I have a part time job for a bit more than 6 months now. The work environment is amazing, the people are friendly and my boss is my professor. I won't be fired, it's a public sector job.
But contrary to my previous beliefs, this sector doesn't appear very promising. Salaries are declining, lots of people being fired, the ones still working are pretty low paid compared to even me, who work part time only. Actually, my salary is not good either and in general I'm getting discouraged.
Think I was pretty excited when i started because I thought programming would be the next big thing in my life. In the end I'm worse or the same off as before, but doing a job that's more complicated, harder, has more deadlines and even though I feel valued as a person, i don't feel rewarded in $$.
Then there's job interviews abroad, just the amount of stuff you need to study to pass those interviews makes me wanna fart. I'm a married, 37 yo man who's about to pursue a masters. Programming is gonna help, but I'm not sure about my future, about studying yet a lot more to maybe stay in a stagnant position.
Of course all i have said here are the effect grey lenses, some days i think the job is amazing and that i got a great opportunity, but today specifically i woke up and that's the first thought that came to my head: that IT isn't change my life like it seemed when it was booming during the pandemics
Seems like just another of the many waves of capitalist scam that came in the past, now I'm overworking and getting overpaid, and when i look out there there isn't anything that looks much better and as i said, I'm the same or worse off in financial terma compared to before.

My friend is on the jobseeker payment and working a casual cash-in-hand job. About once/week they're payed through a bank transfer instead of cash. Is this risky behaviour? Are Centrelink capable of an audit that will detect these payments as paid work. And, considering that the casual income is only $150/week, if it was declared, would it subtract from their Jobseeker allowance?

For context I am 23, work locally as a software developer in the North West on a £33,400/year wage, and I am lucky to be able to live at home with my parents with no real bills to pay. I'm new to the FIRE concept however I have naturally been a 'saver' since I started work at 18. I also have 0 zero debt, I never went to uni and was able to buy my car outright.
Below is what I have figured out

After pension payments (15% total, 9% from me + 6% from my employer) my total take home per month is just over £2k. I will soon be getting a 4% pay rise so I am likely going to put this extra 4% into my pension.
Of this £2k I am currently committed to saving:
- £250 goes into a S&S ISA
- £600 I put into a Triple Access Saver account, at 2.5%, which finishes at the end of November. Once this graduates I will put £4k into my LISA to max that out, and the remaining amount I will roll over. I worked this out as roughly £350/month for the LISA and £250/month as general savings.
- £150 I have started to put into an Easy Access Saver, at 3.2%, which I can put towards holidays/trips/etc
Monthly outgoings I have total about £170 month (Gym £18, Phone £32, Petrol £100, misc. subscriptions etc £15)

This leaves me with say £800 remaining. I have a Monzo account that I use as my 'daily spending' account, which I have set a £500 budget and will transfer money into this account when I need it - however I don't always reach that £500 limit. Anything remaining is sitting in my current account (maybe I should put this into my easy access saver?) and acts as an emergency fund, or I can use this for holidays also.
Early 2024 I am aiming to travel for a month or two (I estimate £5k-6k for this, and I shouldn't have to dip into my savings too much) and then towards the end of 2024/early 2025 I will hopefully look into getting a house with my girlfriend, possibly looking at houses in the region of 200k-250k? I would need to do some more research here.
I enjoy my job and it is enough for now, with room for salary and career progression - so I will likely only look to move jobs after I have my own house, but this could change of course. Below is a rough breakdown of my savings as they stand now.

LISA with £15k
S&S ISA with £9k
1 year fixed rate ISA £11k
Pension £6k

I do not necessarily have a target retirement age (mid 50s maybe?) but I especially like the idea of being financially independent and not having to work full time well into my 50s. So my question is, am I on the right track?

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Hi I am new to this group and this is my first post so apologies in advance if I inadvertently offend/mess up.
So. Been with partner 10 years, we have a 3 year old. My in-laws have always been tricky, and I always found them intrusive and weirdly materialistic. They also clearly always drank way too much. However, I come from an extremely dysfunctional family so always presumed it was me not knowing what “normal” looked like etc. The pressure to have a baby started about four years in to being with my partner. I was always super clear, we were planning on having a baby when we were financially comfortable enough to do so. Sadly my gran died leaving me with an inheritance enough for a deposit on a house, which my in laws matched, which I was super great full for and when I thanked them the response was “well we want you to have our grand baby now”. Great. Anyway, my P always dealt with them and I only saw them at family events/Holidays so it never was a big deal until I luckily became pregnant. Instantly everything changed, wanting to FaceTime every couple of days, see me (not him, their son) at least every month (they live around 2 hours away) when they did see me rubbing my bump etc without asking, just speaking to the bump. I told my P I was uncomfortable with that, he said to MIL to back off a bit, hysterics and crying down the phone ensued.
I had a shit of a birth. When we rang them to tell them they were drunk (it was during a national holiday in my country so fair enough). P and I had already decided (and told them already) that we were going to probably not see anyone in the hospital depending on how things went. I was not in a place to see anyone, as I was very poorly. They rang us a couple of hours later to ask what time visiting times were, P told them that I was really not great and needed some space but hopefully we’d all be home in a couple of days and they could come over then. They told him they were disappointed with him for not putting their feelings first. They then didn’t speak to us properly for our child’s first week and had various family members ring us and text us to say how much we’d upset them (this is even after they’ve met the baby). My partner was wonderful for the first few days but then had a breakdown through the stress they were causing him. So the first month of being a parent was just ruined for me. I’ll never forgive them for that.
Anyway we finally had them come over maybe five days after the birth (day after I got home) and they wouldn’t speak to P, took the baby on it’s first walk in the park (I wasn’t allowed out of bed) telling P he wasn’t coming as they were too disappointed in him. I was too poorly and knackered really to do anything or say anything. The next few weeks they demanded to see us every week, I couldn’t drive for a couple of months so they came over to us, took the baby out and brought it back having not fed (expressed milk in a bottle) changed or let it sleep, I remember one time they left me on the couch with no drink breastfeeding a hysterical baby wet Baby as they didn’t want to be in traffic (they are retired their car basically drives itself and they live 2 hours away on a bad day). They also called me The Dairy and Lunch rather than my name during the year I breastfed.
Then we had a lockdown in my country during the pandemic. Daily FaceTimes in floods of tears that we wouldn’t break the law to let them see their baby, texting me several times a day demanding videos of the baby. When we were allowed to we “bubbled” with my best friend who is single and had been alone with no contact with anyone for months and they went absolutely mad saying I was selfish for not putting them first and how much they hated my best friend, last year they met her and told her how much they hated her for stealing their time with their baby and for seeing their baby more than they did, it was awful. She was amazing during that very very difficult time and to be abused like that by family was just embarrassing. Fast forward three years and it’s just ongoing. My P was a SAHD for a year as he lost his job owing to the pandemic and I’m more career oriented anyway, they refused to speak to him properly since as they’re disgusted he won’t provide for his family. He has realised so much about his own childhood was unhealthy with them (they consistently left him and his sister to fend for themselves from the ages of 6 and 3, working all hours to provide a massive holiday every year and told them how grateful they should be for that). They are always drunk and expect P and i to drink heavily with them, shaming us when we don’t. MIL is now starting with wanting another baby pressure. Said to me she doesn’t like the toddler years only the baby ones and don’t I think I’m selfish in not giving her more grandchildren. Hinting that they will help us out financially if we have another baby (they never help in any other way, and belittle P for having borrowed money from them in the past which is now paid off). I’ve been really clear, I’m not having another baby. I know they are slagging me off behind my back for this. I honestly couldn’t give a shit for me, but it’s seeing my partner grieve for his lack of love and support that sticks. They do not care about him in anyway other than as a conduit to the baby (now toddler). They never ask him how he is, they offered no emotional Support or empathy when he lost his job, FIL has told him he can’t respect him and MIL emotionally manipulated him to get him to drive over and see them more often with our child (she told him she was loosing her sight, when I checked up on the condition she said she had it is very common and treatable but she had my partner convinced she was going blind with her description of it). This weekend they said to us they would come over for late breakfast and take child out. Partner rang them at 11am as we hadn’t heard from them, they hadn’t even got up. Partner had cooked a massive breakfast and was just gutted. When they got here (around 2) they didn’t speak to him at all and took the child out for two hours then dropped them off and left, didn’t ask him anything about how he was etc. My heart breaks for him. I would love to limit contact and I think he would too but every time we do this another emotional onslaught happens -the “Im going blind” incident happened just after my partner told them he wasn’t comfortable in dropping our child off in a service station near their house “so that he wouldn’t have to come to their house and they could drive Child to their house like they wanted to”, for example. Any suggestions welcome! Thank you and sorry for the long (but extremely cathartic) post!

Hey Spain!
I've lived here for half my life but now it is time for me to return to the UK at the end of April. I don't see myself ever coming back to live (but never say never) so I'm just looking for some advice if there's anything I should do before I leave, that nothing could trip me up at a later date (such as taxes or whatever). Currently I am employed by a Spanish company and they have said I can work remotely for them from the UK which I may do until I find a better paid job in the UK. So even though I won't be living in Spain anymore I may still temporarily be on a nomina (might see if I can change to self employed or someting in the UK). Do I need to report that I'm leaving to anywhere or can I just pack up and leave? Since I don't really intend to come back.

Hi fellow expats,
Currently, I am living in Hefei. I am going to graduate soon from a Chinese university with a major related to Electronics. I have a job offer from a tech company. The company has given me 2 options Sheznzhen or Xian.
I have been living in china for 4 years but never have been to both of the cities. I need some guidance in choosing one of the cities. I just know that Shenzhen is more advanced in technology and foreigners friendly. it's a coastal city. what about the rules and regulations? prices of houses (to rent), daily life, and party. How much money is enough to live a comfortable life in each city ? how about Xian? I just know that it's ancient and nothing else. Any guidance will be highly appreciated.
Thank you

Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....

For some background, friend [F 26] of mine [M 26] moved out of state with an on again, off again situationship. (The last attempt resulted in me driving 2 hours to pick them up because they’d been kicked out). This time, the relationship was abandoned for another one that long story short, didn’t work out either and they were faced with having to go to a shelter with their kid.
Side note: We’ve known each other for around 10 years. I’ve stayed with her for about 6 months @ 20 y/o (before baby). I was kicked out and haphazardly wound up on her doorstep as she discussed wanting to live together prior. I paid 1/2 her rent ($300)+ electric and wifi bill in exchange to sleep in the walk-in closet of her then studio apartment.
She expected to come into a small lump sum of money (+6k) and I had recently resigned from my job. I figured we could help each other and they could rent a room + split the rent ($600 a piece) while she looked for housing.
Her job wanted them back and she asked if I could babysit for a day so she could do a shift (which didn’t quite make sense to me, but I figured she could at least hold her place). That turned into 3 more days which I asked no payment for but was paid $30.
I have no childcare experience, felt as though it distracted from my daily tasks, felt uncomfortable/didn’t want to change diapers, and felt as though the pay should’ve been at least 3x more…
The situation since then has been remedied as another friend and my sister has stepped in to help.
She recently brought up us doing DoorDash for some extra cash (I told her I’d consider it) but thought about the facts: only I have a license, we’d have to get a rental (this triggers anxiety since if anything happens I’m responsible, the baby would have to accompany us (crying, changing diapers), and honestly, it’s something I could do on my own, why would I split the profit? I feel like in our arrangements I’m getting the shorter end of the stick but am trying to be sympathetic. AITA?

Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....

Hey guys! Please let me know if this is the wrong place - I wanted to say in advance that the point of this post isn't to get advice necessarily, but to see if anyone else had similar situations.
Also, I'm sorry this is so long - I realized at the end that I've been holding these feelings in for several months.
TL;DR: After growing up in financial insecurity, I found a job I loved that paid more than I thought I was qualified for. It remains to be the highest-paying job I've ever had. A new supervisor changed our setup entirely and decided that I specifically was deadweight. I left because my mental health couldn't take it, but I still can't believe I was shoved out of a job I loved by a boss who was newer to the company than I was.
---
A little over a year ago, I was freshly married, moving to a new city, and trying to figure out grad school. I had been working in healthcare-adjacent jobs, and my current job was not paying well. Naturally, I went job hunting.
I found what seemed like the perfect job with an unbelievable income and benefit package. I applied, and throughout the interview process I realized I loved the team and its mission. It was a healthcare start-up, and the role I was applying for was a new concept that I always wish existed. I not only got the job, but I was offered a salary much higher than was advertised on the job boards. It was nearly twice as much than any job ever paid me, which was astonishing. I lived on food stamps in high school and got by on quarters throughout college, and the idea that I'd not only do something I loved but also be financially comfortable was mindblowing.
I spent a year working and loving the company completely. And things started shifting. The start-up decided they wanted to grow, and fast. My job and title more or less changed overnight, but I wound up loving the change because it converted my position into a purely remote role. I was part of a small team of less than five people, and the person who trained me originally was our leader.
And then there was another shift. Seemingly overnight, we were told that that this leader had been demoted, and we were being assigned a new supervisor. Our new leader was someone who was previously part of another team. However, every member of our team had worked for the company longer than this supervisor, which was weird, especially given the fact that our original leader was well-loved, extremely efficient, and had been working for the company nearly since its beginning.
Before this new supervisor arrived, we had this system where we would rotate roles. Part of our job involved tracking requests and tasks from other teams and then entering them into our team's task management system. The tasks were not originally assigned to any one person - they just belonged to whomever was assigned to task completion that day or week, and so they were everyone's responsibility.
This supervisor decided overnight that whomever originally entered a task into the system was now responsible for it, no matter how long ago that was. The problem was, I was usually the person who wound up tracking and recording tasks, and so I found myself assigned nearly twice as many tasks as my teammates. Things we were all working on suddenly became my responsibility solely. This supervisor also introduced a whole new set of deadlines - in other words, she decided that many of 'my' tasks should have been done weeks before. I repeatedly tried to tell her that I could not meet this new standard and that I suddenly had far more tasks than the other teammates. She told me that regardless of the number of tasks I had, I was 'falling behind' everyone else (despite the fact that I actually had the highest task completion by sheer numbers, which our systems tracked). I sent her charts and screenshots, but this supervisor insisted that I was dragging the team down. Our one-on-ones had evolved into sessions for her to nitpick and find new ways I was failing our team, and each day began to chip away at me.
This eventually led to her inviting me to a meeting that was supposed to be our weekly one-on-one. However, It more or less turned out to be an hour of her telling me that I was falling short of every KPI and would be fired if I did not 'improve' and resolve all 80+ complex tasks I had within a couple weeks. To make it worse, she apparently told a teammate to change the due dates of all of my tasks, and suddenly tasks that were not in the red were overdue by several days. I left the meeting in tears, humiliated and feeling disgusted.
The following day, I sent in my letter of resignation and turned off my notifications. My mental health was in shambles. After taking a month of rest (my spouse carried the weight of finances for a while), I found my current job, which pays almost half as much. Fortunately, my spouse has a fairly well-paying job that he loves, and we are still financially stable (though we are not quite as able to splurge and cover medical expenses as we once did).
I love my current workplace. I have a supervisor who is supportive and actually listens to our team, and I feel as though we are making meaningful change in the populations we treat. But I just received a notification that my former supervisor was celebrating her anniversary with my old company, and it reminded me that she turned a job I loved (and was even considering retiring with) into a hellscape.
I'm sometimes ashamed that this still messes with me, but the reality is that it happened only within the last 6 months.
Have any of you guys ever experienced anything similar? I'm not sure if it would be reassuring or just sad to find out that this experience is common.
Edit: Tried to improve grammar and clarify some details a little bit.

I'm in the process of purchasing a house. I've been looking for quite a while (nearly a year) and finally found a place I can afford (read: qualify for a loan) and has what I want.

The concern is that my post tax salary is a bit more than 3,500 bi weekly, and my monthly mortgage is 6k. So around 80% of my post tax take-home pay from cash salary will be going towards mortgage.

In a vacuum, most people including me would say this is a horrible horrible thing and should absolutely not be done. However, there is more to it.

1)First, there are other sources of income. Around 20k a year of after-tax stock income (paid out 5k every quarter), as well as a once a year bonus of around 30k, as well as my father who makes around 30k-60k a year (variable but 30k is definitely a safe lower bound). So I think we have at least a bare minimum of 60k a year income in the worst case, if I count my entire salary going towards mortgage. My family and father live with me and don't have their own place. I don't have any other debts. I also have a respectable amount of savings (8mo+) both cash and 401k (around another 6mo+) if I need to do an emergency withdrawal. I also have well-off family who, if needed, can pitch in if my 1yr+ of savings are not enough, and they are all looped in and supportive of the house purchase.

2) Second, I expect my pay to increase a respectable amount (5-10% a year), and in 5-6 years I should have a non-trivial amount of increased compensation, probably at least enough to leave me with 3-5k in cash per month after mortgage, not count any stocks or bonys. I expect it will stagnate and stay the same, just based on the average increase in salary in my field and upper ceiling of pay, barring inflation rate increases. This year, with everything that's happened in the tech industry, I got a 7% increase in pay, without promotion. Most people got that. Last year was 9%, again without promo or anything. With promo and stock increases I should get around 10-15% raise

3) I live in the socal area, and prices here have done nothing but go up. Waiting to have more income to buy a house doesn't seem to make sense since houses are appreciating a decent amount compared to wages so if I can't afford the house I want now, it's unrealistic to expect some kind of magic to happen for me to afford it suddenly in the future. Sure, maybe some kind of economic crash happens, but theres no reason to assume that the same economic crash doesn't affect me and severely impact my ability to afford a house.

I just want to hear people's opinion on this. On paper it's kind of ludicrous to pay almost entire paycheck to mortgage but with 1) other sources of income and 2) the expected increase in my pay over the medium term and 3) expected appreciation of properties in the area, I think it makes sense, even if I'm a bit overstretched at the moment. Add on decent savings and zero other debts I think my family and I should be ok.

Please be honest and not rude. I am genuinely looking for other people's perspective. I do not see an issue with this arrangement. I'm not trying to humble brag or anything.

In my head, rationalize it as "My family and I live in a house for free, my job pays me 1k a month, and my dad makes 3-6k a month. I also get paid around 5k in stocks every 3 months, and I get around 20-30k bonus every year. I have 6mo+ of savings in the bank. My salary is going go up in the years to come.". I don't see the problem, other than it deviates from the traditional advice of "30% of income to mortgage".

I feel like an idiot. I don’t know how to seek advice and now the problem got bad IMO.
I stayed at an apt with my cat for 2.5 months. It was a last minute booking for my new job. The host lived nearby. She requested a pet fee that is refundable as long as you don’t leave “pet hair and pet messes” + cleaning fee.
During my stay, she informed me that there is a cleaner that I have to hire during my stay for a rate of $100 + tips. Any laundry (including bedsheets) was an additional $25 per hour (no washedryer until halfway in my visit, although there was a laundromat nearby). I paid the cleaner directly via Zelle (price was set by the host via text messaging) ~$400 total outside of Airbnb, 2 sessions during the end of Jan and Feb.
For this past week, I decided to not pay for the cleaner because I figure the cleaning fee covered this. Nonetheless, I swept the place, used the swifter to mop the floor (esp where the cat litter was), wash towels, wiped the counters/stove, and take out trash. I did leave behind some food in the fridge and some items for her to donate/keep (since it couldn’t fit in my car, like a Walmart weave plastic dresser, a scratching post, a motorized cat toy).
The host told me yesterday she is withholding my pet fee because I left behind “a lot of cat hair everywhere” and my cat stained her rug (which was already damaged). She said that “I didn’t clean up after myself or hire someone to do so.”
I’m not sure how helpful support will be…I have submitted screenshots of everything to them and they are reaching out to her now (mostly regarding the outside payment). Honestly, I don’t care too much about the money but I do want to leave a 1 star without repercussions or her removing it. I want to warn future guests about these things that were not mentioned in the manual.
Not sure really how this is gonna be resolved. Honestly, I’m gonna delete my Airbnb account after I rate her, this experience really left a sour taste.

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[REQ] ($200) (#Hobbs, New Mexico, USA) (repay $125 on 12/17 and $125 on 12/24) (CashApp)

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I will try to keep this as short as possible but after buying a new car the transmission completely kicked the bucket. Was con'd and stolen from by first mechanic and depleted my savings paying for a new transmission and for the second mechanic to install it. This went on for over three weeks, so for over two weeks I couldn't get to work (2hr + commute) and so I was fired. I started my new job and it's much closer but I'm still completely broke, and I definitely won't have the gas money to make it to work until I get paid. Just needing the money to pull me through until my first paycheck.

This was in west central Florida in the summer of 1980, I was 12 and my best friend was 13. A carnival came to our town every summer for six weeks. Friend and I went, and got talking to the carnie that ran the dart toss. He made a comment about being hungry. We offered to run to a fast food place and pick up food for him. He gave us a few dollars extra and asked if we'd like to make some extra money over the next few weeks. He would spend the day drinking while my friend and I ran the booth. We got paid $20 cash apiece each weekend and rode whatever we wanted for free. It was (for me) a once in a lifetime experience!
Edited for grammar

I'm 30, i've went through ups and down in my life. I've had a fiance who died, i was a victim of Sexual assault, both as a kid, and as an adult.
I went through therapy. I let myself feel the ugly stuff, i pushed myself over and over until i started to get better. I went through all of that, and i'm not looking to go through it again.
Recently i dated a guy who started out quite confident about themselves. and i love that confidence, that's one of the most attractive thing to me.
I've been with a bum, with an accomplished person, with an undergraduate, with an office worker, and i have to hand it to the bum, he was the most attractive to me, cause he was confident and comfortable about who he was, and he knew what he wanted in his life.
(he eventually became my fiance, then he died of covid)
I mourned, i let myself heal, albeit, perhaps not fully. But i learned to look back at our relationship with fondness and love.
Jump back to this guy i'm dating, after a month, he's gotten quite clingy and emotional, he tends to dip in self pity, and focus on the bad stuff.
Multiple times, i told him to get help, to keep in mind that things are temporary, that it's okay to feel our loss, as long as we tell ourselves that we won't be down in the dumps forever. Change is the one thing that's constant, and i find that to be a beautiful concept.
Now, he lost his job, he lost his grandma last year, he lost his grandad about 5 years ago. and i'm trying, i'm really trying to pull him out of the rut, but sometimes the rut has more force than i do. And i end up being pulled in.
I feel like him as a person require more care and affection that what i can give. and it's just really hard for me, because i feel very guilty if i decide to cut ties with him now. (been thinking of having the talk with him today, but he lost his job, now i don't know if i should bring it up).
I'm not emotional in nature, i don't deal with emotions the way a lot of people do. I've had a lot of things go wrong in my life, and i handled it on my own, as much as i want to help the guy out, there's a large part of me that can't.
I can't stand by a guy who can't see themselves as worthy partners. I can't stand by a guy who keeps sinking down.
We've all lost something as we grow old. we all have our own baggage. We all have our hands full and kindness can only go so much.
I may be just a very selfish person who can't drop her load for someone else. I worked really hard to save myself, i've just started to recover. I can't pour from an empty cup. I have been very upfront and transparent of the type of love that i want.
It's not mushy, and clingy. It's not sweet, it's comfort. I don't want to know where the other person is daily. I don't want to be dependent on a guy. I don't want to need a guy, i want to want them. And if they want me, they'll have to be okay with that.
I never want to compromise my individuality for the sake of being in a relationship.

Hello fellow night auditors I have decided to confront my manager this morning by telling her that I am scheduled to work Saturday, Sunday Monday and alternate every Fridays and if she cannot accommodate that then I am either gonna have to put my two weeks in or just quit. I am not sure if this letter is to fourth coming or if it sends the right message of what I am trying to say hopefully you guys can give me a opinion (: thank you let me know in the comments please.. here is the letter I typed out
“Hello, boss I am writing this letter to inform you that I signed up to work Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and alternating every Friday. I understand the struggle of finding another night auditor to cover my half of the shifts but I can no longer under any circumstance continue to work outside of my regular shifted hours without any extra compensation. I understand it is a lot to think about but you do have to understand night shift is a difficult shift to work because it is not normal business hours and the hours are difficult because you have to shift your whole life around to accommodate these night hours (11 pm-7am). I have a 4 year old son who I barely have enough time for because I can not simply stay up during the day to take care of him because I am working five days a week instead of the three-four days I signed up for. As of April the 4th I will not be showing up unless I am being paid extra ( either $17.00 per hour or time and a half). If you schedule me for Tuesday, Wednesdays, or Thursday without extra pay or informing me I will not show up and I will be forced to put in a one week notice to quit. Please understand I love my job but I will not be pushed around any longer being called a team player because quite frankly I am exhausted and if I were to work my scheduled hours, I could do my job more efficiently.”

This is by far the worst decision Supercell has ever made. The dev team has lost all sense of sense and I am absolutely appalled.
The X update quite literally takes X mechanic and changes it completely. I don’t know why they changed it the way they did, but they completely flipped the concept around and makes me hate it. I’m not gonna play some stupid game when everything is always changing every two years and I have to relearn how to tie my shoes!!
Additionally, X card added in X update is completely running the Meta with no end in sight unless it is completely reverted. The thought process behind X card had to have been “how can we completely screw up the gameplay and make this experience as terrible as possible?” I just can’t believe it. I’m not gonna play some stupid game I can’t win by using Pekka Double Prince like I have been for the last five years!!
That’s not all though, today they added a new special offer that sells 2 fire spirits for $12, which is $1 more than it usually is!! I’m gonna completely lose it, this is just criminal!! I’m not gonna play some stupid game when I’m getting scammed for something I wouldn’t even buy otherwise!!
And don’t even get me STARTED on the new X Clan Feature, I hate having to do new things with my friends it just sucks. I’m not gonna play some stupid game when I have to play with my friends.
The X Update is the final nail in the coffin for Clash Royale. This is by far the worst thing that has ever happened to the game. I don't even know why supercell thought this was a good idea. For some reason they all love him and it seems like I'm the only one who hates him. I absolutely loathe the sight of him, much more the mention of his name, and coincidentally they placed him at a desk in perfect view from mine.
I stare at the back of his head from across the office, sweat beading on my forehead from holding my breath for so long. I squeeze my fists with rage and can barely hold it all in. It's been weeks since he began the training process and now he's been working here full-time for the past few days. Unbelievable. All my coworkers and bosses are head over heels in love with him. They used to all talk to me. I used to be the one they wanted to hang out with after work, the one they wanted to spend their lunch break with, the one they name their infant children after. Now, it's all about X Update. What do they even see in him? Everything terrible about him is clearly written all over that smug looking face of his. He isn't a victory for player progress, he doesn't improve QOL, he doesn't shake up the gameplay in a positive way; he's a cowardly snake who rose to the top of the corporate ladder using nothing other than cheap lies.
My coworkers surround his desk now all having a huge group conversation. Look at them all, a bunch of useless piles of trash taking up space in this cruel world we share. X Update turns to many of them, trying to make sure he talks to everyone. For a split second, he turns to someone, and our eyes lock. Just for a moment. In that moment, I see a flash of something behind his eyes. But it ends as soon as it happens.
Finally, the work day comes to a close. The sun has already begun to go down outside. I pack up my belongings, shut off my computer, and head off. Outside, a crisp breeze blows past me, my surroundings beginning to become darker with every passing minute. I get to a bus stop and sit down, waiting for around 20 minutes, before one finally shows up. The doors open, and before I can get on, the driver turns the bus off and walks out.
"Out of service" she gloomily says as she walks past me.
Beta Minions think, slang we use around the office. Now I have to walk.
It's peaceful out here. The night is just getting started.
But then, I hear it. The loud roaring of a sports car approaching from behind. The closer it gets, however, the more the car slows down, until eventually it comes to a complete stop behind me. I stop and turn around, only to be greeted with a horrifying sight. In the drivers seat of the ford Mustang, sits none other than X Update. He steps out of the car and begins to walk towards me.
"I heard what you said about me," he growls, "Drew told me. How I'm some 'terrible' idiot who doesn't deserve his job. Just who the hell do you think you are?"
I don't know what to say. All this time, I wanted to confront X Update, to tell him everything I think about him. I didn't expect he already knew I hated him, nor that he knew exactly why. I especially wasn't ready for it right now. Damnit, Drew!!
"I-I'm not wrong, you are terrible for-"
"You're sticking to that word," X Update cuts me off, "'terrible', huh? You really think I'm that kinda guy? Haha. If only you knew. That doesn't even begin to describe me. For my entire life, the demons that have haunted my very soul have laid restless awaiting their chance to finally emerge. They have been passengers viewing God's gift of life from inside my body, all for the chance to be unleashed upon anyone who dares to cross me. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, I experience the agonizing pain it takes to seal these monsters, but now, their time has come. You want me to be terrible? Fine, I'll show you terrible."
He walks back to his car, gets in, and drives off into the sunset, which has burnt the sky with a deep red-orange. I'm barely able to process what just happened. I continue on my way home.
I arrive by the time the sky has turned a pitch black save for the light pollution blanketing the sky. As I walk up to the house, however, things immediately seem off. The front door had been left wide open and all the lights are off. I run inside to find the entire place had been completely trashed. Furniture ripped and smashed, holes in the walls, and anything valuable far beyond repair. I shout out to my wife and son, yet hear no response. I stumble into the living room only to find a piece of paper neatly placed on the still intact coffee table. I pick up the paper and discover it is a note which reads: ”If you want them, come get them. No cops. -X"
I reach X Update's skyrise deluxe apartment in the city. Of course a pretentious piece of trash lives in a place like this. I bust down the door, ready to fight for mine and my family's lives, only to see X Update watching TV on the couch, his arm around my wife and my son in his lap. I get no reaction from them. I look at my wife.
"L-Louise?" I manage to stutter.
She turns her head to look at me briefly before turning back. "Oh, hey."
"Come on, let's go-"
"No, we're okay. X Update is being so loving that I think I want a divorce."
What? Wait, what did she just say? 28 years together just for her to suddenly now want a divorce out of nowhere? We've been together since high school! We went to college together, moved to Finland together, and this is how it all ends?
"What are you talking about? We're leaving now-" I try to say.
"Daddy be quiet! X Update is watching Back at the Barnyard with me and you're being loud. You never do. I don't wanna go home anymore."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. Sure, I'm not always there for my child, but we do spend a lot of time together! Why on earth does he hate me now? I stand there for a moment, in complete shock. What is going on?
X Update then turns his head to look on me, a horrifying, disgusting grin on his horrible face. He doesn't look away. He stares into my eyes and I stare back. I'm reminded of that afternoon, we locked eyes then too, just for a moment. But now, neither of us look away. We stare coldly into each others souls. What could Supercell have possibly seen in him that made them want him so bad? Why does everyone suddenly love him so much? How could a company that cared so much about its properties allow X Update to come from no where and completely ruin one of them?
Then it hit me. The reason it seems like Supercell is allowing X Update to get away with everything is because they actually want him to ruin the game. Of course. The property was never meant to last, its based purely on a concept with very little room for variety and little room to add onto and expand. After so long, the people who work with this property have been getting bored by the stale, repetitive systems at play. Of course they have, It's been nearly seven years since the property opened up. But what I've failed to realize is that this can't be something exclusive to the customers, but is experienced by the developers too! Working on the same things year after year has to be exhausting. They feel like they're at a dead end with no where left to go. They so desperately want to work on something else, especially the other properties which by design are significantly more interesting and engaging than this one. But they can't! The past success of this property has set the bar so high that they practically have no other choice but to continue strangling their customers for every last penny against their will! They want nothing more than to quit, but they're stuck. So their solution was to bring on this obviously destructive and unpredictable recruit, shoot him to the top so he could hire others like him, until they inevitably burn the entire thing to the ground.
It's not like they have any other option either. Despite this property receiving such little traffic compared to what it used to, there are still large numbers of people supporting the property. They want it to succeed and genuinely enjoy what it has to offer. If Supercell shut it down right now, they'd be met with outrage so severe that it could possibly reignite its former customer base to rally against Supercell and practically force them to keep the property open! And then, the employees would continue suffering for long after. But if they were to slowly but surely ensure that people begin to exit out of the property faster out of hatred for what the game has become, it limits the remaining days of the property's existence to become smaller and smaller, all the while managing to maximize its profit while they still can by practically convincing people to spend more money. It's genius.
I remember coming across the property for the first time. I was much younger and had no developer experience. I loved what I saw and thought the absolute world of it. I had so many good times with it. I cherish those fond memories and hold them close to my heart. It doesn't matter how much X Update takes away from me on Supercell's behalf. I will always have those memories of the good days. Even if the property gets shut down now, at least I can remember the feelings from those days and smile. It was a good run, but now it's time for me to move on. I still have so much life left to live on this planet, I should be looking at new things, having new experiences, meeting new people! Not holding on to a sinking ship.
I smile at X Update. A genuine, heartfelt smile. He can take my family, my friends, my work; but he'll never take my memories.
"Goodbye," I say.
And the Pass Royale features are absolutely horrible. I hate how they took out the free X reward that requires a lot of playtime to earn and put it in the paid pass. What absurdity. I'm not gonna play some stupid game when the developers are almost begging me to give them their money!!
Dead game, I hate Supercell, I'm never playing this game again. I had fun while it lasted.
Edit: I've been bored at work, I'll probably go back on just to see what's new, maybe play a few matches. But I'm definitely not coming back-full time.

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