I’ll try to make this short as I am unsure of what to do at this point although the answer is very clear but everything is easier said than done right? But anyways! My brother moved into my husband and I’s home a year and 2 months ago. Stupidly it was my idea. He moved from California to Arizona which is a huge change for anyone especially being single with no friends. In the beginning everything was alright I suppose. I’ll get to the point. It has been a literal nightmare. Barely helps around the house, doesn’t respect the house, is immature, annoying, drinks excessively, is always trauma dumping, can’t read the room. I’ve repeated numerous times to him of several incidents and always has the excuse that he’s just so tired from work but the most recent one health issues and his mental state. I’ll give one example of what the last straw was for me. Over the weekend my husband and I went over a friends house to get in their pool. We had drove there with the idea of leaving the car there since we where going to be drinking so we did. We Ubered back home and decide to continue drinking and listen to some music. It was already midnight maybe . About an hour later we start getting calls from family members. We ignore the calls. They decide to call again. My husband finally answers because now we’re a little worried that they’re calling so late. My brother is blacked out at the bar and security is about to call the cops if no one picks him up soon. Ubers won’t take him since he’s so wasted. My husband is drunk out of his mind already. I’m a little more sober than him but still drunk but conscious enough to tell him “no you are not driving to pick him up ! That’s his issue ! You are not risking a DUI for him ! It’s not worth it. At this point one of my sisters is screaming at the top of her lungs to my husband to pick him up. I’m like nope nope idc no this is his issue! I’m livid at this point!! I try to come up with solutions and decide to have my husband call one of the our very good neighbors who are also our very good friends. Thank god they where awake. They take us to pick my brother up. Soon as we get to the bar my brother is covered in throw up and clearly unaware of anything, extremely wasted! I’m angry !!! Next day acts like nothing happens. My husband decides to have a talk with him. Husband says he acted like he didn’t give a shit about what scene he caused and obviously had an excuse as he always does. Idk what to do at this point this is not the first incident and I know it won’t be the last. I know the obvious answer is to kick him out. But i can’t seem to follow through with it because stupidly both my husband and I feel sorry for him . Any advice would help 😭😭 Also fyi he is 34 I’m 31 Husband is 35 Idk if that matters

I have a non refundable nonchangebale flight but recently found out a friend died and would like to get home one day earlier to attend the funeral. If I buy a new ticket is this something chase travel insurance covers?

Pre-Global Outbreak Hershel Greene's farm has been in his family for 160 years. (Bloodletting) Hershel left home at age 15 and didn't return for his father's funeral. (18 Miles Out) He is an alcoholic. He drank heavily at the local bar every night until Maggie was born, and then he quit cold turkey. His first wife, Josephine, bought back his grandfather's pocket watch when he became sober, which he'd pawned long ago to pay for his drinking habits. (Nebraska) Dale Horvath and his wife, Irma, suffered a miscarriage. Before she lost the baby, Irma spent that Thanksgiving in misery from the meat aversions she was suffering. (Secrets) Irma Horvath developed cancer and later succumbed to her disease. (Wildfire) Daryl and Merle Dixon's mother died in a house fire; at the time, Daryl was old enough to ride a bicycle, and Merle was under 18. (Hounded) When he was under 12 years old, Daryl got lost in the woods and eventually found his own way home. (Triggerfinger) Merle sometimes made Daryl donate his blood for money. (Rest in Peace) Michonne is at school with her friend Jocelyn. (Scars) When he was in high school, Shane Walsh once stole the principal's car at lunch hour and filled it with chicken feed before getting back to school in time to finish his sandwich before the bell rang. (Save the Last One) Rick Grimes and his son, Carl, used to go on walks through the neighborhood when Carl was three years old. (Worth) Andrea Harrison's father gave her a gun to protect her and her sister, Amy, as they left for their road trip not long before the outbreak. (What Lies Ahead) Philip Blake lost his wife in a car accident 18 months before the outbreak started. (Killer Within) Terminus member Martin used to watch football games with friends on Sundays. He also attended church regularly. (No Sanctuary) Glenn had moved to Atlanta where he found employment as a pizza delivery boy. It was during this period where he gained insightful knowledge regarding the city streets and layout. Jim lived in Atlanta with his family and he was an auto mechanic specialized in vehicle repair. Theodore Douglas played football in college, and was given the nickname 'T-Dog'. 131 days before the Global Outbreak, the Wildfire virus begins reanimating corpses. Its existence is unknown to the general public. (Wildfire) Lucille discovers she has cancer and that her husband Negan is having an affair. Shootout day Rick Grimes and Shane discuss Rick's family. No mention of zombies. (Days Gone Bye) Rick and Shane engage in a shootout. Rick gets shot and passes out. (Days Gone Bye) Outside Carl's school, Lori Grimes and her friend, Paula, talk about Lori's relationship with Rick. Shane arrives and tells Lori that Rick has been shot and is in the hospital. Lori relays this information to Carl as Shane looks on. (Bloodletting) After the shootout day Shane visits Rick in the hospital with flowers. (What Lies Ahead) Lori and Carl then visit Rick in the hospital. Carl offers to give Rick blood. (Nebraska)

I am not providing any advice nor condoning any mental health decisions made without the supervision and council of medical professionals. This post recounts my struggles with involuntary suicidal ideation but does not encourage, condone, or glorify self-harm.
If you're in crisis, go to the ER, call emergency services, or a crisis hotline. There are people who can help.
So my journey with mental health and various diagnoses is long, and I feel that sharing my multiple diagnoses and their timelines is essential to my story. That said, I'll try to be brief (no promises).
I seemed like a relatively normal kid until around the age of 3. I was difficult to potty train (I have memories from that time, which was traumatic for me and my mom). I believe this is due to my ongoing struggles with interoception. My family was also concerned about my delayed speech development. I am the youngest of 24 grandchildren and was often doted on as a child. For years my family just assumed that my development was delayed during that time because everyone did everything for me and that I lacked any need to speak for myself or toilet train because people spoke for me and found that changing me was less of a fight than trying to deal with outbursts with potty training. Then, I suddenly went from hardly speaking to one day speaking in complete sentences far beyond what other children my age could.
By age 4, my parents felt I was hyperactive and unruly. My dad, being a pharmacist, thought I should see a pediatric shrink to see about some stimulants as he had been diagnosed with ADHD and was hoping to get me treatment as early on as possible.
For the most part, nothing changed until I was 12. By this point, my family and I had spent the better part of 7 years jumping from stimulant to stimulant to control my seemingly uncontrollable nature. It was at this point in time that we decided I should have a complete Neuro-psych evaluation. At this time, I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, bipolar tendencies, and dysgraphia, but not ADHD. I was put on enough Seroquel to tranquilize a horse and gained 40 pounds in about 4 months.
It took me a long time to learn to accept this diagnosis as a kid, and I didn't want to be seen as the "kid from Parenthood" or as Rainman.
At age 14, I was hospitalized at a pediatric psych ward for 9 days. I wasn't keeping up with the medications I had been prescribed (pretty sure it was bupropion), which caused violent mood swings. I was struggling. I was relentlessly bullied for my lack of social skills, being overweight, and effeminate demeanor. I was called every homophobic and neurodivergent slur, often in front of faculty. My peers would throw rotting food at me on my walk home from school. I had no friends and had lost all hope in the public school system. It got to the point where I decided to take matters into my own hands as I felt that the adults could no longer protect me in this environment.
I now know there were better ways to handle my situation and that I had more options at my disposal, but nevertheless, I chose to say something that would ensure that I would never have to return to public school ever again. The school district learned of the negligence from the staff, and my expulsion was lifted. I would be allowed to return to school the following year. In the meantime, I was to attend class at the district office with a personal instructor, away from my peers (thank god).
My mom decided to investigate various private schools for kids both exclusively on the spectrum, and more broadly affected by various neurodivergencies. I shadowed these schools and attended each one for a week. I concluded that their resources would be wasted on me as I knew other kids needed their services more than I and would feel guilty if I took that from someone who needed it more.
After attending these schools, I decided it was up to me to learn to adapt to the world around me, and I dove into teaching myself social skills, masking techniques, coping skills, healthy living, and mindfulness. I returned to in-person instruction after earning my GED at 17 and immediately proceeded to college.
At 17, I had another evaluation completed to fulfill the accommodation requirements at a community college. At that time, I was then diagnosed (by the same clinician) with Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD, and Dysgraphia. My psychiatric team now lacked the bipolar suspicion, as they believed those symptoms, at age 12, resulted from a poor home life.
And to be honest, until I turned 19, I was fine. I had been unmedicated without issue since I was 16. I was working at the college bookstore during rush week, I got a student-elected job as a club liaison, my grades were good enough for me, and I learned to buckle down when needed. I had grown, made friends, finally found myself at a healthy weight, got involved with student government, and "become popular," and while I wasn't the most dedicated student, I was progressing. I felt proud of myself.
That would all soon change. After beginning to doubt my decision to study physics (as many people had told me that it would result in more debt than I could afford and likely working in IT/CompSci like every other physics Ph.D. wannabe). I decided to change majors to Data science and move away to a full-fledged university. I hated my studies and struggled with large classrooms. I moved in with two other students who were complete strangers in an apartment off-campus. My eyes had been opened. I was not ready. I struggled with time management, public transportation, and social isolation. And then, before I knew it, I would be hit with perhaps the most distressing symptom I've ever experienced.
Disclaimer: The following paragraph contains my experiences with involuntary suicidal ideation and visual OCD. Its purpose is to shed light on my experience with mental health. It is by no means a glorification of, or encouragement to attempt, any form of self-harm. I will not go into graphic detail about what I saw and continue to see, as it is unnecessary and potentially triggering to others.
This is when the symptoms, which I now understand to be visual OCD, began. I would start to see the aftermath of my own demise regularly. At first, I would attempt to reason it away. After all, I'm happy, intelligent, and more emotionally aware than ever. But the flashes of horrific imagery continued to become more graphic and frequent, causing me to become increasingly distressed by the day. I didn't want to die, so how could I be seeing these things? It got to the point where I didn't know what to do. I was at my wit's end and felt like I was losing my mind.
I decided to see a campus NP once I had begun to fail all my classes, and he very abrasively diagnosed me with Bipolar Depression and ADHD, concluding that I was never on the spectrum. I got a medical withdrawal, my term was refunded, and I felt like a failure. I would then go on to take my classes online the following semester, but as my grades began to slip and with little hope for a brighter future, I withdrew again.
I would then dive head-first into a relationship with another man to run from my problems. I moved almost 1500 miles away from my family to be with him, and I had hoped that if I ran fast enough, my problems wouldn't keep up. This flawed thinking blinded me from the issues within the relationship and encouraged me to ignore red flags about my now ex-partner.
At 22, after trying to ignore my visual OCD for the better part of 3 years and missing the glaring issues, I finally fell into the most profound depression of my life. Despite trying online education again (and barely meeting my credit requirements), I was constantly ill, depressed, and often unwilling to get out of bed. My relationship had been falling apart since we had moved in together, and I had grown tired of running away.
My ex-partner was unexposed to mental health struggles before being with me, and rightfully assessing that it was not his responsibility to be my caretaker, he gave me an ultimatum. Either I do something about it or go home and let my family take over. I decided to try a few medications I had been on in the past based on my mom's best recollection of what was most effective growing up. No success.
Six months later, I finally came clean about the hallucinations/flashes when my best friend took her own life. I couldn't risk keeping this secret any longer if I was to have any chance of making it. I had to persevere. For myself, for my family, for her.
By this point, I had been on almost every class of drug used to treat mental illness, excluding MAOIs and tricyclics. I needed something different and fast.
That's when I learned about ketamine infusions for depression from my mentor. He encouraged me to go to a clinic and see if they felt I was a good candidate. I was, and it's the best treatment I've ever received. I'm fortunate that I can afford it with the help of my family's financial support.
I had found relief from the visual OCD and gained clarity regarding my relationship. Over Thanksgiving of 2022, I broke things off with him and moved back in with my folks. I have been continuing my treatment here, and my new psychiatrist finally revealed that I have OCD, ADHD, and ASD. He also told me that depression and anxiety are accessories to these other issues.
My treatments have been helping more than anything has in the past. But now more than ever, I feel like I'm still struggling with the fallout of the last 5 years. I think I've wasted precious time and let naivety dictate my decisions for far longer than reasonable.
I've been enrolled in online school for the last year and a half in a program I love, but I've lagged behind. Lacking the motivation to continue and feeling ill-equipped to confront the road ahead of me, I'm stalling.
I know I'm bright, but I feel it's unearned when people talk about me in high regard. I don't feel I've accomplished anything when I complete a course ahead of schedule. I don't feel happiness in success, and I struggle to carry out my goals.
I'm still struggling to take care of myself. Keeping my surroundings clean and organized, maintaining a consistent sleep schedule (even when practicing seemingly perfect sleep hygiene), bathing myself, socializing with others, and managing my time all feel like ginormous tasks on their own (let alone maintaining all of them simultaneously).
I often wonder... "What happened to me?" "I was doing so well." "How did things get to this point?" "I want things to go back to how they were."
The last 6 months have been the best I've been in 5 years, but it's still hard. There's so much to do, so much to relearn.
When I returned to my home city, my friends had all moved on. I tried to make new friends by joining a league at a local pool hall (billiards is a passion of mine), but I couldn't make a good connection with any of them. The things I used to love, like video games, mountain biking, billiards, music, scripting projects, and drawing, are all met with anhedonia.
I'm seeing a therapist, and it's helping some, but I still feel like cogs and gears are missing from my clock. Pieces are missing from the puzzle. I feel unwhole. I want to live up to "my potential" and have something to feel proud of, but I feel anxious and self-conscious whenever I pursue an activity. I want to do things again.
Part of me wonders if I even have the proper diagnosis, if there's something we still don't know about. I have a hard time trusting that mental health professionals that diagnose and prescribe can help me anymore because they've all had a different idea of what I have, with no new ideas for treating my mental illness.
I keep trudging along, trying to find joy in the process, but I can't help but feel the weight of the tasks ahead. I know results-based thinking isn't sustainable, but when you feel like you're stagnating in the process, it's hard not to feel hopeless for the years to come.
I'm not suicidal, but I'm beginning to question what all this is even for. I'm unlikely I'll ever find complete relief from my symptoms. Life is probably going to keep being hard. I'm just hoping that one day all this work and dedication will pay off, the other shoe will drop, and I'll finally find meaning and joy in life.
Until then, I'll keep persevering with the ebbs and flows, trying to maintain whatever kind of good habits and routine I can until I feel comfortable enough to try adding something new.
Hopefully, this post doesn't get flagged, as I actually found typing this out pretty therapeutic. We aren't alone in our struggles.
There's hope out there... I think. Maybe not now, but hopefully, the page will turn, and the sun will shine for a brighter tomorrow.
Edited for improved reading clarity.

It was already a thing that he wasn't supposed to be on his phone. It's not new for him to (be allowed) to be up late, but he took the phone from the open spot where I put it -- which he gave me to keep away from him and I didn't want to treat him like he couldn't be trusted so I left on the dining table. He went to bed after a shower where my husband was supposedly too distracted by his video game to notice him hiding under the covers for four hours.
I couldn't believe that he waltzed himself into my room and when I asked him what he'd been doing, he looked at me knowing I knew and said "The same thing you're doing." I decided to call him a "bad boy" for the first time in his life because a) he wasn't at all reacting to my exaggerated shocked-disappointed face and b) I thought that would really carry weight with him. Then I realized: I don't know how to repairecover after that.
He thinks it's not fair that Mom and Dad are up late doing the same thing that sometimes he's not allowed to do and sometimes he is. There's no consistency and I have reasons I can't provide it (my husband, shocker). It doesn't matter how many times we have that (and any other) conversation, it's all new all over again. He will play by himself, but he acts like he's being rejected when I tell him to do that. I play with him sometimes but I need alone time. When I initiate play with him he reacts like dogs do when you visit them in their homes: they are attention-starved and food-starved and need to be rescued immediately. I would rather play with him outdoors and he acts like a true crybaby about joining me anywhere that isn't exciting, complaining until I get so frustrated that I want to leave (and then suddenly he's into it). He reminds me of my husband in more than one way.
...And I have no support from husband/dad in making changes to bedtime or screens. He won't even help our son transition from sleeping in his bed to my son's own bed. [Deleted two paragraph additional info because I know you guys will just believe that I, too, know this is fucked, and am doing my best.] We've been to therapy. Therapists have told me to leave either in so many words (ours and mine) or directly (his). It's not a new idea and I have struggles about that.
If I want our son off or limited screens (and it's already summer) then I have to personally entertain him or be constantly interrupted by him because he can't play by himself for sometimes more than 5 minutes at a time, other times it's about 20. He tries everything he can think of to get me to join him in whatever he's doing or needs to show me everything. Screens are all he wants to talk about or plan for. He complains about leaving the house. He wants to know when he will be able to use screens again if we or he is playing with toys, out of the house, or if I've taken one away. He generally does what I say to but has been arguing more recently, and he gets confused while he's arguing what we are even talking about: he just knows he doesn't want to do a real life activity and if he does, he thinks it should be with me. My husband will not play with him at any time except to take him to the pool or playground or some other place that I recommend, which are thankfully now about three-four evenings of the week. It's the only daylight alone time I have from living in the shitty. I don't know how to tell my son to leave us both alone because he just comes right back and I've lost my temper and hate that. My husband and other people criticize me for his need to be around me but nobody can tell me what it is I'm doing wrong or have done wrong or can change other than rejecting him more.
I would like to back off from giving that attention but feel like both that it's my duty to be warm and accepting, especially finding learning opportunities, and I also feel like an asshole when I redirect him because it feels more like rejecting him when he turns around and comes back for a hug or is suddenly needing something or walks off acting sullen. I feel so angry when he comes right back to me because it feels like it never ends so then I start to agree that I'm doing it wrong or I've already done something wrong; I don't know if I'm supposed to be giving him somewhere closer to all the attention he wants or supposed to make myself on the other end of unavailable. With all three of us having ADHD and being very talkative, any one of us is likely to forget we are supposed to be doing something else so sticking to a schedule is added stress that causes chaos rather than routine. I need strategies, recommendations, canned responses, and to know what is worth trying or trying in a new way. Either way, it's on me while at home to try to keep him entertained and not thinking about all the videogames my husband is playing throughout the day. I have him enrolled in all the summer camps and we do at least a couple of weekly evening activities, which by the way, he says he doesn't want to go to until the end -- because he'd rather be on screens.
But tonight just felt like a preview of dealing with a kid who is constantly in trouble, it felt like going from 'ok he always has difficulties remembering the rules and sometimes he breaks them because of some extenuating circumstance or confusion' to 'my kid will lie and my husband doesn't care so he's just going to do it more and my choice is to be the bad guy or the super bad guy.' I don't know what to say to him tomorrow. I know my parents would have grounded me and given me the cold shoulder, told me I'm not trustworthy, and that's about how they kept it my entire childhood. I don't want to do that. Where is the "send a fairy grandma" flair?

So, I'm feeling an itch to try and do another crossover, this time with Frostpunk of all things. Thus, I am gonna try it. However I must state some thing. In this universe, as the date Frostpunk is set in. Or at least, The scenario "A new home" is happening in. Is somewhere during 1886 to 87. And the invention of the Nukes are during 1933. So for all intents and purposes, The Federation never stumbled upon humanity. At least, in a way they stumble upon them so much earlier than they should. This way, the feds never had a reason to exterminate the species in the first place. They didn't know they existed.
In terms of things regarding the Laws of New London. In this story, both Order and Faith are mixed together. The laws leading to Faith Keepers and The Temple are signed as well as the laws leading to Patrols and Foremen. As for Adaptation laws. Child Labor, Extended Shift, Soup, Extra rations for the Ill, Prosthetics, Ceremonial funerals, Public house. Nearly everything is researched.

For the purpose of the City, they haven't crossed the Line yet. But as any who played the game knows. The other side of the Line is so tempting. So very, very tempting.

Memory Transcript: Felix Hawthorn - Captain, leader of the last City
Date: [standardized human time]: Day 47
I can no longer see the lights out there. The Little fires and candles that lit up the city. The houses are all but covered in ice. The automatons are barely managing to work through the frigid winds. I turn to check the thermometer, even in my office. Built at the base of the Generator. The winds could reach me through the cracks in the walls. I blinked the ice out of my eyes as my vision locks with the thermometer. "Negative... 150 degrees..." I croaked out. Speaking aloud as I slowly turned to face the cloak on the wall.
To my bewilderment, and amazement. It was still turning away. Even when frost threatened to break it. Just a few more hours... just a few more...
I weakly lifted my arm, If I survive. It'll need amputating. I couldn't even feel the burning cold that was coating its' senses yesterday.
No guardsmen, Faith Keeper, or anyone has came to alert me to anything new... The infirmaries were the only buildings with enough warmth for people to at the very least. Feel chilly... Heh... "Should probably go to one..." I shiver at I felt Jack Frost threaten to tear my insides apart, speaking my thoughts won't help much... thinking things out will keep me focused...
I can't go to a Infirmary. We have no space for a new one to be built, nor do we have enough space for everyone... Thus, here I sit. In my chair. Watching the frost grow on my windows... I pray to myself, that whoever plunged us in this Frozen Hell. Would have mercy on the children and the elderly
As the glass in my window gets overgrown in ice and snow, I slowly close my eyes. And lay back. If this is the end of the human race as we know it... I rather sleep through it than see the results. I already wrote down notes so whomever finds me, will know what to do.
Sleep takes me, the frost won't win that battle at least. In the realms of Dreams. I'm sitting under the warm sun, my daughter and son playing in the grass not too far from me. My wife and I play a game, pointing out the different shapes the clouds made in the sky...
​
There is a pirate ship... a bird... that's a whale... "No, silly. That's a dolphin!" she'd laugh, I would respond with a chortle and a "Well, when you're right, you're right."
Such warmth... It's not even that warm in actuality, it is as average a day as any other... but I feel so... warm.
---------
Memory Transcript: Jannim, Junior Venlil explorer
Date: [standardized human time]: Day 47
I shivered as the ship struggles to handle the temperature of this planet. Of course, sometimes a explorer will never come back. Be it through running into Predators, a error in the systems. Or just bad luck. But I never thought it would happen to me.
I boot up the terminal, thankful it still worked at least. "Explorer Log 21. Jannim. Horkle, our exterminator. Succumbed to the wounds he sustained during the crash. Day 7 after the crash, our pilot, Thalk and captain Fonn still haven't came in from checking on the damages the ship sustained when the storm hit us. Should've left when we noticed it but no... we just had to be heroes to a race we don't even know how to find." I panted as I glanced to the ships' walls. Thanks to the ship I'm alive, but how long will the power last? If Fonn and Thalk were still alive out there... I took a deep breath and continue the log "The captain and pilot left the ship sometime yesterday, to check on external damages and on the engines.-" A growl from the predator-like winds stole my attention away.
You survived a Arxur raid, and this is how you go out? Fearing for your life because of alien nature?
Yes, I was...
​
I take a bite out of my emergency rations, the blandness of it was much better than the chill in the air. "-I-if anyone finds this, leave this planet. Don't go looking for the natives, LEAVE. Before the scans broke down, it appears the planet is gonna undergo various storms similar to the one I am in. Leave at once and mark the planet down as a Deathtrap." I managed to keep myself from stuttering as I continued the message "The planet itself seems predatory, if this is anything to go by. I believe the natives of this planet will have succumbed to the frost during this storm. If not this one, then the next one. Or the one after that. However long it takes. Nothing should be able to survive such harsh winds in this temperature."
I stop myself, taking a few deep breaths, then another bite of my ration. "... If you're stationed near Venlil Prime. Please, find Pallhen. He's my father... tell him... I love him, and that I'm with Mother now." I choke past a tear as I looked to the systems. "Looks like the lights are about to fail, if the controls are anything to go by. Even if the pilot and captain return. We won't be able to even launch... Final log of Junior Explorer Jannim. Protector watch over us." I sighed before ending the Log. Left in silence, I listened to the predatory-storm beat on the ship. And watch Horkles' corpse lay on the medical table of our ship.
Silently counting the emergency rations, and what regular rations we have left. I would last around a week. Perhaps longer if I space my meals out... I think I'll just keep my meals as is, having to do with spacing meals out will just raise my hopes... Can't really have that if this storm lasts much longer.
I resumed eating my ration as I try to guess what the natives were like before this planet became a great, big, Temperature Predator. ------------------------------------------------ Memory Transcript: Felix Hawthorn - Captain, leader of the last City
Date: [standardized human time]: Day 48
"Captain!" A harsh voice awakens me, I use my one good arm to push the Faith Keepers' hands off me. He was apparently shaking me awake. "I'm up, I'm up!" I cried out as I sighed. I could see the relief worm its way onto Brother Collins' face. "Captain. We made it" he exclaimed as a mix of relief and pure joy radiates from his face to his voice. I grumbled in tired bewilderment as I turned to look at the thermometer.
"The storm has passed!" Collin cheered as I mentally froze at the sight on the Thermometer on the wall. -20 degrees Celsius... "Brother Collin! don't just stand there!" I cried out as I stand up with as much my renewed vigor would allow me. Causing the Faith-keeper to freeze in place. "Get out there, and tell the Guards to check the people, check them yourself it you have to. I need information on how our population handled this storm before we move forward!" I shout my orders at Collin, before grabbing my scarf off my neck. The ice still hasn't thawed off my scarf but... I fashion it into a sling for my arm "I'll be here after I have my arm amputated. Can't die now after all we went through." I allow a slight snicker escape my lips as I walk out the doors of my office and marched to the nearest infirmary. I could hear Collin run out of the office shortly after me and went off to find the guards, check families. Maybe both.
To my relief, the infirmary I first arrived at had a place open for me. Due to overcrowding, I was given a seat on the floor. And now... here I wait, listening to the doctors and nurses comfort and calm the ill and wounded. A few shot nasty glares at me... I'd like to see them try and prepare the city for a storm like that. I think I did pretty well... ---A few hours later.--- "So... we're at 307 able bodies, a hundred dead. Five missing. And finally, 246 amputees" I stated to the Head guardsmen, Matthew Williams. And there beside him stood high Priest Jenkins Anderson. "Moral will go up of course, everyone who survived the storm will feel nothing but joy for a while. But now we have to deal with reverting the city to what it was before the storm." I point to Matthew with my newly attached arm, the claw couldn't point fingers but it works when I need to grab something. I shift to point at Anderson as this was for them both to do. "Spread word that we are sending hunters back out and are putting the hothouses back up. I want scouts looking through the wilderness for anything they can find out there. We're not out of the storm yet" I declared as I brought my prosthetic back down. "Take stock of what rations we currently have, and spread them out as much as you can to the population. Send word to the Factory to start churning out Prosthetics... And when you have the scouts ready, inform me." Mister Williams saluted me before leaving the office, while Anderson stays there, watching me... "Did... the two come back?" I asked him, the silent shake of his head told me everything... "We don't have the bodies... find out the name of that father and his daughter, then make a pair of graves for them." Anderson nods and with a respectful bow, stepped out the door.
Finally left to my thoughts, I sat back in my chair. Staring at my desk. So many lives lost... I did what I could, but should I have done better? I could have done better... they are all dead because of me, how many of them were parents?... how many children?
I sat in silence as I start a prayer to the dead. Praying they forgive me for failing them. Praying again that they pass on to a place better than where we are. And finally, Praying that someone up there actually is listening...
Once my prayers were done, I looked to the reports brother Collin had placed on my desk during my time in the Infirmary. Apparently something had crashed during the start of the great storm. There was something flying out there... Going by the calculations the engineers did under Collins' request. The crash is relatively close by... a three day travel on foot, two via riding one of the automatons through the days and night.
I stand from my desk and walk out the door, Paying some mind to a picture of my wife on my way out. I had to be one of the scouts. For this at the very least... if there is some hope there is a survivor out there, if the father and his daughter is there... I have to be certain... we have enough automatons and able bodies to use the coal mines and coal thumpers. And after the storm, I do not believe we required the other laws. I'll leave the high priest in charge until my return. Matthews is a good man but... Anderson is the more compassionate of the two. He'll keep up the moral while I'm away.
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This wasn't a lot, but hey. Hope you liked the introduction. If anyone has any questions regarding New London in the story, please feel free to ask. If anyone has anything to just say, feel free to share your thoughts.

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