In my head bedroom guitar tabs

My name is Evaline and my sister who is vital to this as well is named Vivian and we are twins aged twenty-three. Yesterday we went on a graveyard investigation, and I don't think we came back alone.
We pulled up to the graveyard In Vivians beat up red bug. She shut off the car and looked over to me.
“I have a weird feeling, Evaline, are you sure you want to do this?” asked Vivian.
“Oh yeah everyone keeps telling me about this place!” I exclaimed.
As we exited the car and walked up to the property Vivian turned on the ghost box (A tool used for communicating with ghosts by scanning through radio frequencies and white noise).
The ghost box said one word very abruptly “STOP.”
We looked at each other with puzzled faces.
“Do you not want us here?” asked Vivian.
“STOP.’ Came through the ghost box again.
“Uh color me crazy but I think we should still go in.” I said.
Vivian looked at me for a moment and then agreed we heard one final “STOP.” as we entered and then it was dead silent for 15 minutes.
We were walking around when my sister Vivian stopped and looked at a specific tree. This tree is twisted looking literally it has two parts to it that twist together to make sort of an arch way.
“A woman is over there.” Vivian whispered and pointed towards the tree (Vivian Is a medium by the way)
“Well let’s go check It out.” I enthusiastically said.
As we reached the tree the ghost box said the name “ANNIE.”
Vivian Greeted Annie and asked her why she was there.
But I was more Interested In trying to find Annie’s headstone.
“Hey, ask her for her last name!” I shouted over to Vivian who gave me a thumbs up.
I walked further away scanning all the different headstones with my flashlight. Some of these guys are really old, like 17th century old.
“Maybe that’s why it’s so haunted.” I thought to myself.
As I looked up to scan the next headstone, I saw a figure of a man standing by a headstone. “Holy shit where'd he come from?” I thought “Hey Vivian do you see hi-” I cut off because when I pointed back to where I saw him no one was there.
“Okaayyy.” I said in a hushed tone “I’m just going to go walk over there and see what the headstone says.” I made my way over to the headstone.
“Oh no way Vivian come over here, look who I found!” I shouted
“What’s up, what'd you find?” Vivian asked excitedly.
She looked down as I shined my flashlight on the fading stone the words “Annie Forester Beloved Mother and Wife” were shown.
“ME.” Said the ghost box We both looked at each other. We normally don’t get very intelligent responses so this was a big deal.
“What happened to you Annie?” I asked “HUNG.”
“Oh Jesus, that took a dark turn.” I said
“Evaline, stop it.” Vivan shouted, "Can you tell us why?” she asked,
“WITCH.”
“Oh she must have been a part of the old witch hunts that happened all through England and Ireland.” Vivian said
“Yeah but why are you still here Annie?” I asked Nothing happened for a good five minutes before the response
“TO PROTECT” came through.
“Protect what Annie?” I asked another few minutes pass by before the ghost box says “THE LAND”
“Huh that's awfully sweet of you do you make sure the living are safe?” Asked Vivian
“YES” the ghost box replied almost Immediately
“LEAVE” It says.
“Why do you want us to leave?” I asked
“Yeah what's wrong Annie?” Asked Vivian
“HIM”
“Who is him?” Asked Vivian
“PLEASE GO”
Those were the last words the ghost box said for another twenty minutes
“Maybe we should go, it's been a while and we haven't gotten anything else.” Said Vivian
I Looked around the graveyard I had a bad feeling
“Yeah lets get outta here this place is starting to creep me out.” I said as I stood and shook myself off trying to get rid of the odd energy.
We packed up all of our things and headed to the entrance. We said a prayer so nothing negative would follow us and threw our bags in the trunk. As I opened the door I slumped down In the passenger seat.
“Phew.” I breathed
“We got some pretty good stuff from Annie. I just wanna know who the mysterious him is.” Giggled Vivian
The drive home was uneventful but I couldn’t shake that odd energy from my body.
“Hey Viv do you feel weird or is that just a me thing?” I asked looking over at Vivian
“Mmm yeah ever since we left I felt odd, hopefully it's just our nerves.” Vivian said with a warm smile. But something was hidden behind the warmth of her smile : fear.
We pulled up to the house and unloaded our bags onto the kitchen table. It's become sort of a ritual at this point, every time we finish an investigation we unpack and load in all the recordings to listen to with high quality noise canceling headphones. We also order some kind of takeout tonight's meal of champions was Chinese food my favorite.
I stirred together my orange chicken and rice as I pawed through the recordings settling on the third one when Annie mentions “HIM”. The recording fills my ears as I intently listen.
“LEAVE.” Says the ghost box
“Why do you want us to leave?” you can hear us asking
“HIM” the ghost box says
“Who is him?” Vivian’s voice says
I listen closely as silence fills the space
“I'm Him.” A deep voice says not over the voice box but right next to the recorder.
I screamed and jumped out of my seat throwing the headphones on the ground.
“What what what!” Says Vivian
“Oh hell no, that sounded like satan.” I said laughing In disbelief
I rewinded the recording so Vivian could hear it. I saw her face turn into a huge grin.
“Now this is solid stuff we have to go back there!” Exclaimed Vivian
“Yeah I'm down but you're reviewing the tapes next time that voice is creepy.” I said with a smile
“Deal!” Said Vivian as she stuck her hand out for a hand shake. I took it and shook hands.
“I'm gonna get ready for bed Viv goodnight!” I yelled as I walked away
“Goodnight!” yelled Vivian
I stepped into the poorly lit bathroom and turned on the shower
“That voice is seriously creepy.” I muttered to myself as I took out my High ponytail and let my dark brown curls bounce down to my shoulders. My hair always did look nice with my pale skin
“Thanks to you mom.” I said looking up at the ceiling
I stepped into the shower and started washing my hair when I heard something fall.
I opened the shower curtain to see the culprit my cat Leo
“Oh Leo you're going to be the death of me.” I puffed out closing the shower curtain again
Another crash comes from outside the shower curtain
“Leo Get ou-” I ripped open the curtain to find the toilet paper holder in the sink
I stared dumbfounded as to how my small cat could have body builder lifted the toilet paper holder into the sink.
“VIIIIVIAN” I screamed
Heavy footsteps pound down the hallway but no Vivian
“Vivian?” I called
Pounding assaulted the walls to the point they were vibrating as the footsteps continued
“VIVIAN” I endlessly scream for what seems like hours until the door bursts open and the walls stop pounding immediately
“Are you okay, what's wrong, what's going on?” Exclaimed Vivian with a very worried look.
“You didn't hear me screaming for you?” I sobbed
“No, I just now heard you and came in. What happened?” asked Vivian
I told her all of the events that had just occurred she looked towards the sink and back to me with a confused face
“The toilet paper holder isn't in the sink Evaline.” She said pointing towards the sink which was in fact empty
“What no I swear it was!” I exclaimed
“I believe you Evaline you never cry it's just odd try and get some sleep okay maybe you're really tired? Cooed Vivian
“Yeah maybe” I said
I finished my shower without any problems and climbed into bed.Covering myself with the plushy blanket I let sleep take me over.
“Evaline wake up!” Vivian yell whispered as she shook me awake
“What's going on?” I groggily asked and then I heard it pounding on the walls but it was everywhere The walls were all slightly shaking
“Is this what happened in the bathroom?” Vivian asked me
“Yeah pretty much just not as loud.” I said standing up I'm gonna go check it out stay her Vivian
“You're that white girl that dies in the horror movie.” Vivian said with a smirk
I shook my head and stepped out into the hallway. Literally all of the walls seemed to be buzzing with the pounding. I made my way past the family portraits and got to the back door slowly putting my hand on the door knob and twisting it till I quickly pulled it open and the pounding stopped. I Looked around the dark backyard and I noticed something: the figure of a man standing by our fence. I looked closer trying to get a better look it was definitely a man.
I turned around to grab the bat sitting on our porch.
“Hey buddy you better beat it!” I yelled, turning back with bat in arm to see he was gone.
“Weird.” I thought and went back inside the house. I closed the back door and turned to walk back to Vivian when I saw the shadowy man standing right in front of me.
“AH-” I started to scream but the air seemed to be sucked from my lungs and the only thing that came out was a small peep.
“I don’t like you creatures.” The man said in a voice I can’t even begin to describe. It wasn't human.
“But still you exist to only displease me.” He went on
“Who are you?” I stammered
“You wouldn't know the word but you gave a soul hope tonight which made her free of me so now I need another soul in return for the one you greedily took.” The man like thing said
“Annie?” I asked shakily
He made an odd gurgling crunching noise reminiscent of a laugh but sounded more like a garbage disposal.
“Obviously” he replied
“Now you're going to replace that soul.” He said calmly
“Evaline?” Vivian placed her hand on my shoulder
“Evaline Are you there helloooo?” Vivan said snapping her fingers in front of my eyes
“Yeah sorry Viv I just was thinking.” I replied
Now i'm writing this to you hoping someone out there knows what this thing is and how to get rid of it before I become the next soul to be taken by HIM.

-Red-
April 19th, 11:13 A.M., The Sprawl
I sparked a dilapidated Vita-Cig that I’d snagged from Trodes and peered out into the Sprawl; the careful equilibrium of a well-orchestrated black-market had returned; pushers and gangers lined the alleys, watching for signals from rooftop lookouts to avoid the single Peacewatch cruiser that had been stupid enough to enter the dockside. The poor bastard would be dead before the afternoon was over… not that I had much sympathy for his kind. Peacewatch made it a habit to stay out of the Sprawl: unless the Eggheads predictive crime system said something catastrophic was coming, they policed their kind and left us in the hands of the mob. I’d never iced an officer. Not yet at least.
“Your partner should be ready shortly, I think he’s just tying up a few loose ends,” Akari said, snatching the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag.
“Remind me again why you think I should take the shrimp with me instead of Nico and Roman?”
“He’s smart… and the other two are working on something else. Besides-- you need brains on this one, Red, not muscle,” she giggled, passing the cigarette back.
“Whatever you say,” I paused, grabbing the smoke, “what do you have them up to?”
“There’s a shipment of Xeno-grade weapons coming down from the colonies. Nico and Roman will be liberating them from the Slicers. Or, their share, at least. It won’t be much, maybe a dozen guns, but it’ll be worth it: the force field tech alone will pay for the trip as soon as Fincetti’s goons start trying to take your heads off with plasma cannons and mono blades.”
“What do you mean, their share?”
“The job was too big for us to take on alone. I linked up with another enterprising group of Freelancers. If it goes well, maybe we can hire them on for the heist, we’re going to need more people if we want to walk out of there alive.”
We?
“What, are you planning on coming along now?” I asked, snuffing out the smoke.
“It only seems right; Trodes is coming along, and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. Besides, you have a dangerous habit of getting shot, and I can’t have you going down in the field,” she said, winking as if to punctuate the sentence.
“You sure? We can manage, you don’t have to come with us, you’ve done so much already.”
“I know I have, that’s why I have to protect my investment. If you go down out there, then the team is without a leader. A military scale operation like this will go south real fast without someone competent in command.”
“You’ve got me wrong, Akari: I’m no leader. I’m just someone who wants to live in a better city and doesn’t mind taking the trash out himself. Besides, why do we need a leader? We’re all competent adults acting in concert, of our own free will. We all know what we’re doing, if a situation arises and someone needs to take charge, it’ll happen.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in a crew you just met,” Akari said with a sneer.
“You know why I asked you to put the team together, Akari?”
“Because there’s a bounty on your head that could finance twenty retirements, and you know you can trust me?”
“No, well yeah, but that’s beside the point—I asked you because you’re not a Fixer, you’re a part time street doc that works the front desk at the most popular Freelancer hotel in the Sprawl. If there’s anyone who knows who’s gonna get the job done, it’s you. See, a Fixer is going to be okay with whatever losses they deem acceptable beforehand, but they’re fine with keeping that to themselves. If you thought any of these mooks were going to crack under pressure, or do something stupid, you wouldn’t have set me up with them.”
Before she could respond, Trodes emerged from the stairs leading to the lab. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, shrugging on the hood of the oversized sweatshirt that blanketed his meek frame. Glimpses of pain showed through every tremor laden step he took. A cloak of wires enveloped his skull, feeding into an old-world cyber console.
“It’s insufferably hot out here,” Trodes sighed.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far. Chances are that whatever hole we’re meeting BFU in will have air conditioning,” I responded, clicking my key fob, and signaling the bike to pull around.
Trodes face fell flat when the Supersonic rolled around the corner; apparently, the prestige of carving through the skyway on a state-of-the-art Taffington jet-bike was lost on him.
“Are we taking… that?” Trodes stammered.
“We are. Unless you’ve got a pair of wheels with two seats?” I asked, mounting the bike and revving the engine.
With an exasperated sigh, Trodes boarded the passenger seat. I could feel him behind me, vibrating as tremors gripped his body.
“You good, buddy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously, clenching the handrails with white knuckles.
Akari shook her head and headed back to the lab.
I heard Trodes mumble something under his breath, but it was quickly drowned out by the jet-bike’s purr. I carved into the skyway. Driving in the Sprawl was pure freedom: almost nobody owned vehicles with aerial capabilities in this part of town. It didn’t take long to reach top speed.
Slummers and gutterpunks walked the streets like zombies in a drug addled haze. The scent of gunpowder, pollution and burning ozone coalesced into a putrid stench that reeked of poverty and violence. Patches of azure moved in militant formation below; the Vorrath had taken to the streets. On a different day, a better day, I would’ve helped them. Most slummers hated the Offworlder Coalition, but not me—at the end of the day I always figured that I had more in common with poor people from another planet than rich people from another district of the city. At least we shared the same struggle.
The bike slowed to crawl; the Neo-Confederates were about, backed by a platoon of Brown-Shirts that looked like a tide of sewer run off, crashing through the streets with reckless abandon. Civilians fled for their homes. Fuck.
The jet-bike careened through the air before finally landing atop a building a few blocks away from the impending conflict.
“Get off,” I said, turning back to Trodes.
“Why? You don’t intend to abandon me at this altitude, do you?”
“Not as long as I survive—I’ll be quick, I just need to ventilate some Nazi fucks, understood?”
He shook his head and muttered a string of curses.
I tore through the air, circling around the impending conflict. I chased a handful of cheap amphetamines with a poorly rolled joint and swooped low, behind the rolling tide of brown shirts. This wasn’t the first time I’d made myself an enemy of the city’s Neo-Nazi’s; I’d killed at least a dozen of them in my career as a courier, but those were isolated incidents, back-alley brawls away from the mob.
This was a whole new ball game.
I fell slack as my Teleoperations module synchronized with the bike. My consciousness faded, reemerging into the HALO-Net’s stylized rendition of the bike’s interior. I wasn’t just the pilot now—I was the bike. Bullets carved twin streaks of crimson into the brown tide. It didn’t take long to hit top speed, 3.7 seconds, to be exact.
The group turned in nearly perfect unison, launching volley upon volley as I passed overhead. The bike’s shields barely held together; I felt every round, like a flock of birds violently slamming into my side—not enough to cause any real damage, but more than enough to get the blood pumping. I slid into an alley a few blocks off and waited for the shield generator to recharge. Gunshots rang out from the streets, alongside the sizzle of plasma meeting flesh. Soon the din was drowned beneath the roar of dozens of Vorrath war cries. I took to the sky.
Trodes was exactly where I left him, nervously clutching a knock off version of a Locust flechette pistol.
“I was beginning to doubt your survival,” Trodes said shakily.
“Wrong again, little guy,” I paused, reigniting a half smoked joint, “it was just a quick hit and run, we don’t have the time or the numbers for a pitched battle. Now, hop on.”
It didn’t take long to find BFU’s base of operations. Black flags and Anarchist graffiti covered the walls of the abandoned warehouse they’d apparently taken up residence in. A field of repurposed Peacewatch turrets were installed atop the roof, complimented by a web of cameras that spread across a three-block radius. Anarchists of all species and creeds loitered outside. The guards ranged from Cyborgs and Vat-Grown, to Vorrath and Vorstihl, each wearing a variant of the black flag with colors corresponding to their ideologies.
As I hovered above the building, I saw a familiar face: the rookie from earlier. Alarmingly, his cruiser was nowhere to be seen. His face was wrought with horror, as a pair of cyborgs led him inside the warehouse.
“They’re certainly less than subtle,” Trodes said.
“They don’t have to be subtle, they’re the biggest citizens political organization in the Sprawl. Peacewatch avoids them if they have anything less than a full platoon on hand,” I explained.
“Red… before we enter negotiations with these hooligans, I must inquire as to what your motivation hitting the vault is? Surely you know there’s a strong likelihood that you won’t make it out, and from what I’d heard about you, I always understood you to be a man who knew how to keep himself out of the line of sight of dangerous people,” Trodes said, nervously.
“Fincetti is the most dangerous man in the city, short of O’Bannon. He controls the black market with an iron fist and is instrumental in all the things I hate about living here. The problem is, I have no way to do anything about it right now… but there’s something big in the safe—there must be—for fucks sake, he iced his family over it. I’m hoping there’s something in there that can give me a little leverage, so I can cross him out afterwards.”
Trodes was silent for a moment, simply reaching as if to ask me to pass the joint. I obliged.
“I have my reasons to want O’Bannon dead too, I’m in,” he paused as a coughing fit seized him, causing the joint to fall to the ground, “there’s something you should know though: I’m working with an entity of great power in the Net; I don’t know what precisely it is, but I know it saved my life more than once. As a matter of fact, it’s the only reason I was able to obtain the blueprint of Fincetti’s bunker, and his security plan.”
“Is it… is it an unshackled AI?”
“Unlikely: it seems to understand compassion and empathy on a uniquely organic level, something that rarely slips past Netwatch.”
“Alright, well whatever it is, you keep an eye on it and let me know if things get shady. I appreciate you telling me.”
Trodes nodded in silence.
The crowd parted expectantly as I landed along the streetside. Dozens of eyes were immediately glued to Trodes and I. A cyborg with a steel double mohawk emerged from a sea of leather, patches, and smoke. A sawed-off shotgun hung at his side.
“Red, I presume?” the Cyborg asked, extending a steel hand.
“That’s right, and who’re you?” I answered, clasping the borgs hand as firm as I could manage.
“They call me Diezel, and I’ll be your host today,” he released my hand and looked me up and down as if assessing whether I was a threat, “follow me, everyone’s here so we can get straight down to business.”
The warehouse’s interior had been renovated drastically; layers of open-faced lofts sat stacked upon each other, consuming the walls. Nearly every non-violent law in the city was being broken in the lofts, from cooking chems and explosives to studying banned literature and Doomguard martial arts. It was beautiful. We followed Diezel through a winding hallway of munitions manufacturing stations, before finally emerging into an immense circular room, with rows of seats climbing the walls. I couldn’t believe it—there must have been two hundred people present.
The lights dimmed as we entered the arena. Diezel led us to the rooms center, ushering Trodes and I onto a great circular platform; he fell into place on a platform across from us, beside a Vat-Grown woman bearing an orange and black flag on her arm, and augmentations that cost more than my bike. Behind the duo a bulbous Vorstihl lurked; tentacles draped down his back, carefully pulled away from his cyclopean eye. A red and black flag was displayed on his arm… it was only then that I noticed the blue and black flag on Diezel’s arm.
The platforms each rose roughly fifteen feet into the air, before microphone stands emerged from the center of each platform. Diezel stepped forward, past the microphone.
“Before we start, I’ll explain how this works: the three of us are representatives of our specific unions—but the people are free to interject. One union voting to aid in your endeavors does not guarantee the help of the other two, as each union demands a perfect consensus. Likewise, if a faction without one union decides to help you, it does not necessarily mean you have the support of the entire union. The only way you’ll end up with total support is cross union consensus. Do you understand?”
A consensus: of course, they needed a damned consensus.
“I do,” I answered, speaking away from the microphone.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Diezel stepped back, finding his microphone before continuing, “Red, Trodes, welcome to the Bouleuterion,” he paused a moment as the crowd erupted into cheers, “beside me are my comrades Aria and Korvirex, and we stand ready to hear your proposal.”
“As most of you probably know, Don Fincetti is the most powerful man in the underworld, hell—maybe even the city—what you likely don’t know is that he has a vault beneath the city, guarded by an army of Harvesters. I intend to break into the vault, slaughter the Harvesters and strike a blow to Fincetti that he won’t forget… and I intend to kill him shortly after. What I ask is simple: you help me in what’s to come, and when he’s finally dead, you can all split his turf among yourselves. All I care about is making sure he doesn’t live long enough to poison the Sprawl more than he already has.”
A murmur emerged from the stands. I gazed across the way to see the three representatives huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Finally, Aria stepped towards her microphone.
“What you ask of us will likely mean the death of many of our people… we need something greater than what you offer—we need a guarantee of mutual aid—you have a reputation in the Sprawl, we would ask that you employ it in helping us when the time comes to resettle the Sprawl. Namely, we’d request your assistance against the gangs that may try to fill the power void you seek to create,” Aria explained.
“That seems reasonable,” I said.
Aria stepped back as Korvirex moved forward.
“Tell me, Red, are you familiar with the Offworlder Coalition?” Korvirex asked.
“I am—as a matter of fact, I aided them on the way here—they were marching against the Neo-Confederates and the Brown Shirts. I insured that they had the element of surprise.”
Korvirex stroked the beard-like tentacles that hung from his chin in contemplation.
“Good. What I ask is that you help us to secure their trust, we have offered solidarity where we could, but our forces are spread thin. The ideology of many of the exiled Vorrath rebels that found their way to Nova City—it matches that of our union. If our help was offered, would you agree to assist us in aiding the Coalition, so that they finally have an opportunity to get on their feet?”
Trodes leaned towards in, whispering in my ear.
“It would be prudent of you to make a counteroffer: proclaim that you’ll help with the Coalition, if they’ll spread the word to other groups whose goals may align with ours. There will likely be at least a couple hundred Harvesters in the Undercity when we strike… unless they’re occupied elsewhere.”
“I would happily help with the Coalition, on the condition that your faction spread the word about what we’re doing to like-minded organizations. As it stands, we could still use more numbers to match the Harvesters,” I said.
“These conditions may be satisfactory,” Korvirex said, before retreating into yet another group huddle.
The audience watched on in silence.
Finally, Diezel reapproached the microphone.
“The representatives have deemed this topic worthy of discussion: you’re free to leave, we’ll get ahold of Akari in a couple days, when all the details are ironed out.”
“A couple days?”
“Reaching a consensus can be a slow process at times—be prepared for a renegotiation of conditions, as there will likely be more stipulations made once the process is complete,” Diezel explained.
I nodded, and the platform beneath my feet began to descend towards the floor. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Hopefully Nico and Roman would beat us home.

I listen to rap a lot, so certain flows from certain songs tend to get stuck in my head and I repeat them over and over again
Mine is from Talib Kweli's Get By - "Even when the condition is critical, when the livin' is miserable Your position is pivotal I ain bullshittin' you now"

I can’t relax, I can’t sleep, I have a constant head ache. I’m so so so anxious about exams. Despite being predicted a 37 all of my exams happened 1-9 of May, so compressed and I was just super burnt out exhausted. I didn’t feel good about anything. Actually scared I will fail lit HL, or just not get into my uni. What can I do to not worry for one more month? There’s nothing I can do about it anyway and manifesting something negative won’t help.. What do you do to think in a positive way in the post-exam era?😍😍😍

I was on clozapine for two years and no one, not even my psychiatrist, warned me what it was like to come off of it. That seems unethical to me. Particularly because I didn’t respond well to it, like at all, and the side effects were the worst. So why is it that doctors feel it’s ethical to do that but unethical to prescribe me a medication that a) improves my quality of life b) has little to no side effects and c) treats my generalized anxiety disorder as a side effect. The excuse was I would become exactly like a heroin addict, which I can’t understand. Maybe I’m not getting something my doctor was saying. I know I would be physically dependent, but I’m physically dependent on 5 prescriptions already what’s one more? Also I don’t want the medication so I can change or alter my mental state or mood, I just want the voices to be quiet. The constant talk they spew is disturbing to say the least. I took my medicine a few hours ago and It’s very peaceful in my head, I don’t hear a whisper and it’s amazing. I do feel like benzodiazepines should be a last resort but i passed by the last resort a long time ago. I’m curious how the doctors of Reddit would theoretically respond to a case like mine.

-Red-
April 19th, 11:13 A.M., The Sprawl
I sparked a dilapidated Vita-Cig that I’d snagged from Trodes and peered out into the Sprawl; the careful equilibrium of a well-orchestrated black-market had returned; pushers and gangers lined the alleys, watching for signals from rooftop lookouts to avoid the single Peacewatch cruiser that had been stupid enough to enter the dockside. The poor bastard would be dead before the afternoon was over… not that I had much sympathy for his kind. Peacewatch made it a habit to stay out of the Sprawl: unless the Eggheads predictive crime system said something catastrophic was coming, they policed their kind and left us in the hands of the mob. I’d never iced an officer. Not yet at least.
“Your partner should be ready shortly, I think he’s just tying up a few loose ends,” Akari said, snatching the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag.
“Remind me again why you think I should take the shrimp with me instead of Nico and Roman?”
“He’s smart… and the other two are working on something else. Besides-- you need brains on this one, Red, not muscle,” she giggled, passing the cigarette back.
“Whatever you say,” I paused, grabbing the smoke, “what do you have them up to?”
“There’s a shipment of Xeno-grade weapons coming down from the colonies. Nico and Roman will be liberating them from the Slicers. Or, their share, at least. It won’t be much, maybe a dozen guns, but it’ll be worth it: the force field tech alone will pay for the trip as soon as Fincetti’s goons start trying to take your heads off with plasma cannons and mono blades.”
“What do you mean, their share?”
“The job was too big for us to take on alone. I linked up with another enterprising group of Freelancers. If it goes well, maybe we can hire them on for the heist, we’re going to need more people if we want to walk out of there alive.”
We?
“What, are you planning on coming along now?” I asked, snuffing out the smoke.
“It only seems right; Trodes is coming along, and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. Besides, you have a dangerous habit of getting shot, and I can’t have you going down in the field,” she said, winking as if to punctuate the sentence.
“You sure? We can manage, you don’t have to come with us, you’ve done so much already.”
“I know I have, that’s why I have to protect my investment. If you go down out there, then the team is without a leader. A military scale operation like this will go south real fast without someone competent in command.”
“You’ve got me wrong, Akari: I’m no leader. I’m just someone who wants to live in a better city and doesn’t mind taking the trash out himself. Besides, why do we need a leader? We’re all competent adults acting in concert, of our own free will. We all know what we’re doing, if a situation arises and someone needs to take charge, it’ll happen.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in a crew you just met,” Akari said with a sneer.
“You know why I asked you to put the team together, Akari?”
“Because there’s a bounty on your head that could finance twenty retirements, and you know you can trust me?”
“No, well yeah, but that’s beside the point—I asked you because you’re not a Fixer, you’re a part time street doc that works the front desk at the most popular Freelancer hotel in the Sprawl. If there’s anyone who knows who’s gonna get the job done, it’s you. See, a Fixer is going to be okay with whatever losses they deem acceptable beforehand, but they’re fine with keeping that to themselves. If you thought any of these mooks were going to crack under pressure, or do something stupid, you wouldn’t have set me up with them.”
Before she could respond, Trodes emerged from the stairs leading to the lab. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, shrugging on the hood of the oversized sweatshirt that blanketed his meek frame. Glimpses of pain showed through every tremor laden step he took. A cloak of wires enveloped his skull, feeding into an old-world cyber console.
“It’s insufferably hot out here,” Trodes sighed.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far. Chances are that whatever hole we’re meeting BFU in will have air conditioning,” I responded, clicking my key fob, and signaling the bike to pull around.
Trodes face fell flat when the Supersonic rolled around the corner; apparently, the prestige of carving through the skyway on a state-of-the-art Taffington jet-bike was lost on him.
“Are we taking… that?” Trodes stammered.
“We are. Unless you’ve got a pair of wheels with two seats?” I asked, mounting the bike and revving the engine.
With an exasperated sigh, Trodes boarded the passenger seat. I could feel him behind me, vibrating as tremors gripped his body.
“You good, buddy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously, clenching the handrails with white knuckles.
Akari shook her head and headed back to the lab.
I heard Trodes mumble something under his breath, but it was quickly drowned out by the jet-bike’s purr. I carved into the skyway. Driving in the Sprawl was pure freedom: almost nobody owned vehicles with aerial capabilities in this part of town. It didn’t take long to reach top speed.
Slummers and gutterpunks walked the streets like zombies in a drug addled haze. The scent of gunpowder, pollution and burning ozone coalesced into a putrid stench that reeked of poverty and violence. Patches of azure moved in militant formation below; the Vorrath had taken to the streets. On a different day, a better day, I would’ve helped them. Most slummers hated the Offworlder Coalition, but not me—at the end of the day I always figured that I had more in common with poor people from another planet than rich people from another district of the city. At least we shared the same struggle.
The bike slowed to crawl; the Neo-Confederates were about, backed by a platoon of Brown-Shirts that looked like a tide of sewer run off, crashing through the streets with reckless abandon. Civilians fled for their homes. Fuck.
The jet-bike careened through the air before finally landing atop a building a few blocks away from the impending conflict.
“Get off,” I said, turning back to Trodes.
“Why? You don’t intend to abandon me at this altitude, do you?”
“Not as long as I survive—I’ll be quick, I just need to ventilate some Nazi fucks, understood?”
He shook his head and muttered a string of curses.
I tore through the air, circling around the impending conflict. I chased a handful of cheap amphetamines with a poorly rolled joint and swooped low, behind the rolling tide of brown shirts. This wasn’t the first time I’d made myself an enemy of the city’s Neo-Nazi’s; I’d killed at least a dozen of them in my career as a courier, but those were isolated incidents, back-alley brawls away from the mob.
This was a whole new ball game.
I fell slack as my Teleoperations module synchronized with the bike. My consciousness faded, reemerging into the HALO-Net’s stylized rendition of the bike’s interior. I wasn’t just the pilot now—I was the bike. Bullets carved twin streaks of crimson into the brown tide. It didn’t take long to hit top speed, 3.7 seconds, to be exact.
The group turned in nearly perfect unison, launching volley upon volley as I passed overhead. The bike’s shields barely held together; I felt every round, like a flock of birds violently slamming into my side—not enough to cause any real damage, but more than enough to get the blood pumping. I slid into an alley a few blocks off and waited for the shield generator to recharge. Gunshots rang out from the streets, alongside the sizzle of plasma meeting flesh. Soon the din was drowned beneath the roar of dozens of Vorrath war cries. I took to the sky.
Trodes was exactly where I left him, nervously clutching a knock off version of a Locust flechette pistol.
“I was beginning to doubt your survival,” Trodes said shakily.
“Wrong again, little guy,” I paused, reigniting a half smoked joint, “it was just a quick hit and run, we don’t have the time or the numbers for a pitched battle. Now, hop on.”
It didn’t take long to find BFU’s base of operations. Black flags and Anarchist graffiti covered the walls of the abandoned warehouse they’d apparently taken up residence in. A field of repurposed Peacewatch turrets were installed atop the roof, complimented by a web of cameras that spread across a three-block radius. Anarchists of all species and creeds loitered outside. The guards ranged from Cyborgs and Vat-Grown, to Vorrath and Vorstihl, each wearing a variant of the black flag with colors corresponding to their ideologies.
As I hovered above the building, I saw a familiar face: the rookie from earlier. Alarmingly, his cruiser was nowhere to be seen. His face was wrought with horror, as a pair of cyborgs led him inside the warehouse.
“They’re certainly less than subtle,” Trodes said.
“They don’t have to be subtle, they’re the biggest citizens political organization in the Sprawl. Peacewatch avoids them if they have anything less than a full platoon on hand,” I explained.
“Red… before we enter negotiations with these hooligans, I must inquire as to what your motivation hitting the vault is? Surely you know there’s a strong likelihood that you won’t make it out, and from what I’d heard about you, I always understood you to be a man who knew how to keep himself out of the line of sight of dangerous people,” Trodes said, nervously.
“Fincetti is the most dangerous man in the city, short of O’Bannon. He controls the black market with an iron fist and is instrumental in all the things I hate about living here. The problem is, I have no way to do anything about it right now… but there’s something big in the safe—there must be—for fucks sake, he iced his family over it. I’m hoping there’s something in there that can give me a little leverage, so I can cross him out afterwards.”
Trodes was silent for a moment, simply reaching as if to ask me to pass the joint. I obliged.
“I have my reasons to want O’Bannon dead too, I’m in,” he paused as a coughing fit seized him, causing the joint to fall to the ground, “there’s something you should know though: I’m working with an entity of great power in the Net; I don’t know what precisely it is, but I know it saved my life more than once. As a matter of fact, it’s the only reason I was able to obtain the blueprint of Fincetti’s bunker, and his security plan.”
“Is it… is it an unshackled AI?”
“Unlikely: it seems to understand compassion and empathy on a uniquely organic level, something that rarely slips past Netwatch.”
“Alright, well whatever it is, you keep an eye on it and let me know if things get shady. I appreciate you telling me.”
Trodes nodded in silence.
The crowd parted expectantly as I landed along the streetside. Dozens of eyes were immediately glued to Trodes and I. A cyborg with a steel double mohawk emerged from a sea of leather, patches, and smoke. A sawed-off shotgun hung at his side.
“Red, I presume?” the Cyborg asked, extending a steel hand.
“That’s right, and who’re you?” I answered, clasping the borgs hand as firm as I could manage.
“They call me Diezel, and I’ll be your host today,” he released my hand and looked me up and down as if assessing whether I was a threat, “follow me, everyone’s here so we can get straight down to business.”
The warehouse’s interior had been renovated drastically; layers of open-faced lofts sat stacked upon each other, consuming the walls. Nearly every non-violent law in the city was being broken in the lofts, from cooking chems and explosives to studying banned literature and Doomguard martial arts. It was beautiful. We followed Diezel through a winding hallway of munitions manufacturing stations, before finally emerging into an immense circular room, with rows of seats climbing the walls. I couldn’t believe it—there must have been two hundred people present.
The lights dimmed as we entered the arena. Diezel led us to the rooms center, ushering Trodes and I onto a great circular platform; he fell into place on a platform across from us, beside a Vat-Grown woman bearing an orange and black flag on her arm, and augmentations that cost more than my bike. Behind the duo a bulbous Vorstihl lurked; tentacles draped down his back, carefully pulled away from his cyclopean eye. A red and black flag was displayed on his arm… it was only then that I noticed the blue and black flag on Diezel’s arm.
The platforms each rose roughly fifteen feet into the air, before microphone stands emerged from the center of each platform. Diezel stepped forward, past the microphone.
“Before we start, I’ll explain how this works: the three of us are representatives of our specific unions—but the people are free to interject. One union voting to aid in your endeavors does not guarantee the help of the other two, as each union demands a perfect consensus. Likewise, if a faction without one union decides to help you, it does not necessarily mean you have the support of the entire union. The only way you’ll end up with total support is cross union consensus. Do you understand?”
A consensus: of course, they needed a damned consensus.
“I do,” I answered, speaking away from the microphone.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Diezel stepped back, finding his microphone before continuing, “Red, Trodes, welcome to the Bouleuterion,” he paused a moment as the crowd erupted into cheers, “beside me are my comrades Aria and Korvirex, and we stand ready to hear your proposal.”
“As most of you probably know, Don Fincetti is the most powerful man in the underworld, hell—maybe even the city—what you likely don’t know is that he has a vault beneath the city, guarded by an army of Harvesters. I intend to break into the vault, slaughter the Harvesters and strike a blow to Fincetti that he won’t forget… and I intend to kill him shortly after. What I ask is simple: you help me in what’s to come, and when he’s finally dead, you can all split his turf among yourselves. All I care about is making sure he doesn’t live long enough to poison the Sprawl more than he already has.”
A murmur emerged from the stands. I gazed across the way to see the three representatives huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Finally, Aria stepped towards her microphone.
“What you ask of us will likely mean the death of many of our people… we need something greater than what you offer—we need a guarantee of mutual aid—you have a reputation in the Sprawl, we would ask that you employ it in helping us when the time comes to resettle the Sprawl. Namely, we’d request your assistance against the gangs that may try to fill the power void you seek to create,” Aria explained.
“That seems reasonable,” I said.
Aria stepped back as Korvirex moved forward.
“Tell me, Red, are you familiar with the Offworlder Coalition?” Korvirex asked.
“I am—as a matter of fact, I aided them on the way here—they were marching against the Neo-Confederates and the Brown Shirts. I insured that they had the element of surprise.”
Korvirex stroked the beard-like tentacles that hung from his chin in contemplation.
“Good. What I ask is that you help us to secure their trust, we have offered solidarity where we could, but our forces are spread thin. The ideology of many of the exiled Vorrath rebels that found their way to Nova City—it matches that of our union. If our help was offered, would you agree to assist us in aiding the Coalition, so that they finally have an opportunity to get on their feet?”
Trodes leaned towards in, whispering in my ear.
“It would be prudent of you to make a counteroffer: proclaim that you’ll help with the Coalition, if they’ll spread the word to other groups whose goals may align with ours. There will likely be at least a couple hundred Harvesters in the Undercity when we strike… unless they’re occupied elsewhere.”
“I would happily help with the Coalition, on the condition that your faction spread the word about what we’re doing to like-minded organizations. As it stands, we could still use more numbers to match the Harvesters,” I said.
“These conditions may be satisfactory,” Korvirex said, before retreating into yet another group huddle.
The audience watched on in silence.
Finally, Diezel reapproached the microphone.
“The representatives have deemed this topic worthy of discussion: you’re free to leave, we’ll get ahold of Akari in a couple days, when all the details are ironed out.”
“A couple days?”
“Reaching a consensus can be a slow process at times—be prepared for a renegotiation of conditions, as there will likely be more stipulations made once the process is complete,” Diezel explained.
I nodded, and the platform beneath my feet began to descend towards the floor. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Hopefully Nico and Roman would beat us home

Demographics: Indian/Pakistani/Persian Male (50% Indian, 25 - 25 others) Apparently this allows me to put MENA on my common app.
Applying to college as a junior because I hate my life and I want to run away. I have guaranteed admission to UCM and UCR which is my worst case scenario.
My family thinks I'm fucked because I got 2 Bs. Residency: SoCal
Top Public High School in California
Income: >350k Intended Major(s): Political Science ACT: 36 (All Sections) UW/W GPA and Rank: 3.92UW/4.27W Top 15% Coursework: AP Chem (5), AP Calc AB (5), APWH (5), AP HUG (5), Intro Poli Sci (community college), Calc 2 (community college) Senior Year APs: AP Lang, APUSH, AP Bio, AP Stats, AP Psych Awards:
- Congressional Gold Medal
- PVSA Lifetime
- Eagle Scout
- County Academic League Winner
- School Character Award (Given to 2 kids per grade)
- Quiz Bowl Team Nationals 13th place
- AP Scholar with Distinction
- Duke Of Edinburgh Silver Award
(lemme know which ones to put) Extracurriculars (Help Me Condense these) Trying to make a story about American Politics:

1. Boy Scouts, Eagle Scouts, and ASPL. Have been in Scouting since first grade.
2. Political Science Research at a T100 UC near me. Doing this for 2 years. My name is on publication.
3. Political Science Research at Brown. Doing this for 3 months.
4. Political Science Research at a State School Online. My name is on Publication.
5. Internship with State Assemblymember.
6. Founder Of a Nonprofit that teaches kids political literacy at three of the local elementary schools. Nonprofit since 7th grade.
7. Vice President Of Quiz Bowl, Have been a part of since 7th grade. Served as Treasurer last year.
8. Captain Of Junior Varsity Academic League
9. President and Founder Of Model Congress Club. First Model Congress in the city.
10. Secretary Of Model UN.
11. Youth Fellow at National Democrat Organization
12. Member Of a National Civics-Based Youth Board
13. USA Head at a big global nonprofit.
14. Wrote and self-published a book on civic engagement for children. Sold over 1000 copies (don't ask who though)

Help me make my story, please
Essays:
8.5/10, gonna write about my struggles with eating disorders and how I lost 150 pounds after my family bullied me for my weight.
LORs: Brown Professor / T100 UC Professor (Depends on which school), AP Chem Teacher 7/10, APWH Teacher (11/10) - Notorious for only writing letters for only 3 kids. She is the advisor of Model UN, Model Congress, Academic League, and Quiz Bowl. In her letter of rec for my youth board, she wrote that I am the hardest working student she has ever had.
Schools: Brown (ED), Bowdoin (ED2), Uchicago EA, UVA EA, NYU (Gallatin) RD, Cornell RD, Dartmouth RD, Amherst RD, UMich EA, Emory RD, Williams RD, USC EA, UCLA, UCB, Harvard RD, Duke RD,
Please let me know what I can do to make my application stronger. I AM DESPERATE TO START A NEW LIFE!!

I'm looking to up my rehearsal + gig buildout and would like to make the jump to having monitors that I can feed guitar + bass + vocals + drums into. Currently, I just use some Earaser earplugs and the rest of the band turns their speakers up pretty loud, but I often have trouble hearing the nuisances of their playing over the acoustic sound of my own drums and cymbals.
I've looked at a few threads on this subject on this subreddit but haven't found anyone asking quite the same thing. Does anyone have a particular setup they can suggest for doing the above while offering hearing protection? From my research, it seems that if the in-ears fit properly, then they should offer adequate hearing protection. That said, I'm not opposed to over-ears or even just having a personal speaker next to me like I've used at some shows.
Beyond the monitor situation, what do people suggest for the rest of the gear needed? At our rehearsal space, I currently have all the drums mic'd up as well as 2 overheads that we run to a computer through an interface. Would I just plug the in/over-ears or speaker into the interface as well as one of the outs? Similarly for gigs, what's the standard way to feed yourself the rest of the band?
I've been playing drums for about 20 years but am new to this so aspect of practicing + performing so would greatly appreciate anyone's insight on the matter!

Idk where I am heading to . I am lost , I just hope I could make something out of my life . Every other person has some goals or targets here , I don’t have any purpose in life, it’s like I am wasting my life . When I see people with blueprints of their life and openly discussing it with each other I just feel left out because I haven’t decided anything and I am fuckin scared but I still wake up everyday trying to understand everything and purpose of everything . Everyday I wake up to prepare for entrance exam and I don’t even know if I even passed the exam would it change my life for good or make it worse. Am I following my parents blindly to get their validation or attention? I haven’t figured out anything till now - where ever I am now it’s a hell hole. My life is now limited to my room wake up- study-eat-binge watch-sleep. And this time table has made me sick. I wanna live a real life , meet some people , discuss things, have a convo with them . Almost 5 days a week I don’t have anyone to talk to and other 2 days ( weekends ) my elder brother doesn’t talk to me much . And my parents makes it worse , they don’t let me go out much not even for 10 mins and my exams are near and the idea of me not getting accepted in college makes me precipitate and the face of disappointment my father would have on that day makes me wanna kms. I am dying inside but the small hope that everything would turn out great is making me alive.

I get taken advantage of in romantic relationships because after years of not having the best practical skills.. and making pragmatic/organizational errors It almost becomes easier to just assume I’m wrong and accept defeat. Which, to no surprise, leads to me getting taken advantage of by boyfriends. And then I am left scratching my head on whether I’m over reacting to something that happened or if something is actually objectively wrong and I’m being manipulated to think “everything is fine.”
But this also applies to jobs, friendships, meeting strangers. It’s very frustrating sometimes.
I have to quadruple check documents to make sure I didn’t make a minor error and go into INTENSEEE hyper focus when double checking them.
Anyone else feel this way?… it borders on neuroticism truthfully lol

Im considering filing on my wife due to a multitude of reasons. I married entirely too young and have become a different man than i was, she drinks too much (not hammered every night but definitely 3+ times a week and shes promised to stop countless times now), the bedroom is completely dead (maybe 3-5 times a year tops. Not even on my birthday this year), and she has 0 aspirations to make anymore money or do what needs to happen to advance in her career. I understand being content in ones job but she makes terrible money and complains constantly about her job and wont do anything to fix it. I love this woman as she is a fantastic mother and a great roommate but shes just not a good wife by any measure. I truly feel held back and tied down by her. I know i can make great money because ive done it before. I know i can make memorable experiences with my son because ive done it before. I know i can live life happy because ive done it before....i just dont want to do it anymore with her...i keep picturing my life without her and it makes me smile. I picture running my own business again and more that i cant have with her. I dont know if i cant be happy with her or if i wont....either way, im not anymore. I have potential and the drive to make anything i want of myself but i feel so constricted by this anchor of a druken, sexless, financially poor wife....i just dont know how to explain this to my son and im scared. Has anyone been in a similar situation? Please tell me your experiences.

Started the day by getting them breakfast in their room, chocolate croissant which they ate most off, then headed off to the GPs to get eldest checked out for her persistent tummy upsets. (had Mums help with all this as she needed to go GPs too)
Then headed to the park for a play and packed lunch outside which i pre-prepared and again both girls ate reasonably well.
Then back home for 1 year old to nap and eldest to have a relax on the sofa watching the old classic 80/90s Fun house UK kids programme that she loves followed by some colouring in and amazingly the youngest went down pretty easily.
Then took them both to a soft play that was totally empty, so had to summon Blueys Dads Bandits personality and add a sense of madness and fun to the scarily quiet soft play. After we had a little time to kill so popped over to the local park which was hard work cause it was designed for older kids and pretty busy due to the good weather (hence why the soft play was quiet) so had to be on top form keeping an eye on the eldest while helicoptering the youngest.
Then back home to get help from Mum where we had a not so healthy dinner of pizza yogurt and ice cream, followed by a bath, story time and bed.
they both behaved really well today, plenty of laughs, very little tears (only once when eldest fell off something at the park) and as I write this they have just gone to bed and its quiet.....
Will now go sort out the bags for tomorrow as we are off to a local Play farm (soft play, playgrounds and farm animals)
I tried my best today and iv been really worried about having both of them all day but its been really fun but I am exhausted.
All in all, looked after the kids well, entertained them and done a fair amount of house work.... the wife's now giving me so very suggestive looks, as theres nothing hotter than a man looking after the kids and the chores. Hopefully ill have enough energy for the rest of the week. Wish me luck guys!

I am honestly considering becoming a household manager. I’m fantasizing about a more flexible work situation, and working for myself has a lot of appeal in that way. I’m also really good at the nuts and bolts of running a household (if only this pesky 9-5 wasn’t in the way).
Here are the things I think I would see value in offering: appointment management, scheduling home maintenance, vacation research/booking, etc. I would also be willing to do home organization tasks like organizing closets, turning over wardrobes per season or as kids outgrow stuff, maybe even seasonal decorating? Additionally a few “this but not that” things I have kicking around in my head: I’d meal plan, but not cook. I’d buy gifts but I’d be verrry hesitant to get into any kind of party or event planning. I’d be happy to organize as above, but I don’t want to be your housekeeper (nothing against housekeepers, it’s just not my strength and I don’t want to make it a strength).
Am I missing anything? If you have a household manager, would you be willing to tell me more about how that works? What you love about it, what your pain points are? And though I’m sure this varies WIDELY by location, how much do you pay for this service and what does that fee include for you?

Next monday im driving from bamfield and i wanted to do a proper loop of the lower area of vancouver island so i figure id head to port renfrew from Bamfield. Im looking at this route;
Central south rd-flora-mainline carmanah-cowichan main hookup-gordon river rd
How rough are these roads? I have a durable vehicle that's made similar journeys on the mainland so I'm comfortable with offroading, my main concern are wash outs and high ground clearance areas. Google says it will take 3 and half hours over 111km, how accurate is that? Is it worth the drive or should i go to cowichan lake instead?
Thanks in advance!

I have been asking myself questions about my identity, and whether that identity was valid or acceptable for most of my life. I'm done doing that. I have a lot more questions to ask and decisions to make, including what, if any steps, I am going to take toward physically and socially transitioning. However, I am no longer going to deny my identity to myself. I'm going to acknowledge it and live connected to my whole self, rather than locking part of myself in a closet. She's going to live, even if only in my head and in my therapy sessions for the moment. So here goes:
Hi, my name is Ashlyn, and I'm a trans woman, and I am going to be vulnerable enough to accept myself. Thank you to the beautiful people in this community whose examples of vulnerability and self-acceptance made it easier for me to join you in that💜
🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

My friend has a few ticks on his back. And I have no idea how to remove them. He suggested burning them and suffocating them with peanut butter or Vaseline.
My other friend tried pulling one out himself. And it’s head (separated from body) is hella stuck. Like they’re using a lot of force with their fingers. And it’s like stuck stuck.
Also I know he can get Lyme disease from it. Anything I should look out for? I have kept the body of the one removed. And plan to keep the rest once removed. I’ve dated it and time stamped it with a label of general location. As well as pictured before removal with them still in. Just in case.
Thanks for any help. Hope you’re doing okay.

I (28f) brother (25m) used to be thick as thieves growing up. We were our parents rebel kids after their divorce and my mother dating a crack addict for years while my father socially drank on a regular basis my brother and I started sliding down a slippery slope. Drugs, vandalism, fights, and just angry children. We both were drop outs had children as teenagers with very toxic partners. In our early twenties we both started a heroin addiction with our mother. It was hell. We over stepped relationship boundaries as children and parent and all used and abused one another would royally fuck each other over just to get our fix if we needed it. It was a low place. In our little sewing circle I became the scape goat everyone threw all the blame on me and I caught a lot of hell. I eventually got arrested lost my children and decided to get my life in order. I met a great guy who also had struggled with addiction moved to a new town got custody of my children and went on with my life. My brother tried to do the same after being in and out of jail so many times. He got another girl pregnant then violated his house arrest 2 months into her pregnancy and was sent to prison. It was rough especially for our father. He went into debt trying to save my brother from his addiction. I had a few hiccups in my sobriety and relapsed a time or two but I really fought with all I had to ensure I stay persistent in my recovery. Life moved on while my little brother sat in prison good and bad things all around. By the time he was released I was a home owner working a really good remote job for health insurance and had just gotten a new car life was great. My brother managed to get a really good job through a program the prison offered after he was released he lived 4 hours away from us and we were happy for him. Not long after he started working though he started back up again found someone selling heroin in pressed capsules and got back on drugs. It was a whole side of addiction I'd never been on I was always the one right there causing problems So being sober and being in a clear mindset I worried I dropped calls at work to try and call everywhere there was to call to help my brother get into detox he had died while up there twice and even came a hair from going back to prison. It was scary frustrating and depressing. I helped my brother navigate how to use his insurance through his job to properly without risking losing that job got him into an emergency detox center even had a rehab facility ready when he completed detox. Eventually the pressure was too much and he came back home to our family. We sat and talked about it he started a relationship back up with his oldest child and even was introduced to his youngest that he never got to meet due to prison. We knew it would take a minute to really settle in and were more than happy to help. My dads friend was the head of HR to a really good company that was willing to hire him on the spot my older sister and I were sending him affordable places to rent in our hometown and my mother let him stay with her until he finally tied everything together. I really was proud of him. I was happy that we were starting a new chapter. Then last week I got a call from my brothers girlfriend in tears telling me he is blue and she doesn't know how to use narcan. I sat on the phone with her telling her how to use it then kept strongly insisting she call 911 but just as I said that I hear my brother in the background finally back from the dead angrily yelling at his girlfriend and even me that he's up and fine he just did it this once and it was too much. I know that's a lie. As an addict you simply don't get high one time and call it a day. It's not like having a beer one night out of the week. It's fucking heroin...or now really fentanyl. He began getting angry and was only concerned about weather or not I was going to tell our dad or not threatening me and pushing that he's on parole and if he goes back to prison it'll be my fault. I didn't say alot during the duration of that call while my brother and even my mom tried to deny and downplay him clearly overdosing. I haven't talked with him since. I don't plan to. I'm tired. Our grandmother is dying and on hospice.... I'm not coming to terms with losing her now I have to worry about possibly losing him as well? Fuck that. I let my family know if they invite him to things don't invite me. If you call me don't call me to tell me about my brother. I don't care and don't want to know. I dont want to play like everything is fine and pretend my brother isn't getting fucked up when he clearly is and we all know it. I'm done. My family isn't taking this well. They keep telling me that's still my brother. They keep telling me things he's said or has done after asking them to stop. They think my reaction is cold. I don't think it is. I've done this too much in my life and I'm tired of losing my mind over it. I can't say or do anything to make him stop doing drugs and I won't bend to his command to look the other way. But my family really thinks this isn't the way to go about it. Yet I'm angry. AITAH?

What is your job? Do you like your job? If you don't like your job what would you like to be doing? If your currently not working have you ever worked & what? I like my job as a cyber security specialist. I have been doing this coming into 5 years. Before this I was a Porn Producer for a Porn Company for almost 5 years before I quit. Porn Producer is like Hollywood Producer. One of the things as Producer would be hiring the porn actors & actresses. Hiring actresses was the hardest because around 85% of new women who enter porn are between the ages of 18 to 21 years old. Working in the industry does mess with your head because even after 5 years being out of the industry there are times in my head where I am thinking this girl should do porn.

Feeling horrible after eating not good potatoes
Dudes, this loneliness is getting really hard to remanticize lmao
The most exciting part of my day is when i finally go to bed at night and start creating imaginary scenarios in my head and I hope that making few new friends will change it and I'll be able to at least have someone to talk about them
ANYWAY Im European (or you can also call be proffesional cowboy at this point) that just (damn already eight months has passed actually) started another year in high school!
My hobbies:
-Saying "no worries either way" when I'm actually worrying both ways plus a secret third way
-Measuring time using songs: "oh it only took me 3 songs to get here"
-Cooking - I find a lot of recipes online that I'm actually making but they turn out to not be edible
- vulture culture (don't let that scare you), taxidermy
-building pretty homes in minecraft (only on creative tho, I'm not good enough to survive on survival more than 3 seconds)
-Talking to flowers (I found them pushy and superficial)
- Games, of course
-Sending emails to Obama
-Sneaking a few blueberries into a strangers pocket so they can have a little snack later
-Arguing with conservative people on twitter and everywhere else
-Going to sleep with the sun and waking up with the sun
-veganism, feminism <3
Excuse me for posting so often but most of people messaging me are total freaks that are sending their worm pictures or ask for weird stuff right away so I'm giving another try to finding actually genuine people!
Please say something more than "hi hru" or at least don't be surprised if you won't get any answer to such dry messages:) I want to find someone long term so effort is very important! Idk you can start with saying what's your favorite worm or why capitalism is bad or your controversial opinion. It's up to you <3
Don't message me if you're way older (5+ years), have empty profile, looking for relationship, don't like animals, or if your account is full of nsfw things (posts/comments) or I'll scream
Oh and also add "I peed" at the end of ur message as a proof that you've read it all <3