Beauty supplies near me open

I hope this is the right place and someone can tell me what may have been going on in my village. I moved here a few weeks ago. It's a small village in the heart of Russia and my parents and I came here because things start to get really bad in Moscow and my father lost his job. I don't know why we had to move to this isolated village, so far away from civilization. Maybe my parents wanted peace and quiet? To escape the things in that city, the poisoned minds?
The houses here had all been far below average in price. Almost everyone who lives here has moved here recently.
But, there are crazy rumors about this village that people tell each other. It was found abandoned in the mid-nineties. Where everyone went, no one knows. They say that no signs of people were found at all, nothing. But... everywhere in and around the village… strange patches of earth had been discovered, circular and smooth. Not only in the forest or on the road, but also in the dilapidated wooden houses. At our new neighbors' house, one of the mysterious spots had supposedly been found right in the living room floor, where the floorboards had been just cut away.
These rumors scare me. I am afraid of this village. But yesterday... I was redoing the floor in my room with my father and there... I found a notebook under the old boards. I hid it from my father, I don't know why... Someone must have left it there.
Last night... that's when I read it. I read it and now I'm incredibly afraid of this house and this village. Of the fields and the woods that surround me. The notebook apparently belonged to someone called Ilya Vasiliev. I have tried to translate what he wrote, hoping that someone here can help me find an explanation for the rumors. For this uneasy feeling that I have since I moved here...
***********
I am fine. I want that to be clear from the beginning. My story is strange and in huge parts troubling, but I am still in the best state of mental health.
I am fine!
My story begins seven months ago, in December 1979, when deep winter was upon our village. We were preparing for Christmas, the first Christmas to be celebrated publicly throughout the village, after years of having to practice our faith in secret because the Soviet government did not allow religions. Only in the last few years did the Reds' view loosen and they allowed small islands of faith. One of them was my village, which finally dared to celebrate and praise the Lord.
I have been a believer all twenty years of my life, an exemplary Christian, just like my parents. Faith had kept our family line alive in times of terror and misery. Death had always been close to us, as the fields where most of the population of our village had worked for generations had once brought the end of hundreds of people. Many years ago, on those fields, atrocities had occurred that had finally given them their present name: The Fields of Death.
I myself had not been born back then, not by a long shot, but my grandparents had spent their childhood there, a childhood full of hunger and depravity. My grandfather Fomenko often told me and my sister the stories he had experienced and how faith had saved everyone. There had been a long, cold winter and the grain had been confiscated by the government to be taken to the cities for distribution. After all, the grain belonged to all the people, not just those on the farms who planted it, tended to it, and harvested it. And so, the only food of that time left my grandfather's village and never came back. Some of his neighbors had once tried to hold back some grain, to hide some sacks, but when they were caught, a hail of bullets determined their fate. People lived in fear, not daring to stop working, not daring to keep for themselves the food that was destined for the common good. In those days, horrors happened in my village that I cannot truly picture today, not even when I hear my grandfather's usually clear voice begin to tremble. When I see in his eyes that he would rather forget, in order to experience a peaceful sleep once again… someday.
He told us about those horrors to warn us of how quickly life can plunge from safety into infinite terror. Winter had reigned. The grain was being hauled away. They still shot all those who tried to keep back pieces of it, be it a sack or some husks that had fallen from a cart. In time, hunger began to drive people in our village insane. Parents locked up their children so they wouldn't be taken by neighbors to feed their hunger. Friends turned their backs on each other and killed each other in fights for the last livestock that was still breathing. The streets reeked of decay and death, of misery and suffering. One day, my grandfather told us, he had hidden in the back room of his house while his parents dragged themselves, emaciated, to the fields to pick the last scraps of grain from the furrows with their dirty, half-frozen fingers. He had come across a book there, a book that had saved his life.
The word of God. An old Bible.
My grandfather had learned to read at an early age, one of the sad advantages of living in the Soviet Union.
It was in the room I now live in that Grandfather Fomenko had found the dusty book. Actually, he had been looking for something to eat, the days before he had found some sawdust. But despite his hunger and the grumbling in his stomach, eating the book was out of the question. Books were sacred, and no book as sacred as this one. He had begun to read and learned about the greatness of the Lord. Of the miracles his Son had performed. And of the magic of faith. His stomach had growled, but he had ignored it. The words gave him comfort.
The next day he immersed himself in the book again, disappearing into better worlds and times, hearing wisdom and encouragement. But around noon there was a knock at the door. My grandfather emphasized each time that he had not been afraid, that he had known that the Lord would protect him, when the old neighbor gained entrance to our house armed with a cleaver. It was clear what he wanted: Meat. My grandfather told us each time about how the neighbor had looked more undead than human, stinking and with sunken eyes, smelling like death from his mouth, the cleaver trembling in his hand.
"I'm sorry, boy," was all the man could get out.
My grandfather tried to mimic this poor man’s voice at the end of his wits, to express his pain through words so that we understood that poor fellow a little.
The Lord's words had given courage to my grandfather in his most terrible moments. He had stood up and firmly said:
"Away with you, the Lord protects the inhabitants of this house!"
But the intruder did not care, coming closer. And so, my grandfather again sought comfort and prayed. He prayed for mercy and peace and for his life. He would serve the Lord for the rest of his days. Trust Him blindly.
Suddenly, like a gruesome miracle, the famished intruder let out an inhuman groan and collapsed, lifeless and debilitated. There had been no hunger for my grandfather and his family for a week after that. My grandfather had been praying to the Lord since that day, thanking Him for His mercy. The story spread around the village and out of desperation or hope, in the next few days everyone secretly knelt in front of small wooden crosses they had made themselves and prayed to the Lord. A week later, like a miracle, the long-awaited delivery of grain arrived, along with spring. There had not been another bad time since then.
These events are the reason for the faith in our village... and our family. The psalm my grandfather had prayed as the hungry neighbor attacked had become the guiding psalm of our faith. All these years we had not been able to celebrate Christmas with the other families, but since the restrictions on faith communities had been relaxed, we had all finally decided to celebrate the holy festival in the village square. And so, we started the preparations.
There, in those evening hours, my part of the story begins. I and my younger sister Zarina, together with other youths and young adults, were fetching wood for the fire that was to burn in the center of our village. So, we went out into the night, dressed with thick pelts, to fetch logs from the edge of the fields that some men had prepared.
My breath could be seen as an icy breeze in the dawning darkness and I was already looking forward to dancing around the fire with everyone later, drinking good drinks and eating sumptuously. I was glad that we didn't have to walk across the fields themselves, but could stroll along their edge to get the logs.
You can feel death when it has hit a place. I was glad that I didn't have to work the fields myself, and had learned the carpentry trade. Therefore, I was spared from having to wander around there every day, among the echoes of past atrocities and sadness.
We were all in good spirits, strolling over the muddy ground, when all at once Zarina pointed up and into the clear night sky.
"Look, an angel is descending!" she exclaimed excitedly.
We all looked to where her outstretched hand pointed. A round light glowed in the night sky, glaring yellowish and shining strangely cold.
"It's singing! At Christmas! The Lord puts our feast under his sign!" Zarina cried.
We stopped and listened into the silence of the night. At first, I could hear nothing, at first, everything remained quiet, and only the distant beating of axes and the rustling of the wind in the treetops were audible.
But then, there in the wind, I could hear it, briefly but clearly. It was a kind of melodic whisper, joyful, yet also strange and otherworldly. It was heard only very briefly, and soon died away as the glow flew out of sight and disappeared somewhere far away.
"Let's go find the angel! Let's..." Zarina cried, continuing excitedly, but I interrupted her.
"We have to get the wood. We can report back to the village later, if it hasn't already been noticed there too," I said.
"You heard the singing! Surely that was an angel. Shall we leave it there? It may have gotten hurt, it must have hit something!" Sasha murmured.
Sasha was my oldest friend and one of the boys who worked on the fields. He had always been very caring and had always tried to help where he could. His parents were long dead and the old lady who had raised him was no longer around, either. So, he struggled along, working the fields, but the rest of us looked out for him.
"Shouldn't we go and look for it, Ilya?", Sasha continued to urge me anxiously.
We thought about it for a long time but decided to leave the decision to the others in the village. Trusting the Lord to guide our actions, we quickly moved on in the direction of the woodcutters to complete our task.
We were not the only ones who had seen the glow. When we returned to the village square loaded with logs, everyone was in great excitement and full of joy that the Lord had sent us this sign of His greatness. Not everyone agreed whether it was an angel or a return of the poinsettia that had been witnessed, but everyone was sure that the Lord had sent us encouragement. So, we celebrated our first Christmas full of joy and pleasure, with good food, dancing and singing, full of happiness and under the protection of the Almighty Lord. I will always think back to those days, always keep in my heart how I glimpsed a part of the Lord in the sky.
We all talked about the event and even the older people were fascinated and inspired. Even my grandfather and the others who had witnessed the worst death and misery in the world seemed to slowly find a spiritual peace they would never have dreamed of otherwise. They were happy and strengthened in their faith. However, we were not sure if it had really been an angel who had come down and so we hesitated to go and look for the creature of God.
But in the night, after the light had shone in the sky, I was awakened by Zarina crying in her sleep. I straightened up and slowly paced over to her bed, where in the semi-darkness she began to squirm, shaken by spasms.
"No, no, no..." she moaned painfully.
I began to shake her to wake her up. Zarina did not respond to me. Her face was like a distorted mask hiding something bad underneath. Her breathing became shallow, and she began to whimper. I was terrified and began to pray. The Lord had to save her, He just had to save her!
Zarina twitched more and more, started coughing and whimpering louder and louder. Slowly, the rest of the family woke up and my parents and grandfather huddled tightly around her, praying for her to open her eyes.
"Please, don't take our child! She has only been in your world for fourteen years..." my father cried, as panicked and desperate as I had ever seen before.
His thick, black mustache trembled with fear.
Then, abruptly, Zarina stopped convulsing.
For a terrible moment she just lay there, her hair disheveled, her face pale in the glow of the candle my mother held over her.
"Mom, Dad, Ilya, Grandpa... what's wrong?" she suddenly asked sleepily.
For a moment it was as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't just seen my sister almost die, but then she began to cry.
"What's wrong, dear?" my father asked, just as pale in the face as Zarina.
It took a while before she found some calm and was able to talk to us.
Finally, she croaked:
"I saw the angel. I was with him."
A revelation? Had the Lord touched my sister?
We all said another prayer and finally, filled with awe, I asked:
"Where did you see the angel? Is it here? With us?"
She looked at me briefly, seemed to hesitate for a little moment, and then reported:
"I was with it… in a dream. It was in a white village, a village made of angel dust. I saw it. It didn't have wings and that's why at first I wasn't sure if it was an angel. However, soon it spoke to me."
"What did it say, Zarina?", I asked tensely.
"It said it was not God, but 'the Witness'. It sounded like a man and a woman and a child and a baby and... It felt peaceful. Calm and carefree. Then I woke up."
"An angel. Angels are the witnesses of God, that's how it must be!" my father said enthusiastically.
Suddenly, everyone seemed to be talking at once.
No one knew what Zarina's words meant, but we were sure that they contained something incomprehensible that we, as ordinary people, could not understand. But everyone was delighted. Everyone was caught in a beautiful dream.
The next day, the adults sat together in the large barn near the edge of the village, which was used for community events. Most of them found seats on the lined up wooden benches and the rest stood crowded against the old walls, some of which were already rotten. Dimitri, probably the closest thing to a mayor, sat at a heavy pine table at the end of the room, staring at the crowd, while my parents and Zarina sat on old chairs in front of him. Tensely, the crowd looked at them, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, Dimitri cleared his throat thoughtfully.
"You... all saw or heard about the falling star. It was brighter than the others that keep crossing our sky and much more... melodic. Some even heard the singing. Whoever still doubted that the Lord sent us his messenger... doubts are now useless. Zarina has received a vision. She has seen how the angel, who was sent by God, walked on our earth, and visited a village and consecrated it with its grace. She has seen the angel marching to spread holiness in these lands..."
"Are we sure?"
Mary, the dressmaker, had stood up. She was still young, my age and Sasha's, and she always wore her blond hair carefully braided, her dresses self-made, blood red and flashy, with silver embroidery. As always, she wore makeup - a luxury not many could afford. In other places she would have been considered a lady, but she was also a skeptical person, and I had not liked her very much since childhood, because she often made insinuations that seemed to go against the Lord. Also, she had never played with us outside and had always thought of herself as someone… better. I was shocked that she now so obviously doubted the Lord's actions.
"Mary. Zarina has seen a vision. The Lord spoke to her through her dreams! An angel has joined us. How can you deny it?" my father asked coldly.
"I'm not denying it, I'm just saying, what if there is something dark that the angel was sent to fight? What if it is going into battle against some unknown evil? The angel may be spreading sanctities, but we have no idea if it is trying to redeem us or defend us..."
"It said it was a witness of God," I noted.
"That's what Zarina said when she woke up."
"Then it is benevolent to us! We must find it!" someone shouted from one of the back rows.
An excited murmur began to spread through the room.
"Silence!" Dimitri thundered.
His face looked hard but determined.
"We have to get to it! If it is a message from heaven that the angel wants to bring us, we must hear it! How many can we spare? Who would even want to voluntarily leave the village? We don't know how long the journey will be, and you yourselves know how dangerous this area can be..."
A loud commotion broke out. Everyone shouted at once and volunteered. I also jumped up and loudly offered to go out to look for it.
The angel. The Witness of the Lord.
I imagined meeting it in a clearing, under a full moon. Hearing its bright voice, gaze in awe at its graceful form, and fall to my knees in prayer before it.
"SILENCE!" Dimitri shouted.
"You can't all go. The kids wouldn't make it in the deadly cold out there. Let seven go. Seven is the Lord's number, there must be seven! Seven workers from the fields! We can't spare any more!"
"You can't be serious!" I cried out.
Cold anger boiled up inside me.
"I want to go, too. We all want to. You can't just stand there and make a decision like that!"
Others joined in.
"SILENCE," Alexeij now thundered, the master blacksmith.
"We need you! Daniil, Ilya, Nikita, you have a job to do! We can't get by without you! You can't go, be reasonable!"
"But if the Lord wills it, he will make sure that everything here will work out. That nothing will happen!", I tried to argue, still boiling with anger.
"No. Winter is tugging at our huts, we need you," my father said slowly.
"So do the others. Without you, it's going to be tight. The fields lie under the snow, but everything else will be weakened by time and storms. We can only spare the field hands. Besides, they're the ones most likely to withstand the cold and the wilderness; after all, they're constantly out on the Fields of Death, toiling in the wind and rain. They'll all make the trip!"
I tried to change his mind, and several came to my aid, all those who were also forced to stay.
"You can manage without a dressmaker! I want to go too!" Mary cried defiantly, her cheeks red with anger, her nose wrinkled.
This young woman really believed she deserved the sight of the angel! She really believed her hypocrisies would deceive the Lord, despite her obvious doubts about His divinity!
Others also complained, young and old, many who didn't deserve to go and even those who did.
But it didn't help.
Dimitri was in charge. Everyone knew that. If we started to contradict him, our village would soon end up in chaos. And deep down I knew that I had to stay. That I had to take care of my sister, who would not survive a trip in the snow. That I had to repair the huts that the storms would eat away at.
Sasha was a field worker, he was allowed to go. Sasha and Sofia, Anatoly and old Igor, Ivan and Yulia and Mikhail. When the decision was made, a decision many of us accepted only with heavy hearts and which brought out deep envy in several faces, some of the chosen ones began to cry. They were happy, fulfilled... satisfied. They would see the messenger of the Lord, hear its melodious voice, sing its hymns.
Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why was the world so unfair? I had always believed in the Lord, prayed to Him, been subject to Him and lived according to His will. Why hadn't he chosen me to see his messenger? I had been so proud back when I had been allowed to learn the carpenter's trade and thus had not to go to the Fields of Death to toil there. At that time, I had felt like someone better when I saw Sasha and Sofia setting out early in the morning with all the other workers, with their old-fashioned plows and thick, shabby clothes.
Was this the punishment for my arrogance?
The Lord knew everything. He had seen what repulsive thoughts I had had, how superior I had felt to the others. Perhaps it was my punishment that I was not allowed to go. Perhaps the Lord was no longer favorable to me and I would have to prove myself to Him.
The next day, the seven set out north. They were seen off with singing and dancing; they were the center of the village’s attention. Envy threatened to drown me.
Why not me? Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why did I have to stay here?
And I knew: it was because of these thoughts. I wasn't pure enough. I had to get better, work on myself.
As the others disappeared from sight, as the small group seemed to be swallowed up by a patch of forest between distant trees, an icy chill ran down my spine.
What if they really did encounter evil? What if Mary had been right?
I prayed to the Lord that they would return home safely: Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
He would bring them home safely, our pilgrims. I did not begrudge them their happiness. I was not a selfish person, was not complacent like Mary or some others in the village. I lived by the word of the Lord and I would not begrudge them.
They would all return home safely.
I continued to stare into the distance for a long time as my suppressed envy sought to consume me. But I was winning.
For darkness is as light to you.
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Even though the days and weeks passed, I never forgot to think of all those who had set out to witness the glory of the Lord. The cold winter had passed and frost and cold left the land, so that soon we could begin to prepare the fields for sowing. Since the sighting of the angel had caused us to let some of the farm workers leave, and they stayed away longer than we had expected, I had to join others in helping to plow the Fields of Death. The work was exhausting and made me physically very tired, since I still had to work in the carpenter's shop as well. We could not afford tractors, so we still had to resort to older tools. So, it happened that one day I was driving one of the hand plows through the dirty ground and was lost in my thoughts and full of sweat.
I was quite far away from the village, as the nearby surroundings had been worked shortly after the beginning of the thaw. The fields were extensive, partly reaching further than the eye could see. Only in one direction the dense forest extended, which introduced the beginning of a dark hilly landscape, that finally merged northward into high, alien mountains, whose white peaks rose high into the sky and, like once the tower of Babel, blasphemously tried to penetrate the heavens. But next to these distant giants there was only the plain, the vast plain that had to be tilled.
I hated the field work. And I hated the fields.
Every time I even thought about this piece of hell that had become reality long ago, my stomach turned. All the events that clung to this dark place, all the human lives and suffering that had sown the ground with death and blood here many years ago....
It was even worse when you stood in the fields yourself, truly being there on your own. It was as if I could smell it in the air, the rot of the starving and the hot blood that had watered the soil. It was as if I could still hear in the air the cries and wailing of the people who had met their end here, who had pleaded for their lives and the lives of their children and friends. It was as if I could see them in the early morning fog banks that lay on the Fields of Death, the shadows of people past, crawling and cowering, weak and starved. I had to pull myself together and look away, into the forest. A place does not forget, a place always remembers the days gone by and the cries that had been.
The plow pulled through the ground, ripping a furrow behind it. It was almost a bit comforting to imagine I was gutting this place of horror with my labor, inflicting deep wounds. Hypnotized, I stared down over and over again, watching the ground swirl to one side, smelling the fresh earth being pushed to the surface. But never could I escape my terrible feelings and the forebodings, never could I forget what kind of place I was at.
The few times I looked to the forest beside me, my thoughts wandered enviously to all those who had set out to find the angel. Had they reached it yet? Had they already learned from it what needed to be done for God's power on earth to be strengthened so that false prophets and promises could be swept away? How to drown the selfishness of the state? What needed to be done to serve the Lord?
Oh, how I would have loved to be there! How I would have loved to go with them, but I also understood the decision not to send everyone, and I understood my family's objections. I was needed here. I could serve the Lord here by tilling the fields and taking care of the soil and the sowing. I had to care for my sister.
I had already made several furrows when noon came. The sun was almost not visible, just a murky spot behind the clouds, and the fog had not lifted either. The world looked pale and apathetic. But amongst all the desolation I could suddenly hear something, something that seemed to come out of the forest.
It was at first just like a rustling in the wind that sounded a bit too regular, such that it triggered a natural uneasiness in me. I looked into the forest, but could hardly make out anything through the dense plants and the still lingering fog. That is why it was left to my own thoughts to imagine what was there, what was producing this strange noise.
I could not remember any animal that made similar sounds, was at a loss.
Suddenly, a bang echoed through the forest, accompanied by a panicked scream that broke inhumanly from the trees and spread across the fields.
Then, something new joined the sounds in the air.
The trees and bushes rustled, almost seemed to be torn apart.
Something was running through the forest, something seemed to be... coming right at me.
Was it perhaps a startled bear, an elk, or a wild boar?
Had one of the hunters from the village accidentally startled an animal, scared it in the wrong direction and now wanted to warn us with their cry? But then, why this panicked sound...?
I paused, took my hands off the rusty handles of the plow, and turned toward the forest. Still, I could only see fog, I could only hear rustling, but slowly I could also make out grunts and groans coming to me from the fog. It sounded heavy and panic-stricken.
Was I in danger? I began to pray to the Lord and ask him for assistance. I was not a fighter and so I had to hope that nothing would reach me from the depths between the trees that could easily tear me apart.
Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
My baptismal motto gave me courage. The Lord saw me, even in my darkness, and would be with me.
For darkness is as light to you.
Then, someone burst out of the bushes and the fog and rushed toward me.
It was Sasha.
I almost didn't recognize him. His skin was pale, almost snow-white. His black hair stuck to his sweaty face. His pants and jacket were almost completely torn, so I could see his dirty shirt and his cut and bruised legs through the holes. There were also some small cuts on his face that worried me. Sasha's eyes twitched searchingly, panicked, and in his hand, he held the rifle that he had taken with him when he had once set out. Apparently, he had run through brush and thorns, had gotten scrapes and wounds from stones and branches.
When he saw me and looked at me with his big, panic-filled eyes, I became horridly afraid.
It was as if… behind his eyes there was no Sasha anymore, but only an animal. As if instinct had taken over his thoughts when an unnamable terror had entered his world. An animal inside him, which had enabled him to escape from... something.
Sasha staggered out of the forest, it was almost as if all strength left him now that he was back home. The rifle fell from his hand and dug into the mud beneath his feet. He limped slowly toward me, not taking his eyes off me. Then, suddenly, he wheeled around and looked back into the forest and the mist.
Only for a moment.
Again, he let out a shrill scream and sprinted the last few meters. When I looked into the forest myself, I saw nothing, only the fog.
But, didn't I feel a presence there, in the bushes? Between the trees?
I didn't see anything.
Sasha had reached me and collapsed. I quickly knelt down next to him and called for help. But the other field workers had already rushed over, obviously attracted by the rifle shot. I was in a trance, seeing only Sasha lying there, supporting his head. His eyes were still twitching around and despite my proximity he didn't seem to recognize me. He looked at me, confused.
"Sasha, what happened?", I asked, feeling his forehead.
Despite his paleness, he was uncomfortably hot.
A fever raged in his body. Who knew how long he had been running around there among the trees, his protective, warming jacket torn? With wounds that had not been tended and some of which were still bleeding?
Then another horrible thought occurred to me.
"Sasha, where are the others? Sasha, where are the others?"
This question apparently brought back some clarity that his gaze had not possessed before.
"They... they took them. Took all of them... All of them. All our brothers, all our sisters... all of them," he gurgled.
*********
So, this is the first part of what I found. I will hurry to translate the rest! But I will definitely stay out of the woods for now... They are still as creepy as described by Ilya in this document and fog ist still around every morning... Also, I don't know what to make of Ilya himself as well, is he just a religious nut and that is the explanation? I just don't know...

As the title suggests I am out here looking for some like minded people to engage with, grow bonds with and hopefully one day call you a good if not great friend. I am purely after friendship as I have a wonderful partner who is my best friend and rock. But one person can't be there to cover everything you like, love or have interest in. I have other 'Gaming' friends but most of the time its purely to listen to them rant down my eardrum about how their work day is while I just nod or agree to continue the endless rant. I am sure some of you have people like that in your life or like me you persevere because you fear loosing the already small pool of friends you have.
Not knowing if this applies to any like me but being in my early 30s and a geeky introverted type. Our friendships are either remaining long term ones or fleeting moments from every other attempt at discord and reddit. I have tried discord servers but I feel so out of place with either the lingo, talking through memes etc I know im not old but even at 31 I feel ancient sometimes haha. I feel places like here suffer from people disguising friendship as 'I just want to rant for a few hours and you'll do' before eventually never getting a message the next day.
A bit about me: - I am a gamer, play on my PS5 mainly but have a steam deck and an old PC (Love FF14 or any JRPG really, CoD, looking for more multiplayer stuff) - Movie lover, I studied film and media in my college years. Action and fantasy are my fav genres. Horror not so much (Partner can attest to that) - Nerdy by nature. A wide array of topic types I can discuss, listen and offer input to etc.
But yeah I don't want to bog down a post with everything just more of an opening taster. It would be good to just have some more like minded friends (also in a close to similar age bracket) even those of us who have partners or married etc. We can still get lonely and there is no harm making new friends :D

Star Wars jokes aside, I really do need help.
I'm running Legendary Edition on PC through Steam and the EA app, with imported saves from the first two games. No mods, either. Never could quite figure those out. I got all the way to the start of the beam run in ME3, the heroic music was swelling, I was holding back tears-and then my game crashed.
Now, when I try to open the game, I have a problem. Starting a new game for ME1 and ME2? Works fine. Clicking Resume or Start for ME3? I get taken to the loading screen with omniblade Shep in front of the earth, the screen flashes quickly to my homescreen before going to the gray planet and freezing. After several seconds of freeze, the game crashes and the launcher automatically reopens.
I have tried everything and the kitchen sink. Restarting, reinstalling, checking for corrupted files, updating the EA app, and several more things I can't think of names for. Out of all of those, deleting my Steam save and keeping the local files is the only thing that has done anything. Unfortunately, that thing is altering the crash so that when I click on Resume, the screen turns black and I'm redirected to the launcher. When I click Start, the same bug happens as detailed above. A new and improved way for me to tear my hair out, I suppose.
At this point, I have three options.
Option one, bite the bullet and restart the game. While it's fun enough that I don't mind replaying it with Asteria (my Shep), I have no guarantees the same bug won't pop up if I get to the beam again.
Option two, google the ending, delete my save files, and start Andromeda. That seems like cheating to me, but it won't have me do several hours of gameplay over again. Although, if anything from ME3 carries over to Andromeda then I'm SOL.
Option three, ask you lovely people for help.
I'm hoping to go with option three. The first two options are on the table, but I'd prefer not to do them if I don't have to. If any advice could be offered, no matter if it works or not, I would be very grateful.

Hey folks,
I recently discovered Bogleheads -- it's been a super helpful resource and I'm making my way through the various book recommendations. No one in my family has pursued investing/higher education/finance etc before so this is brand new to me - appreciate everyone's patience!
I had a couple of questions I was hoping to get insight on --
Hypothetical -- I'm in my early 30s and just opened a Roth IRA and also an employer-based Roth 403(b). I'm doing the Roth because my tax bracket currently is the lowest it will be (rock bottom haha).
Question #1: Roth IRA (VT vs VTI/VXUS)
For my Roth IRA -- it seems many posts say VT vs VTI/VXUS. It looks like the choice is based on whether the funds go into a tax advantaged account vs. tax-deferred. My understanding is the Roth IRA is a ....tax -advantaged account right? So in this scenario, there's no tax advantage on VT vs VTI/VXUS. -- I was going to go with VTI/VXUS because of the greater # of companies covered.
Question #2: Roth Employer based 403b (with 2% match)
I picked a Vanguard target date fund. There is a finite number of selections that I am able to pick from. To confirm, this is a tax-advantaged account also right?
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Let me know if you have any thoughts about the above plan!
Basically my plan (based on reading Bogleheads) is:

1. Roth IRA - VTI/VXUS
2. Roth 403b - Vanguard target date fund

Hey guys. I’m in recovery and it’s going well. Except that my face is retaining so much water to the point where it doesn’t even look like it belongs on my body. Please can someone recommend an over the counter pill for water retention that works? I’m in the UK so the queue for GP appointments is over 3 weeks. Please help this is making me want to relapse so bad. I could make all of this go away if I just purged and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s such beautiful weather and I have 2 events to go to next week and I’m gonna have to cancel and look myself in a dark room like a troll so no one can see me bc of this swelling. I am about two seconds away from a relapse. :(

Has anyone else noticed that during freeze or shutdown you're unable to open your mouth? No amount of will power can make me open my mouth of I am in a state of freeze. And usually talking to people is a trigger.
Anytime I close my mouth and listen to someone else for more than a minute, my ability to extricate myself from the conversation and ability to talk is gone.
There is a certain level of dissociation and anger I find with myself.
Anyone who has experienced this? What worked for you.?

A friend gave me some second-hand art supplies, and some of them are those graphitint/tinted charcoal pans, liquid graphite, coliro pearlescent pans, etc. I'm not really sure what brushes I should pair with them. Is it safe to use my watercolor brushes or should I get a separate set just for playing with these?

Hi,
i have an old epic games account (i think) that my son spent lots of money on buying skins etc. in the early days of free to play fortnite on xbox.
when i open fortnite on my xbox, the account is already logged in and i can play and see all my stuff.
i want to use this same account on my switch, but as i do not know the email for this account, i cannot log in to epic games and link my nintendo. (which i preesume is what i need to do?)
from the xbox i can see my display name and my epic account ID, but no other details for the account.
i have tried logging into epic games with my microsoft login, nintendo login, google login etc, but it tells me no Epic account is linked to these logins and i must make a new one. this is weird, as i would have thought that there was an account linked to my xbox login, as i can access it on my xbox.
i tried the forgot password on epic games with the 5 email addresses i regularly use, but these are not connected to an epic account apparently.
i tried to get support from epic, but they can only help with the account you are logged in to, and i cant log in!
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what I am hoping to achieve is keep the account that is logged in on my xbox (with all the items and progress) and use the same account on my switch to play fortnite on both consoles. (not at the same time)
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not sure if it is relevant, but my switch is currently logged into another epic account that i must have set up to play fall guys. i am not bothered about losing this account.
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Can anybody help, as this is making me really angry! IT SHOULDNT BE THIS DIFFICULT!

Hi best peepses of the internet. I'm asking for helpful tips on transitioning into a PA build.
I've played my 500 or so levels as a VATS sneak Commando, with only the shortest of stints in Power Armour to farm flux or get safely out of Earle's basement.
Now I'm making a big change and looking to build a max HP/tank, PA, Gauss shotgunner.
I know the basics, as a player of the other FO games, but I'm hoping you beautiful lot can throw some helpful pro tips to help me make the switch a smooth one. Non-obvious things I might otherwise overlook.
Place your tips onto me. Anything and everything much appreciated!

Let me start off by saying I didn't want to post here. My SO is great, he's amazing, blah blah, most some of the time. I've come to learn that most of his "bad" behaviors are a result of being raised by narcissistic, neglectful parents. He also has ADHD, so while it's annoying, I can understand leaving open containers of cat food on the counter after he's fed them. Stupid stuff like that I can deal with.
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What I can't deal with is another summer of him doing absolutely nothing. He's a teacher, so he has summers off. Last summer, he promised/planned to replace and/or fix the windows in the bedroom, which are old and broken and ...ok, you already get the idea. He also said he wanted to do this project, and that project, and NONE of this happened. What did he do all day, every day? Lordy if I know. Besides play Star Wars video games all day. And this year, we have a baby, so I KNOW he's going to use the baby as an excuse.
Recently, I tried to use a giant white board as a chore board, but that honestly doesn't even work unless I tell him to DO what I wrote down - and I'm the only one writing stuff down. And it's stupid stuff, like VACUUM or put away his laundry! And even then I've had to start putting dates on when I write a chore down. We even got a letter from the township because some Karen complained that our grass was too long, because god forbid he go and mow the lawn without being asked. (It honestly wasn't too bad, but STILL.) I feel like I'm raising a teenage boy. He just does not give a crap. His parents kitchen is a constant mess, there's always dishes in the sink, and unless I am visibly frustrated, I am the only one who does any sort of cleaning. He would live in absolute squalor if I was not there.
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Yes, I've tried talking to him. I've tried nice. I've tried angry. I've tried exasperated and crying. I've tried every mode of communication I can, and my last resort is to try what my parents did when I was a TEEN - disconnect the internet until stuff gets done!!! That's why I'm here. Because no matter what I do or say, things improve for like two days, and then they go back to "normal."
Did I mention he is 33 years old?

Age: 19 F
Weight: 149 pounds
Height: 157 cms (5’2)
Hi there, as the title suggests, over the past few months; ive been trying to lose weight but im unable too, instead ive gained a couple pounds. In january my weight was 134 pounds.
Lately, i have not been feeling good about how my body has started to look, and i want to improve and prevent before it gets out of hand, and turn into something much worse.
In 2020, ive suffered from an eating disorder which caused me to lose nearly 65 pounds in just 3-4 months, and the least i have weighed was 90 pounds, which wasn’t healthy at all.
I cannot go to the gym as of now, so i would prefer at home workouts without weights. I cannot do heavy workouts as i have dislocated my knee in the past. If, youve any suggestions or ways you can help me out through to reach my goal, it would be really helpful.
My desired weight is 105 pounds (48 kgs).

Hey, so the company I’ve been working in didn’t give anyone a raise for 2+ years because they said that there are companies that reduced their size or deducted salary during the pandemic, and that they weren’t going to give a raise after that because we were working from home most of the week when things opened up. After that, they gave us a tiny raise.
I’m wondering if they’re just waiting for me to quit because if they fire me, they might have to pay separation and I’ve been with them for a couple of years. I’ve been job hunting but I’m also not sure what to do exactly since it’s also pretty tough out there right now.

Hey there! Reading this series with a friend. We both loved the first and I'm getting near the end of book two. Feeling a little underwhelmed by the story (though the characters and premise are super well developed).
I was surprised how the second book was such a jump from the first. I think it could be argued it's just another book in the universe more so than a sequel? Anyway, curious what others thought of the full series without spoilies plz! FWIW I discovered Chambers when a friend lent me To be taught if fortunate and have adored everything else. I'm gonna keep reading regardless- just curious to hear some discussion on the series from this community.

I rewatched all the movies again a couple months ago and one spell cast hit me more than ever before and it is so quick you could miss it. I've been thinking about it for months and I'm curious if anyone else had a similar reaction.
The spell cast I'm referring to is after Goyle casts Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement and the golden trio is escaping. When they are backed into a corner and the fire is about to reach them, Harry instinctively casts a water barrier to block the Fiendfyre. I think this is the coolest spell cast in the entire franchise.
First of all, Fiendfyre is supposed to be near impossible to put out, and while I know it is just a quick barrier and doesnt put out the fire, it does stop a raging flame from affecting any of them. In order to do this, it would have to be an insanely strong spell and Harry casts it just instinctively to protect his friends.
But, most importantly, everytime I see this scene I think of how it parallels Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort in the Ministry. Voldemort attacks with a flame serpent and Dumbledore blocks it, then encases Voldemort in water.
Also, what tipped me off to the similarity at first is the deafening affect that the water has in both scenes. In both scenes there is a lot of chaos and noise, but when the water is summoned, the noise subsides for a second and is replaced by a dull water sound.
I just think the parallels between these scenes and also, what seems to me as, the representation that this has shifted from Dumbledore being the only one powerful enough to defeat Voldemort and using his "good" magic, water, to defeat Voldemort's "evil" magic, fire. (I know it wasnt Voldemort who cast it in the Room of Requirement, but they were working on his orders)
In summary, I think the best spell cast in the movies was when Harry blocked the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, due to how I perceive this scene paralleling Dumbledore's fight against Voldemort in the Ministry. And I think the sound design of both scenes is what makes this the coolest spell for me.
Do you agree? If not, what do you think is the coolest spell cast in the movies?

Hey howdy hey! I’m Ambs, I absolutely adore wildlife of all kinds, reptiles, birds, insects, fish and most mammals (Humans can be horrifying creatures /hj) I would love to make a job out of caring for animals but you don’t have to have the same goals as me to message, you could be a hobbyist or even an admirer from afar! I’d honestly just love to talk to some new people with similar interests. Let’s note some things about me before I move on to boundaries/requirements so you (dear reader) know what you’re getting yourself into.
Things to note about me:
• I’m no where near all knowing about animals/animal care- I just have an urge to learn about it while making new friends. If I have a question I’ll simply just ask or look into it myself!
• if I notice you are mistreating your animals (assuming you have them) I will politely let you know what the issue is and why it’s an issue- it’s not going to be a argument and definitely not a dealbreaker as long as it wasn’t on purpose. (Most people who do so are doing so accidentally)
• I’m most knowledgeable on reptiles because they are my favorite, but again no where near all knowing.
• I have some experience doing volunteer work with animals, but that’s as far as it goes at the moment. I’d equally appreciate a friend with less or more experience than me. Doesn’t matter to me in the slightest, only the willingness to learn more.
• sending pictures of your animals/animals in general is more than appreciated!!
• If you don’t have animals and want them in the future, I’d be happy to listen to you talk all about it. But if you do have animals and want to talk about them I’d also be happy to listen.
• Off of the animals topic and onto me, I personally really enjoy voice calls and prefer it over texting. I voice call on discord only.
Moving on to requirements:
• Please have a discord account.
• follow this subreddit’s guidelines and be 18+ (no upper age limit)
• I’m looking for friends, not flings. Don’t contact me looking for anything of the sort- it’s not happening.
That’s everything I can think of at the moment!! I appreciate you reading through this, thank you so much! I hope you have a wonderful day regardless of if you decide to reach out or not. 💕

Figured I'd do another post of overrated bourbons to hopefully help some fellow whiskey enthusiasts from making mistakes and letting FOMO get the heat of them. My list of some of the overrated bourbons I've had. Might be some feelings hurt.
1.GTS - Dont get me wrong it's good but obviously it's not worth anywhere close to secondary. I used to pass on it at $500 by me. It's good but it's not that far off other well aged, full proof bourbons. Eagle Rare 17 gets a lot of dislike but honestly I liked it better but both are very close. Yet people say ER17 shouldn't exist and GTS is juice from God. The truth is both are good and very close in quality. Neither are worth more than $250 in today's market

1. William LaRue - To be fair I've only had the 2022 version which wasn't received as a great batch but honestly I was so disappointed it has to make my list. There are so many bourbons better I'll never feel bad for not owning this.

3.1792 - All there products get hype for some reason and I don't get it. The best bottles are the store pick full proof but even they are ok and only worth 50 give or take. They drink very hot and flavor is ok. Problem woth most of 1792 for me is the flavors all seem turned down a lot. Like the someone lowered the volume. I never chase these and quite frankly don't buy them. Small Batch for instance there's a bunch of bottles that I'd rather have in same or lower price range.
4.Four Roses SB - not as bad as others on this list but suffers from same thing as 1792 maybe even more. Flavors are just so muted and turned down.
5.High West Rendezvous Rye - newer stock from last several years is awful. Drinks like a $20 hot mess.
6.Henry Mckenna 10yr SIb - Dont listen to whiskey awards. There a lot of Barrel variation and it's simply $30-$40 whiskey.
7.EC Toasted - Beem said on here a million times but has to be on list. Stop tapering this bottle. It's over priced even at MSRP.
8.Buffalo Trace Products - Too many to list but they all belong here for one reason or another. They are all wayyy overhyped. Idk why everyone feels like THEY HAVE too buy buffalo trace. Most of there products are good but that's it, there just good and prob worth near msrp.
9.Angels Envy - Overpriced and not that good. There Rye almost certainly has additives for flavoring to it too. Just pass all of it.
10.Four Gate Products - I don't care gow good there barrels are there whiskey is not worth $200 a bottle. They have some good bottles but should prob be priced between $80-$120 at most. But let's not forget there bottles aren't all hitters. They got there fair share of flops and these ones prob worth like $40-$60 at most.
11.Michters - now I actually like there products but the price on all of it is wayy too high. There products over $100 should be cut in half. The Toasted series should be lower by $10-15 but I can live with these but your prob paying secondary for them.
12.Craft Distillery Whiskey under 4yrs old- You always here it's good for a 2 year old whiskey. Hmm well I expect 2yr old whiskeybto taste like crap so this is slightly better crap. I'm all for supporting craft Distillers but the 2yr-3yr old whiskey hype got to stop. It ain't good. Hell even alot of 4yr craft whiskey isnt that good. Try it at a bar or the distillery but don't buy a bottle blindly. Especially when there selling it for $50-$80.
There's plenty more to list but hopefully this help some of you fellow whiskey nerds fight FOMO that we all deal with.