the child who learned the important of punishment's before learning the important of life wondered day and night for in answer for her question " what makes a sinner a sinner? and how should I determine that? " until one day she received the witch factor, like a blessing from the heavens typhon finally reached her answers, the answer is in the heart of the sinner, if a person believed themselves to be a sinner then they will be punished accurately
to continue her mission typhon decided to be the one who pass judgment upon others not knowing that she become the greatest sinner, she become the witch who pears the sin of pride, the father of all sins making her the greatest sinner of them all
the witch of lust, who believed in love and its own strength and that love should always be rewarded with love, was once a girl who dreamt of a perfect fairy tale with the love of her life, turned into a witch who demand that love and oppose it on others going against what love stand for, Carmela the witch of lust forced what she thought was love even though it was just her twisted view on love, a selfish disgusting forced love, while keeping herself away from anyone so she will never suffer the groans of love ever again
or the witch of greed echidna who was once in innocents girl who only wanted to help others and make them happy, she saw that the world was full of tragedies and that by using her own authority one day she will reach every tear, if she never give up she will help everyone on this sad world, every mistake every tragedy was necessary for her desirable future, the witch of greed becomes corrupter with this same desires and tragically become the source of other people suffering.
or maybe the witch of gluttony who becomes corrupted due to her soul that is empty, seeking nothing but food to satisfy her emptiness, the witch who in my opinion has the most tragic life out of all the witches, a victim who unwillingly was trapped in endless pain she didn't even chose, Daphne didn't seek anything from the witch factor at that point, before her transformation she was normal girl, unlike other witches Daphne salvation was nothing but tragedy that involved before the witch factor even chose her
and last but not least the witch of sloth whos simply wanted to rest, however she never let people rest of her power that crushes anything and everyone, she accompany typhon in hope she will stop typhon rampage only for it to be a bigger mess, Sekhmet the witch who surrender for her never ending sloth and let the witch factor eats her soul and feed on her sloth
now what all of this have to do with Subaru? the answer is actually quite easy, Subaru even though his a human "something no one can deny" Subaru is still in Authority user, just like how Authorities start to feed on the witches sins corrupting's them and shape them to be the monsters we know, Subaru Authority do exactly that too
at the beginning you might never notice it, RBD is effecting Subaru mentally and physically, Subaru also shows sighns of not being able to bear with this new founding power, but little by little Subaru started to change, his ideology and believes plus his determation was being tested over and over again sharpening his resolve
Subaru want to save others, in arc 8 Subaru told Vincent that he understand that he cant save everyone so what some other fans are arguing about sometimes is not the problem, Subaru will never sacrifice someone in the name of greatest good, sorry but this will never happened, Natsuki Subaru just like any other witches is forcing himself or rather is creating a hell for himself where he will reach his desires
he will lose some people, he cant save everyone he understand that however to save those who he swear to save Subaru will put himself in hell for that, it will be easier if he just stopped doing that, it will be merciful on his soul to let go, however unfortunately this is not how Subaru or other witches thinks
chapter 75 was the nail in the coffin for me, it was the absolute prove that Subaru will do the impossible to reach a satisfying outcome, its not necessary for you to be his friends, it doesn't matter if you were his immoral enemy or even someone he despise, he will put himself in hell so he will safe you and feel satisfied, just like other witches who has been granted a salvation that only made things more painful for them yet they will never give up on it because moving forward id the only ting they know Natsuki Subaru salvation was nothing but the hell he will continue to create for himself seeking salvation and a hope of a happy ending that he doesn't know if it even exist, the perfect world that is build upon death and suffering, a reality that he is satisfied with even if it was built on his sorrow
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Werecrow
Buried not within the ground, And on this plain cannot be found, This place, not down on any map, In tragic depths still yet to tap. With sunless sea surrounding only, And no clouds to wander lonely, Gone gentle into that good night, This chamber made of candlelight.
No stream nor flux within this cell, Unbroken edge where shadows dwell. No confluence of knowledge known, Of light of void between the stone. One single speck amongst the nought, A form that purely solace wrought. All ensnared in isolation, Without repose or consolation.
Within this room, sans fenestra, A mass of plume there does sequester, One pallid creature, raven-esque, Perched upon a writing desk, Clutching tightly to its frame, So unitely, one the same, Splinters pin the leather hide, Where scale and feather coincide.
With heaving body in unbalance, Claw-carved marks of desperate talons, Cracks along its neb and crest, With wax upon its ebon breast. Distal eyes reflect the mind, Crystalised neglect, purblind. State unkempt from helm to nail, Hate, contempt, bound to this jail.
Petrified by walls imposing, A dam of fast bookfell enclosing, So firmly scrolled the parchments link, This dismal pulp expels its ink. And still this creature, hate and venom. Thinks, that yet, within this plenum, There can be respite from this plight, So plucks a quill and starts to write.
The sight its squinting eyes allow, Vignetted by its cheek and brow, Coveting a barren leaf, Descries abatement of its grief. The blackened nib begins to scrawl, With haste delivered by its thrall. Soon, once rived to shard and shiver, It reaches anew into its quiver.
Presently, the sheet grows laden, Reveries of lad and maiden, Quaint accounts of tale and fable, Ardour swelling from the sable. Tales abound with celebration, Surrendered by abject ablation. Stories thought but never sighted, More fancy than can be requited.
And as its ruff begins to falter, Its core and countenance does alter. With every serif, jot and tittle, The penna starts to carve and whittle. Cold marble turns to gallant figure, From deathly state comes poise and vigour. Draped in grace and donned in garb, An ornament forged by the barb.
Now mounted on this downy plinth, Is, by all accounts, a prince, Standing proud in all his glory, Contented by his fictive story. A fashion formed from pure romance, Informs his current circumstance. Commanding all himself to savour, These short moments soon to waver.
And soon enough, once time sets in, A plume does crawl from out his skin. Finding archive for his figment, His skin and lustre lose their pigment. As walls grow closer, cloth is shed, Spirit waned, it lays its head. Sorrow deepened, eyes turned grey, How long can one soul live this way?

Has anybody ever gotten over that intense anxiety you get when you’re expected to meet up and socialise with people? It’s so overwhelming for me, I don’t enjoy it and never did (apart from a short phase in my late teens when I was able to drink but now alcohol doesn’t appeal to me) and I really struggle to connect with people. I fantasise everyday about everyone in my personal life just disappearing and not speaking to me again.
I struggle with eye contact, I struggle with my self esteem and assume anytime I get invited anywhere it’s a pity thing because I don’t think I’m fun to hang around with. I’m not funny, I don’t think I add anything to a conversation, I’m too scared to speak if more then one person is listening at once, I feel less because I’m fatter than my friends and most my family, I worry I look stupid or weird or dumb or ugly. I worry I’m not acting right and I worry someone will think in rude or awkward or ask what’s wrong and then I’m worried I’ll cry and make an ass of myself.
My mother is a great lady to me now, mostly. But as a kid she was violent, she didn’t show my any love or ever look after me. I remember my hair was matted, I remember only sitting in my room alone, I have no memories with her other than her hitting me for acting like a kid. I’m scared as an adult to set boundaries or tell people if I’m upset, I’ve never done that or been in an argument in my life.
After a traumatic event and some tension between me and my mum it’s just reopened so many old wounds and I suddenly remembered all this stuff about my childhood, all the slaps, the lack of love, my matted hair and over grown nails, the lack of care about my school work or hobbies or anything. I dunno, I just don’t feel up for socialising but I’m made out to be a bad person for it. But if I do go and I disassociate then I also get shit. I dunno man, I can’t fake happy anymore all my masks have been broken