Costco clear storage bins with lids

During the quest I unequipped my silver sword, because I thought it looked cooler to have a steel sword, given the fact it was a tournament and I didn’t expect any monster hunting
After helping Vivienne, I looked in my inventory to see the sword I won in the tourney, and noticed my silver sword was nowhere to be found
I went back through my saves, and I last had it before confronting Vivienne (before and during the bird chase into the forest clearing, when you first learn of her curse). Sometime after that it must have disappeared.
Is this a common problem with the quest? Should I just replay from the previously mentioned save and instead equip my silver sword? Or should I just put it in my storage?

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I just indulged in some Devil’s Lettuce while watching JoKen’s wedding and thought it would be fun to figure out which couples can be in the same room together, and as someone who over analyzes mundane things that have little to no meaning in this world I thought this would be fun.
1.) Jim Bob and Michelle - These two are odd. I think they love each other but in an unsettling way? It always feels like they’re overcompensating for something. They seemed pretty normal (as normal as they could be) but once they were really deep into IBLP and quiverfullness they got strange. Also I cannot stop thinking about Rim Job doing that to Meech while mini golfing. They kinda feel like that couple in school that gave way too much PDA that made everyone uncomfortable.
2.) Josh and Anna. What hasn’t been said about Pest and Anna’s relationship at this point. I just think it’s complicated and don’t really want to think about them.
3.) John-David and Abbie. They’re so boring but they’re boring for each other. JD is super mellow in a way where if he was with an extrovert he would probably be extremely uncomfortable so Abbie balances him out well. He also really cared for Abbie in the little time we saw their on screen relationship and although it’s the bare minimum, he’s a fundie man so it’s impressive he cares. They seem genuine.
4.) Jill and Derick. These two are ride or die. SHP really cemented for me how much they care for each other, especially Derick talking when Jill was uncomfortable with a subject. Jill seems to be in the early stages of deconstructing and has clearly been working through trauma which helps when you have a supportive spouse such as Derick. He also is a petty little shit and dislikes Rim Job so I feel that has also helped Jill see some of the dysfunctions of how he’s been treating the family.
5.) Jessa and Ben. Bin was horny for a girl he saw on tv and Jessa was presented with a man that wasn’t a weirdo (her words not mine). She clearly runs a tight ship and is head of the household while he has nothing in his brain and just stares at a wall. I think they used to be super in love before Bin realized that she has a strong personality and isn’t just a hot girl who sometimes is funny. I think after Surgery’s birth he started to become “the lights are on but no one is home”.
6.) Jinger and Jeremy. In the beginning these two were nice, but as time went on it seems the relationship became more one sided. Also Jeremy’s ego has gone so far through the roof that I think he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but himself anymore. If Jeremy likes the color red then I like the color red.
7.) Joe and Kendra. Giggles and Joe are definitely in love. Joe seems sentimental and sensitive and Giggles is a very happy person in general and they actually enjoy each other’s company. They also have a gazillion children and can still tolerate each other so that helps.
8.) Josiah and Lauren. I feel like if Josiah could have lived a real life he would have been a theater kid, and having a wife that sings every second of the day would help with that. They do balance each other well and are staying off social media so good for them. I can’t ever unhear Siahhhh though.
9.) Joy-Anna and Austin. Austin makes me feel weird and he looks disinterested a lot of the time, but he and Joy seem to like each other. He also lets her be Tomboy Joy and even though being yourself is the bare minimum it helps when you’re in a fundie relationship.
10.) Jedidiah and Katey. Jed! is a slug who will never cease to irk me and Kathy looks like she’s always a blink away from berating him. She has always looked sick of his shit and their whole relationship is so weird to me. He also told her she ate too much while pregnant so I don’t know what will come of these two.
11.) Jeremiah and Hannah. I’m going to be honest I forgot Jer and Hannah even existed as a couple. I’ll just give them the benefit of the doubt and say they’re fine and like each other, but please don’t name your next kid Laekrypple or something like that.
12.) Justin and Claire. The child and the Jana look alike. They’re also weird to me only because Justin and her got married the second he could to the clone of my high school English teacher. I feel more chemistry between Claire’s mom and Justin, maybe that’s why they haven’t had 8 children yet.
I had fun making this and would love to hear some thoughts!!

It took me almost a year to work up the courage to confess my feelings to her... Let alone even come to terms with the fact that I had this crush in the first place. I didn't want to be a part of another long distance relationship, after the last LDR I had been in I didn't want to do anything like that to myself again. And yet... We had hit it off so wonderfully. From the moment I met her I knew we had something special. It was genuinely so different than anyone I'd spoken to in really my whole life. We connected instantly, and a lot of people hated that... But we were natural best friends, we complemented each other in a lot of aspects. It's the only time I could dance around the concept of "love at first sight" considering we were messaging over discord and various socials at the time, so there wasn't a whole lot of sight involved save for the art and pictures we would send each other on occasions. The little occasions turned more frequent as we talked however, as we hung out more and shared ideas and opinions... We fell so deeply in love, it was truly an eye opening experience for me. It was amazing, it was addicting. I ended up caring about her more than anything in the end, more than even my pets I think, those that have been there for me and with me longer than she had, the ones she had to learn to overcome her jealousy for. It was a dangerous and intoxicating feeling, but it was real and I don't doubt that one bit. I wanted to devote myself to her for the rest of my life, I was so ready for it after 2 and a half years of being with this person and actively trying (though, I guess fumbling...) to work toward getting myself out of this situation I'm in to be with her; To be together in person, permanently, and to prove that I can be someone worth falling in love with after some patience, of being someone capable of sharing a life with. This was a brand new, comfortable feeling for me after feeling unheard and overlooked my whole life... I was so sure that I had found MY person, and that she felt the exact same way. I wish I had a scoreboard so I know how well I did... I just want to know where I really went wrong. Things HAD soured once before. We had communication issues, but I was lucky I guess. I was the one who broke up with her, and quickly realized my mistake. She took me back after pouring my heart out and a month long break apart from each other. We apologized to each other and acknowledged our mistakes. We promised to do better to each other. I feel like it's been at least a solid year later, or somewhere around that time, ironically. I'm going through a very difficult period in my life. I just started a new job, which was really limited our time together and completely rotated my schedule. By the time work is over for me, she's pretty much just getting into her shift... And then when she would get home we'd really only have an hour or so to catch up with our day and hang out if we could before sleeping. A month ago I'd had a really hurtful and life altering moment with my family, and to top it all off I'd fainted over the weekend for my first time due to being new at injecting myself alone (I've been trying to do t-hrt at home), and finally I had just been unmedicated for antidepressants for two days because of a mistake on the pharmacy's part. I know I may have been on edge, but yesterday I know I snapped. I yelled at her, which I don't think I've ever done before. I blamed her for things I shouldn't have. I know what I did wrong. I always know when I've fucked up and this isn't much different. But... I don't think I have ever had a panic attack in front of her before. The way that she had handled my state of being at the time just felt like watching a bullet go through my brain, it hurt me even worse than I could have ever expected from her. It started as a text about the situation over snapchat, I was already angry and upset, so when she asked me if I was okay I had only replied "Of course I'm not" since I was freaking out before she even initiated a phone call with me. She asked me again if I was okay, this time over voice, and I made it clear that things weren't okay. I was pointing fingers, pushing my pain onto her at that moment... But she must have been sick of me by this time, waiting for something like this to happen. She became defensive within a second; She told me that she was sick of dealing with my drunk mother texting her (to which I've encouraged her to block already before now), she was telling me that she was worried about me yet simultaneously putting me in the shameful position of asking if I was even hearing myself not making sense which, as awful as it sounds... Yes. Having a panic attack does that to my brain. I knew full and well how stupid I sounded, and she really made me feel like a stupid asshole in that moment. I asked her then, "So what do you want me to do now?" And her reply? "I don't know. Figure it out." ... And that was when the metaphorical bullet exited the back of my head. I really had nothing else to say after that. I was in shock. I really, truly couldn't--still can't--believe that this was the kind of response I had received from the person I'd given my life to for pretty much 3 years. I want to know why she had shown me this side of her at one of my hardest and lowest points in life. I left the call that she started, and texted her not to talk to me for a while, which makes the last thing she's said to me:
"Go fuck yourself."
After that message, still in a frantic mindset I just... Deleted and blocked her. On everything. I blocked her phone number, unfollowed and blocked her on every social media, changed and deleted a few of them. I digitally tore up notes that we shared, kicked her out of a major project that we had really high hopes on publishing... I didn't keep that either. I scrapped everything that that we'd ever worked on together, erased each and every single photo we had together (hundreds... There were hundreds that I went through of her, and us.) and emptied my bin within what felt like all in the same moment. I don't know yet if I regret doing that. Personally I wanted moving on to be instant and easy, but I know it's not going to be that way. I can't even live right now without realizing that everything I do, everything I think of, is with her in the back of my mind. Always considering her, always wondering about her, loving her in such a casual every day way that's become so ingrained in my normal life that even just making a return at the mall had me feeling like I was going to throw up. I haven't been this anxious since being a teenager, my mental health has not felt this fragile in so many years.
I saw the most adorable picnic baskets for sale today. I stopped in my tracks because I remembered how she'd always wanted one. I can't remember how long I was standing there looking at them, remembering what had happened, what she had said to me barely 24 hours earlier... Realizing that this person who had become such a crucial part of me, was no longer there. This could be taken literally, or poetically really. In the end she really isn't the same person that I had fallen in love with, I don't think. Even now, deep in this pain, I still care about her far too much. I will never not want to be a part of her life, I really wanted her to be a part of mine. I'm telling this all to no one in particular, I don't expect any replies or sympathy. I just don't know what to do, where to go from here. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could have just shut the fuck up or something. I wish I had pending notifications from her, waiting for me to answer them. The worst part of this all is that I don't really expect her to try and reach out to me after this. I fully expect for her and her friends to immediately decide that I'm an asshole, admit that they all hated me this whole time, and that she really put me in my place. That I got what I deserved.
The last song that we listened to together was one of my oldest favorites: Fantasy by DyE. It's been echoing in my head ever since I woke up this morning... I wonder if she hears it too.

Feel free to remove this if its against the rules but I desperately need the help
My hamster is a bar biter and nothings stopping him so I wanna switch to a storage bin cage seeing as they have no bars + they're cheaper than metal cages but I have no idea what's good and what isn't size wise... other hamster owners who have done this any links would be appreciated uk based with access to amazon

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Let me preface that RNG has completely screwed me over since I started the game. I didn't even see my first yellow until level 18 and not my first legendary until well into my 30s. Since then I have only gotten a small number of additional legendaries - only 3 even worth having on. I'm now 48 and my gear is so bad that even on tier 1 I am barely able to kill anything anymore.
I'm not new to diablo games - I've logged many thousands of hours across previous diablo installments including capping a number of hardcore characters. Skill is not the issue and is probably the only reason I've even gotten as far as I have.
I have managed to get to the capstone dungeon, however it is not available on tier 1 and I am unable to do tier 2. Now I cannot even finish the story prologue. To make matters worse, now at level 48 with such horrible gear I am at a point that I can barely clear a dungeon. The last two that I did took an hour and a half each because it was taking so long to kill anything.
Class/spec is a chain lightning sorc. I've dumped literally everything possible into increasing damage (both on gear and also through skills). None of my legendaries boost damage nor provide mana generation. I am out of mana 90% of fights and spend most of my time having to spam spark and running in circles waiting for some mana to come back to fire off a few more chain lightnings. Even trash packs take forever to kill now. I also cannot apply the mana regen aspect as I have gotten 0 legendary rings nor amulets so I have never had the materials require to ever even apply it.
Note that being forced to change specs is also not an option for me - I do not want to be forced into the "spec of the month" like they do in WoW games. I will end up quitting before I am forced to switch to ice or fire specs that I do not want to play. Making matters worse - I wouldn't even have the gold to be able to change my spec as it is. I looked and it's 85K gold to change and I don't have that much gold on me. I upgraded my storage with gold before hitting this absolute wall and hind sight is 20/20.
But anyway, as the title says, I cannot even go back to easier dungeons to try to farm gear. Maybe blizzard didn't think it was possible for RNG to hit someone this bad with drops. All dungeons are now scaled to the ridiculous point of more than an hour per run and is making the game feel like such a snails pace chore that it's not worth even trying to play anymore. I am literally completely stuck due to all the game mechanics that blizzard put in place.

This is a long story. These events happened over the span of a year and there's also a lot of build up before we get into the drama. Bear with me, but context is needed for some of these incidents.
When I was 22 my sister's house got flooded from a hurricane. She, her husband, and our family all pitched in to fix it up. It was a beautiful, but expensive, remodel. Just before the remodel was complete my sister and her husband decided that they were going to move to florida because her husband received a job opportunity. I was crushed, especially since my nephew had just turned 1 and they were pregnant with their second. Since the remodel cost so much money they were hoping to make a little extra money every month by renting it out. They first asked if I would be interested in renting it. I jumped at the opportunity and was really thankful that they trusted me. I found the first 2 roomates pretty swiftly, they were students in the same college as me and we were pretty good friends already. We'll call them Nick and Sarah. Since it was a 4 bedroom 2 bath house we still needed one more roommate but most of our mutual friends weren't in a position to move out. Enter Britney. Britney was a graduate from the same major just a year or so prior. We knew her enough to think she was a good candidate as a roommate. She seemed nice and responsible and given that she was a couple years older we thought she would be flowing with maturity. There was no indication that she would end up being a complete piece of shit.
It was understood from the beginning that I would take the master bedroom since I was essentially "head of the house". I would be the one in contact with the landlords and making sure we were keeping up with the house. Nobody had an issue with this. We all contributed to the house furnishings. I brought a love seat and kitchen stuff from home, sarah brought a reclining couch, Nick brought a dining table and chairs, and Britney brought the fucking audacity. Everything else we needed we bought together and split the costs.
Because I had the primary bedroom I also had a private bathroom. I made it very clear that they could use the bathroom at any point, even if i wasn't home. My only ask was that if I was home or in my room that they would first ask/knock on the door. but if I wasn't home, it was fair game. I trusted my roommates completely and it would've been unfair if I made 3 people share one bathroom.
We moved in in February. The first month or so went well. There were no hiccups, we all seemed to be getting along great. To make things easier and more organized I created a chore chart that evenly divided the chores between the 4 of us. This was going to ensure everyone was doing their part to keep the house clean. I also made magnets with our initials on them to use for laundry days. If you wanted to do laundry, you'd have to take your magnet and place it on the day you want to do laundry. You would have that whole day to do laundry. Chores were color coded and if your name was written in a color that would be your chore for that day. It was incredibly detailed, and some may say I am really controlling for this system but it's what I thought would be the best way to delegate and make sure everything was fair. Nobody really complained about it either.
In April Britney said she was interested in gardening and having a few house plants. We were all for it, even I wanted to have a few plants. She had three small herb plants on the windowsill above the sink and it never would've been an issued if she knew how to take care of them. Unfortunately, after a while she started to over water them and gnats became a problem in the house. I told her that her plants were attracting gnats in the house and that she needed to find a way to plant them outside. I suggested she buy one of those tin tubs and start a garden in it that she could have outside. She got super pissed and offended that I would tell her how to spend her money. She even refused to accept that her plants were causing the gnats and blamed it on the trash. I even asked her to move the plants into her room if she didn't want to plant them outside and she blatantly said no. I didn't want to make a bigger deal about it so I just let it go. Eventually she stopped over watering the plants and the gnats went away.
In May chores began falling behind. It wasn't one person's fault, it was everyone's. We were all guilty of not doing what we were supposed to do. I called for a house meeting and I thought i was being empathetic and kind about the situation, since I myself was also falling behind. I wasn't trying to single anybody out and said we all needed to get back on top of our chores. Britney threw a fit and screamed that she had been doing chores and that she didn't need to be part of this meeting. She called us all dirty pigs and singled Sarah out for being the first one to ignore her kitchen night. It was incredibly rude and factually incorrect. At this point i began to realize Britney would never take accountability. I'd also like to say that the kitchen chore consisted of unloading the dishwasher in the morning and making sure it was loaded and started before bed. It was up to each person using the kitchen to clean up after themselves.
Jump to July. July I threw a party, which was approved by everyone else. It was for 4th of july and we invited friends from school. Since the majority of our guests were mutual friends between me, nick and Sarah we told Britney she could invite her own friends. She thanked us but ultimately had to work that night anyway. Since she wasn't going to be there we didn't require her to pitch in for the party. We bought stuff for burgers, hot dogs, popsicles, a few different alcoholic beverages and stuff to make various dips. We encouraged our guests to bring they're own alcohol or desserts. It was a good party. Halfway through Britney came home earlier than expected and even brought friends to the party. We hadn't anticipated or planned for them but weren't going to turn them away. They drank other people's beer without asking, helped themselves to chips and dip and leftover hot dogs. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for them drinking other people's beer. the next morning Me, Sarah and Nick were cleaning up and we all thought that since Britney and her friends came to the party that she should chip in for both the clean up and the cost. She pretty much told us to fuck off and that her friends didn't eat anything from the party....Yeah. There's that audacity.
September: this story is actually kinda funny but still a testament to how shitty she was. I was at home in the dining room doing a project for a class. I needed a wide table space so I was using the dining table. Britney brings her boyfriend over, we exchange a few hello's and they go to her room. Her door is only 10 feet away. They start playing loud country music from her room and I literally am just like "Jesus, how inconsiderate can you be. It doesn't need to be that loud" Well 5 minutes later I find out why they're playing loud ass music. I start hearing her bed hitting against the wall as well as my roommates moans. I'm sitting there in the dining room, gluing magazine pictures to a poster board, and involuntarily listening to my roommate get railed. I am dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Gobsmacked! And suddenly I just hear a loud crisp *SMACK*. At this point I am mortified. And I have no idea how she wasn't. when they finally emerged from her bedroom 10 minutes later I couldn't even look her in the eye.
In October Britney decided to host her own party, a halloween costume party. We were all game for it and she said we could invite a few of our own friends but that ultimately it was her party and she wanted it to be mostly her friends. We understood, we had our own party in july, she can have hers and we'll just invite our closer friends. We even pitched in for the alcohol and snacks. But there was one rule. No weed on property. That's a stipulation in our lease. No weed. But of course, in true Britney fashion, she completely disregards the rules and brought weed to the party anyway. Even if she didn't bring it, it was her responsibility to tell her guest to put it away. I didn't say anything to my sister, I let it slide because as much as we were beginning to hate Britney we also needed that 4th roommate. But it certainly came in handy later on.
In November me and Sarah bought a gold fish. The lease did say no pets but I don't really view a gold fish as a pet since...it literally doesn't do anything or bring any harm to the house. The fish died a few days later anyway so no harm done except to our hearts. RIP Sushi. A few days later Britney comes home with a whole ass baby bearded dragon. They are cool and since I had a fish I let this slide. Afterall. how much damage could a bearded dragon do? WELL!!!! LET ME TELL YOU! I was sitting in the living room one day watching tv and out of the corner of my eye i see a bit of movement on one of our baseboards. I get a closer look and I see it's a small baby grasshopper. I kill it and as I'm walking to the trash i see another. then another, and another and so on. Our house is INFESTED with these tiny baby grasshoppers that I know are used as food for bearded dragons. I know because the kid I nanny also has a bearded dragon. I remember finding these baby grasshoppers all over the fucking house, some dead but most were alive. In our rooms, in the common areas, the bathrooms, EVERYWHERE. I sent pictures of the dozens of piles i swept up of these grasshoppers and I sent them to Britney and said "Just so you know, your bearded dragons grasshoppers somehow got out". And you would think that a logical response from a decent human being would be "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I don't know how that happened. I'll come home ASAP to help clean up" but no. This bitch is a narcissist incapable of doing anything wrong and she responds with "Those are from outside. They're too big to be for my bearded dragon" I literally laughed outloud to myself. This was it. This was the straw that broke the horses back. Sweet and docile me broke and said "I'm not fucking stupid. They are tiny and I know they are for your pet. The boy I nanny has these for his dragon too. Come home and help clean this bullshit up"
Britney was also notorious for leaving her laundry in the washers and dryer past her laundry day. And it seemed to always effect Nick's laundry day because he would be nice and let her finish. But he had enough. So at exactly midnight he went to the laundry room, pulled her damp clothes out of the dryer and dropped them at her door in the hallway on the floor. I'm sorry but i was dying of laughter at his pettiness. We had all been tired of her antics and bullshit and it was fun having a little bit of payback. However, I will say Nick took it a step too far and banged on her door and shouted "Not your laundry day anymore bitch!" Britney's boyfriend came out and he and Nick started yelling at each other. I swear I thought a fight was seriously going to break out. I broke it up, told Britney she needed to adhere to the rules of laundry day just like the rest of us and Nick apologized for startling her. Everyone went to bed. THE NEXT MORNING, tensions are high between Nick, Britney and her boyfriend. The boyfriend, we'll call him Dick for funsies, got up in Nick's face for no reason at all. Nick was livid and asked me to reach out to to my brother in-law. My brother-in-law banned Britney from having her boyfriend over since he was creating a hostile environment and it wasn't fair to Nick since he was the one paying to live there. And if she didn't like it she could leave. She didn't and she adhered to the rule, for a time.
In December my sister and her husband came to town to do some work on the house to get it ready to be sold. We had known for a few weeks now that they were selling so we were working with them and the realtors to keep the place neat and tidy for house tours. It wasn't ideal but we understood. I'm in the living room playing with my new niece while my BIL is working on the A/C unit and who walks in? Britney and her boyfriend. Oh the joy that spread across my face in that moment. Britney and Dick went to her room and I looked at my BIL and said "that's her boyfriend". in that moment she and dick started to leave and my BIL walked out after them and gave her her official eviction notice. OH SWEET SWEET JUSTICE! Or so we thought. Britney's mommy called my BIL and begged him not to kick her out. her reason? She didn't want her to come back home. LMFAO. My BIL gave her one more chance to clean up her act but the rest of us weren't having it. We didn't care that holidays were coming, we wanted her gone. So I told him about her october party and the weed and he finally put his foot down and evicted her for real.
Unfortunately things didn't get better overnight. Britney was given a week to move her stuff out and turn in her key. One of the first things she took? Believe it or not, the outdoor trashcan (Which we all paid for) and in our city, the garbage collectors won't pick up trash unless it's in a bin. So for TWO WEEKS the city didn't pick up our trash and we had to verbally fight with Britney to get the trashcan back. It was absolute bullshit and I never wanted to strangle someone before. Not only that, but the plants she had sitting on the windowsill above the sink had papertowels sitting underneath them to absorb access water. When she removed them I saw how fucked up and bubbled the window sill had become from water damage. But at least the demon had finally been cast out and we were able to enjoy our last month in the house without her.
We never spoke or heard from Britney again...thank God.

Hi all,
I’m new to the sub. I (32F) an really struggling with moving forward. My husband (33M) and I have been married for four years. While we were dating, he told me about his porn use. Honestly, I was shocked. I’d known him since we were teenagers and he definitely wasn’t someone I suspected would use porn. He didn’t feel like it was unethical because it was mostly women self-pleasuring and posting themselves- not “traditional” studio porn. I was married before to a PA/SA who ended up meeting folks on Craigslist for annoymous sex, so I was very clear that this was a boundary for me. He was super understanding and said that he had used it infrequently and would stop. We ended up getting engaged and married.
During the first year or so, I didn’t have any suspicion that he was still using porn. One day, I found it on his phone. I was so upset and confronted him- again, he swore he’d stop. He claimed that he had been stressed and wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He did share that it had happened several times. I forgave him and thought we moved forward. I ended up getting pregnant with twins.
Last year (when the twins were around 6months old ), I found porn on an old phone. I lost it- I was completely shattered that this continued to be a problem. When I confronted him, he came clean about it. Said he’d used quite a bit while I was pregnant and post partum. I’d been super sick and on bed rest, and honestly- was so “out of it” that I didn’t notice.
I ended up taking my older kids and going to a hotel for a few days. I seriously considered leaving permanently. He took me more seriously (I think?) than he had in the past.
We haven’t had a Dday since then. I have open access to his devices (and do check). We have accountability software installed. He thinks social media is ridiculous, so doesn’t use that. Like I said- he has always been honest when I’ve confronted him about it, and he says he hasn’t relapsed. He’s an amazing father and a good husband otherwise.
My question is- how do I move on from this? My self esteem is the lowest it’s ever been. I don’t think I’m ugly, although I’m a little overweight after the birth of my twins- it’s been much harder to get back to “normal” than it was with my older girls. I know his type was blonde, small/athletic women with smaller breasts, etc. The opposite of me. Everytime I see myself in the mirror, I want to cry. I avoid looking at my body when it’s undressed because I just compare myself to these women. Sex feels disconnected- I’m constantly wondering if he’s thinking about other women or imagining them. He tries to be attentive and make sure that I’m enjoying it, but it’s been so hard. I have nightmares constantly of him leaving, cheating, looking at porn, etc. I can’t get the images of these women out of my head and it just hurts.
The other day we were in Costco when a beautiful woman walked by… who was just his type. To his defense, he didn’t bat an eye. But I had a super weird panic attack and had to walk away. Since then, I’ve spent all week upset and triggered. This seems like it happens pretty frequently. I can’t imagine going to places like the pool with him because of it. I haven’t talked to him about it because he hasn’t really done anything wrong lately- it’s all just lingering frustration and pain. I’m trying not to take it out on him, but I can’t seem to help it. He’s also not the time to give words of affirmation, and I feel like it just makes it even harder because I need that reassurance.
Has anyone been through this? How do you heal? How do you get past the pain and insecurity? I can’t seem to get into a therapist in network and I’m not sure what else to do. I’m sure that betrayal trauma in my previous marriage is part of why I can’t move forward. I want to believe he’s trying and to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever trust him or feel confident in myself again.
Thanks to anyone who read all of this. Needed to get it off my chest-there isn’t anyone in my life that I feel like I can talk to this about.

The start of this post would have been much more captivating with my original title.
Anyways, this is not my first post here. I posted some stuff before but I realized they all sounded too sad or too desperate, and that's not me anymore so let's toss that persona out the window (and into a recycling bin because I am not polluting my mind palace). Also, they attracted quite a few short term correspondence that didn't really go the way I hoped they would go. Mostly, that was my fault because i was not clear with what I was looking for, and what I was expecting. So I hope this post is a step to the right direction towards the right person.
My current situation in life leaves very limited time for socialization outside of my usual circle that is why I have turned to online dating and it hasn't been the best experience for me. Not just because most of the people I have interacted with there are horny (whether they admit to it proudly or not), but because I find it hard to build a connection with someone who always somehow finds a way to turn a conversation into overt flirting. Not that I have anything against flirting, but sometimes I just find it too cringey when it's too obvious and forced, emphasis on forced. I like natural conversations with great exchange of ideas, finding common interests and talking for days about it, and sharing the same sense of humor (which isn't hard for me cause I find humor almost everywhere) and just smiling and laughing a lot. I enjoy getting to know someone before really being into them so yeah, if you're someone like me (or me adjacent -- I don't know if that makes sense I just want to put adjacent on this post), please don't be afraid to message. Just put a little more effort (or a lot, since this post is long) than the usual "hi, how are you?" and the likes.
A little more about me, just so you know what you're getting yourself into: - I'm a medical student, but I'm graduating in July so technically I'm an unlicensed medical doctor. - If you were to ask a ten year old me if I wanted to be a doctor I would have told you no and never because I just watched The Mummy for the millionth time and I wanted to be an archaeologist. - Egyptology is not my favorite branch of archaeology, just one step above Lithics. - I've put way too much archaeology stuff here, I actually barely remember anything about it. - I love movies and I love discussing movies. I also love being funny while watching movies, especially horror and thriller ones, but only those that I am rewatching or watching with people who are too scared to watch by themselves. - I am way behind on what's new in movies and music because I like old stuff. - The previous facts obviously shows I'm into history, and can more passionately talk about it than medicine. - I also like gaming, but tend to like games that have the exploration element in it (think The Long Dark). I also just play for fun, I don't really get too competitive. - I read books, but mostly fiction, and mostly just feel good ones recently. I tend to shy away from heavy topics because I have to deal with a lot of emotions almost every day. - I also like nature, and would like to do a nature walk someday. Preferably through not so dangerous terrain with lots of trees and birds and berries I can safely eat, and not a lot of mud and heat. - Oh, I also like languages. I'm trying to learn German and Turkish right now.
A little bit more about me, physical appearance-wise (1 can send a normal human picture, if you will return the gesture): - I am short, by world average, but I am considered on the tall side in my country. - I can wear contact lenses and loves how it fools me that I haven't ruined my eyes, but I prefer eyeglasses. - I like to wear my hair on the long side, but have been contemplating cutting it short, just because. - I am average built, definitely not athletic. However, I have been looking for the time and resources to achieve a healthier body. - I clean up good, I guess.
I have put way too much in this post so I am going to stop now. If you have read through to this point then thank you and I hope I haven't bored you. Also, if you're interested in being friends (and maybe more in the future), I hope you respond to this post. And please, please, make that response something fun to read. And also, please don't be a catfish. I have a grandaunt in Louisiana who can give me a great recipe to cook you.

My boyfriend (32M) and I (28F) have been together for just over a year. We met shortly after I moved to town.
Just after our year anniversary, he asked me to move in with him. I initially said yes, I was very excited and over the moon. We are very much in love with each other, and I truly don't believe there will be anyone else for me romantically speaking. We celebrated this decision and then kind of dropped the subject for a bit, as we are both busy people. About two weeks went by after he asked me to move in with him, and we were hanging out at his place when I made a comment about one of my chairs looking good in a corner of his living room. He then made a comment about how my chair wouldn't fit in the living room, as he believes he has curated the perfect living room set up/aesthetic.
He has a very nice house that he has lived in for years and has spent good money putting in work to build his perfect home. I totally get that and I expressed that to him. However when it became clear that there would be no room for my stuff, I asked what he expected me to do with it. It is not that I hate his home or his style, in truth I really enjoy it and would absolutely have no problem living in it one day. However, as I previously stated, I had just moved to this city. I knew when I was moving that I was going to be here if not permanently then for a very long time. I only have an apartment, but I have invested a lot of money into the perfect art and furniture for my perfect set up. Some pieces that he even drove an hour to antique shop to help me pick up! The thought of not having this around definitely made me upset.
I offered to put my bedroom set in his spare room and the rest in storage, but we both have hybrid jobs and can't really afford to lose office space. When it seemed there was so compromise, I rescinded my agreement to live with him. I told him that we were clearly still in a space in our lives where we were unwilling to compromise about the aesthetic of our home, and that until we got to that point, we should still live separately. I meant this with love, and I really tried to emphasize that I do think we will get to that point, and that it is ok we aren't there yet.
He seemed to understand and accept this explanation, but has been very distant the last week or so. I tried to ask him about it after the fact, and he said that he was just upset by the fact we aren't at that point yet, despite how much we love each other. Is there a better way I can explain this to him? Obviously I am sad to not be moving in with him quite yet, but I still feel very happy and fulfilled in this relationship and it sucks that he's so upset. Like, I don't want this to feel like it's a bad thing for our relationship, which he clearly feels it is.
Alternatively, any good advice for two adults to compromise on moving in together with two homes worth of stuff?

When I was getting started, an actor I knew gave me some really good advice. While deciding whether or not to take a certain role, consider three factors: the money, the show, and the people. If at least two of those things are good, accept the job. If they’re paying you well and you love the play, you won’t mind putting up with shitty people. If it’s a great show with a cast full of friends, but you’re not getting paid so well, that’s still alright, it’ll be artistically fulfilling. If it’s a bad show but you love the cast and you’re making money, you’ll probably have the time of your life making fun of the playwright backstage and laughing all the way to the bank.
What my friend failed to mention is that as an aspiring actor, you don’t usually get to be that picky. When I got the call from my agent that a production of The Bacchae was urgently seeking a new chorus member, all I could see were dollar signs. My survival job had just fallen through (the family I nannied for was moving upstate, insisting that Manhattan had just gotten “too dangerous” for their toddler), and my savings were only going to cover my rent for another month.
It was raining the day of my audition, and my train got delayed. I showed up panting (I had to run from the subway station) and my hair a disaster. Luckily, in The Bacchae, the chorus is full of… well… Bacchae. Fervent followers of Dionysus, wild women, drunk and running through the countryside. In the climax of the play, they crowd the protagonist in a frenzy, literally ripping him limb from limb.
I’ll never know if it was my frenetic energy from barely making it to the theater on time, or my actual acting, but I got the part. My costume fitting was the next day– they weren’t kidding about urgently needing a replacement. Which thrilled me, because I wasn’t kidding about urgently needing the money. At the fitting, I discovered something my agent failed to mention about the production: this wasn’t just any version of The Bacchae, it was a recreation– an attempt to perform the play in the traditional Greek style. In other words, everyone was wearing masks.
I’ve never been fond of masks. We had to do a few assignments with them in my college acting courses; covering your face can enhance the physicality of your body, something like that. But I never liked wearing them, or seeing other people wearing them. It wouldn’t be fair to call it a full-on fear, but the stiffness, the lack of expression, gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. And wearing one, your field of vision limited, your mouth covered, making it harder to breathe, harder to project your voice– I don’t like it. It’s as simple as that.
But I needed the money. My costume wasn’t ugly, per se, just strange: a long white dress, or maybe toga is a better word, the fabric about the thickness of a burlap sack. My mask, stark white, paper mache, covering my entire face except my eyes, the mouth carved to imitate a grin. No shoes. My hair tucked into a wild black wig– we wore wigs, they explained to me, so the chorus could be identical, indistinguishable. We moved as one, spoke as one, and were meant to look like one. They even made sure to cast women of the same height. In our costumes, it was impossible to tell which of us was which.
It didn’t help that I was an outsider to the rest of the cast, joining the show weeks into rehearsals. Everyone seemed annoyed that they had to teach me the blocking, the inflection of the lines (so my voice didn’t stick out from the other chorus girls), and where to go backstage during scenes with no chorus. A few people tried to be nice to me, but quickly gave up when they realized I knew nothing about Greek theater, or masked theater, or the avant garde. My last show had been a regional production of Cats, for God’s sake. I was totally out of my element.
Things got especially sour when I tried to ask what had happened to the girl I was replacing. Nobody wanted to talk about it. People gasped when I brought it up. The clearest answer I got was a whispered, hesitant, “she fell,” but the person wouldn’t elaborate any further. The cast seemed superstitious, uncomfortable, like talking about her would cause them to suffer her fate: removal from the show. And it was clear that, aside from me, everyone else loved this show. The actor playing Dionysus, the couple of times he deigned to talk to me, just kept gushing about how honored he was to play this role, how electrifying it felt to put his history minor to use, to show people a piece of the world’s theatrical beginnings.
I thought the show was fine. Kinda boring, kinda scary. I don’t think I “get” The Bacchae. In brief, the story is about Dionysus, son of Zeus, disguised as a human. He and his followers (the chorus) show up in a town, but the leader of the town, Pentheus, is upset about it. He doesn’t understand why all these women are acting crazy, and he arrests Dionysus, not believing him to be an actual God. As punishment, Dionysus possesses Pentheus’s own mother with the same madness as his followers, and together, with their bare hands, they rip Pentheus apart. His mom walks back into town holding her son’s head, thinking it to be, in her madness, the head of a lion. When she realizes what she’s done, she is overwhelmed by grief, and futilely attempts to put Pentheus’s mutilated corpse back together. Dionysus returns, basically saying, “well, he said I wasn’t a God, and that’s blasphemous, so he got what was coming to him.” Pentheus’s mother is exiled.
It’s incredibly dark. In the reviews, critics called it daring, challenging, a bloody spectacle, a feminist masterpiece. I don’t really get what part of “a man who’s a God possesses women’s minds, driving them to murder” screams “feminism,” but hey, I’m the girl who commuted to New Jersey every day for four months to do Cats, what do I know?
Here’s something I do know: the other chorus girls did not like me. And they took their jobs seriously. As we waited to enter for each scene, there was dead quiet in the wings. Usually, there’s some light joking, maybe quickly running lines, maybe physical warmups, shaking out your nerves– I tried to do this once. Before our entrance at the top of the show, we all gathered in the stage right wing, all twelve of us, a perfect and identical dozen. It was a dress rehearsal. No audience. I did a few jumping jacks, trying to hype myself up. Another masked girl grabbed my bicep, hard. When I turned, she just shook her head “no.” Just a simple, silent, “no.” We don’t do that here. We stand silently in the wings, focusing on our craft, breathing, waiting for our entrance. I never tried it again.
When you can’t talk to your coworkers, acting becomes a lot less fun. The collaboration element is totally gone. And honestly, the “acting” element was gone for me, too. How am I supposed to find my character or sense of identity in a role when my role is “don’t let your voice stick out, don’t take a wrong step, blend in perfectly with eleven women who dislike you?”
So before the shows, instead of chatting, or doing jumping jacks, I wandered the theater. I’ve always loved theaters; the dramatic architecture, the ornate prosceniums, the stark contrast of backstage, so dark, so dusty. The theater was no Broadway house, but it had a fly system (which we didn’t use, because the Greeks wouldn’t have been able to fly anything in), just over three hundred seats (including a mezzanine– fancy!), and lots of backstage space. I could say more about it, because I spent hours during the run of the show wandering, but it wouldn’t be terribly interesting to anyone who’s not me. Just know, it was a beautiful old theater– and I mean OLD. Built in the 1910s, just before the Great Depression. I used to love imagining how many generations of people had performed on that stage, imagining what they’d think of this show, or what they’d think of me.
About a week into my wandering, on some fifteen-minute break, I was looking at the ladder that led up to the catwalk– a long, thin metal walkway stretching across the stage from above, usually used for hanging lights. I wondered how long it had been since it was used during a show. I wondered if it was even safe. What would the view be like from up there, seeing the entire stage from thirty feet in the air?
I slowly looked up the ladder. I wouldn’t actually climb it. That would be crazy, right? I’m not particularly good with heights. As my eyes lifted, I made eye contact– or rather, mask contact– with someone. A fellow chorus girl, up on the catwalk.
I stopped breathing for a second. What was she doing up there? I started to say something stupid, like, “Why are you up there?” when just as quickly as the face appeared, it vanished. I saw her white robed form retreat down the catwalk, heading for a different ladder, probably. It was weird. Why did she run? Embarrassed to be caught somewhere she shouldn’t be?
I allowed myself to entertain a little fantasy: maybe she was just like me. Maybe she also hated the other chorus girls, and didn’t “get” The Bacchae. Maybe she was exploring the theater for fun on our break, enjoying the old architecture, like I did. I had no idea who she was under the mask, and she had no idea who I was. She probably thought I was one of the normal judgemental girls, and ran off before I could tell on her to the stage manager.
I was filled with unfounded hope. Could I make a friend here? Was it possible? After two and a half weeks of silence from the other girls, it was hard to imagine. How would I find her? How would I let her know it was me– that I had seen her on the catwalk, and we were the same?
After that day, I got much more observant. When the director called for a break, instead of immediately retreating into the depths of backstage, I watched my eleven doppelgangers carefully, tracking who went for water, who went back to the dressing rooms, who ran off towards the vending machines. It was hard to tell everyone apart, but people had to take their masks off to drink water eventually. I memorized faces and tried to keep track of them. I started to get a handle on everyone’s patterns, narrowing down potential adventurers.
It was impossible. Eleven people is too many to observe. But I’m an actor. Memorizing shit is literally my job. By week four, just days from opening, I had three potential girls. I tried to stick close to them during rehearsals, picking one to follow each day, but nobody ever wandered towards the catwalk. Maybe the girl, whoever she was, had been scared away from adventuring when I caught her. I started to lose hope. We were opening soon– I should focus on making my entrances, not making friends.
But then I saw her again.
This time, it was half an hour before the curtain went up for our invited dress rehearsal. The press was there. I was nervous. I knew I had my part down, but when you’re doing a show, no matter how prepared you are, there’s always the lingering fear that you’ll freeze up, forget everything, and ruin everyone’s hard work. It just means that you care. I was surprised that I cared so much. I still didn’t even get the play. I couldn’t let the other girls see me weak. I barely show my real feelings to people I care about, much less mean actresses who look down on me. To get away from it all, I wandered down to another unused part of the stage: the orchestra pit. We did have music in the show, but the Greeks didn’t have orchestra pits. So it was closed off, being used as storage.
I loved it down there. I loved looking through the storage bins, finding props from long-forgotten productions– sometimes I would find something incredible, something I swore was from the day the theater opened, something old and valuable– and usually, I could never find it again. Those bins were a treasure trove. Of all the weird little spaces I found backstage, the pit was my favorite. I felt like a real explorer down there, illuminating my path with my phone flashlight, getting spooked when a mouse ran over my foot (of course the theater had mice, it was more than a hundred years old! And besides, every building has mice in New York City).
That day, I wasn’t there to look around. Just to sit. Just to catch my breath. I tiptoed down the creaky steps, and plopped myself on the ground, surrounded by bins. I inhaled and exhaled, smelling the mildew-y scent of old props on every side of me. And that’s when I heard a noise. Not a mouse noise– I was used to those. Something bigger. I turned my phone flashlight on immediately, calling, “hello?”
And the light landed on a mask, just like mine. Mine which was currently off, because I was doing my breathing exercises. I felt exposed– she could see my face, but I couldn’t see hers. I stood up. “You scared me!”
She didn’t respond. She looked at me for a second, and started to retreat the other way, towards the stairs at the other side of the pit.
“Wait!” I called. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you!”
She stopped for a second. But then she kept walking. I stood and followed. “Please stop. Can I at least know who you are? I don’t fit in with most of the chorus girls–”
I reached for her long white toga. I swear, I had it in my hand, but somehow, she slipped away. I staggered a bit, almost tripped, confused that I hadn’t made contact with her costume. And when I looked back up, I only saw a glimpse of her disappearing up the stairs. I tried to follow, again, but I found that side of the pit’s stairs reached a dead end. I didn’t understand how she’d gotten out. And when I looked back down at my phone, it was time for places. Disappointed and defeated, I rushed away to the other stairs, making my way to the stage right wing to wait for my entrance.
I counted heads immediately when I arrived. Maybe she hadn’t made it back yet. But, alas: twelve. All accounted for. I nudged a girl next to me, subtly. “Who was the last one here besides me?”
She just stared at me for a moment, which came off as very creepy through the blank dead stare of her mask. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? We all look exactly the same.”
I sighed. “Okay. Thanks.” For nothing, I thought bitterly.
The invited dress went well. The press liked it, as I’ve already said. I was distracted the entire time. After that day, I made it a habit to count all the girls when the stage manager called for “places.” If I was right about this girl, she, like me, would be one of the last, if not the last one there. She would be wandering, exploring, getting away from the bullies.
I wish I hadn’t done this. I wish I’d given up when she disappeared on a dead-end staircase. I wish I’d never seen her on the catwalk. Because when I started counting heads, I noticed something impossible. Sometimes, before we went on, I counted thirteen identical masked faces.
It was a chorus of twelve. It was supposed to be twelve. I’d recount. Recount again. Thirteen. A chill went down my spine. We all looked the same. Same masks, same togas, same wigs. Who was the imposter? How could anyone be an imposter? It didn’t make sense. How would they get into the theater? How would they get a costume?
I started counting more often. Between scenes, in the dressing rooms, even on stage during dull moments. It fluctuated. Sometimes I’d count twelve for a whole day, an entire show, and sigh in relief, feeling like some curse was broken. But the next day, at least once, I’d count thirteen.
And it seemed as if one masked pair of eyes was always trained on me. I don’t know how she knew it was me. We looked the same. But she’d stare. It felt scary, but also ridiculous– I couldn’t be sure it was the same person looking every time. I couldn’t be sure it was unlucky number thirteen. But I felt like it was.
I felt a lot of things. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone. The other girls already didn’t like me– I couldn’t have them thinking I was crazy. And admitting the presence of the thirteenth would mean admitting to my adventures into forbidden backstage areas. I couldn’t lose this job. I was living paycheck to paycheck. I wasn’t eating well, or sleeping well– maybe this was all a hallucination. And somehow, my biggest feeling was that if I told someone about the thirteenth, I’d never see her again.
And I needed to see her again. The obsession had only gotten stronger. I knew, somehow, deep inside, that she was the one I had seen on the catwalk and in the orchestra pit. I no longer wanted to be her friend– I wanted to corner her. To ask who she was, and why she was sneaking in as if she was one of us. I wanted to ask what she wanted from me.
Because she must want something from me, right? Why else would she stare? Why would she appear only to me?
The timing never lined up. The show had opened at this point, and I had a job to do: delighting the audience. I couldn’t skip my entrance to catch number thirteen. The chorus formations would look ridiculous with a missing person. And as much as the other girls hated me, I owed it to them as my costars to make them look good.
Logically, I knew there was only one person the thirteenth could be: Catalina, the actress I’d replaced. She must be jealous of me. Bitter. Maybe she wanted to take my role, like I’d taken hers. It would be insane, but it was all that made sense. She was the only other person who had the costume, who knew the keypad code to get into the theater. She must have recovered from her fall and come to find me.
It was almost like a game. It definitely made the show more interesting for me. Before I realized what was happening, I dreaded performances. I felt stupid, taking on this role in a show I didn’t even understand. But now I had so much to do. I had to plan.
I started showing up early, an hour before my call time. I walked my old spots, thinking I may see her. The other chorus girls were impressed that I was showing up early, thinking it showed some sort of dedication to the show. I think they even started to hate me less. They still detested any attempts at conversation in the wings, but in the dressing room, I started to have a few breakthroughs. In particular, I started a semi-friendship with Erin. Ironically, she had been one of the three women I thought may be the thirteenth, until I realized the thirteenth wasn’t really one of us at all.
She was the only person who I could actually ask about Catalina. “Did she ever say anything about the theater? The building, I mean? Did she have a favorite part of it?”
Erin would laugh at my seemingly random specificity. “We weren’t close, Michelle. I have no idea what she thought about the theater.”
“What did she do on her breaks?”
Erin thought for a second. “I don’t know. I never saw her at the vending machines, or the dressing room. I guess she found some quiet place to run lines.”
That confirmed it, for me. A quiet place like the catwalk. Or the orchestra pit. We were three weeks into our five week run when I came up with a plan to catch Catalina. It wasn’t a great plan, and I had no idea if it would work, but showing up an hour early every day was making me tired and producing zero results. I needed a new strategy. I realized that after seeing her in the pit, I only ever saw the thirteenth when all twelve of us were together.
So I told a white lie. One night after the show, when everyone was changing in the dressing room, I appealed to my fellow chorus girls. “Are you guys busy before the show tomorrow?” I innocently asked. “I’m feeling a little shaky on some of the entrances. If we could all get here just twenty minutes before our call time tomorrow, I’d love to run some stuff with you guys. I’ve been running it on my own, but without the entire team, I don’t always remember where I fit.”
To my surprise and intense joy, everyone agreed. They really did seem to respect me more when I looked like I was taking my role seriously. I could barely sleep that night, I was so excited to see if my plan worked. And hey, if it didn’t, I had two more weeks of shows to think up something else.
It was a Sunday night, our last show of the week. Mondays are often “dark days” in professional theater, meaning there are no shows that day to give the team a rest. I had planned this on purpose– if I failed, I had a dark day to reflect on that failure and try again.
At 5:40, twenty minutes before our call time, all the girls were assembled and in costume. We started running entrances. After ten minutes, I thought my plan had failed. We had run our first three entrances, and I never counted more than twelve heads in the wings. But around 5:55, as we got to our entrances in act two, offstage, I locked eyes with a mask. A thirteenth mask.
I quickly told everyone “I think I got it, you guys, thank you so much for coming early!” Everyone mumbled that it was no problem, that they were happy to help.
The thirteenth mask broke eye contact with me, looking around in confusion– perhaps distress. The girls started to trickle back towards the dressing room. The thirteenth turned and power-walked away. I shoved through the crowd to catch her, not calling out like I had in the past. I knew she didn’t respond to that. I knew I had to catch her now or never. Once we were out of the crowd’s eyeline, I began to run. She ran, too. “You’re not getting away this time!” I yelled, like some kind of cartoon superhero. My adrenaline was pumping, and blood rushed to my ears.
After I yelled, I suddenly became aware of another set of running feet behind me. “Michelle? Where are you going?” It was Erin’s voice.
“Don’t follow me!” I hastily called back, picking up speed. The thirteenth also picked up speed. Though she was running just as fast as I was, she showed no signs of exertion. I couldn’t hear heavy breathing, or heavy feet on the floor. It was like she was gliding. It infuriated me.
Erin didn’t let up. “Michelle, the stage manager is gonna wonder where we are!”
I ignored her. The thirteenth rounded a corner, and I realized where she was going: the catwalk. The ladder.
She ascended the rungs rapidly, like a spider. I clamored up much less gracefully. Erin’s voice had a heavy tinge of concern. “Michelle, what are you doing?! It’s not safe up there!”
“Then don’t follow me!” I yelled back, exasperated. “This is between me and her!” Despite my vocal warning, I heard Erin climbing behind me.
Once on the metal rail, I looked both ways, terrified she’d escaped me again. But her white toga was just a few feet away, retreating into darkness. I lunged at her. The entire catwalk shook. The thirteenth and I both grabbed the railing to steady ourselves. We met eyes. Or rather, we met masks.
“You have nowhere to go.” I stated.
I heard Erin reaching the top of the ladder behind me. “Michelle, come down, please. You’re scaring me.”
“I can’t. I finally have her.” I took a step towards the thirteenth. She took an equal and opposite step back. “Take the mask off.” I beckoned her. “I know it’s you, Catalina.”
I felt the rail shake slightly as Erin got on it. “What are you talking about, Michelle?!”
“She’s been sneaking in, Erin! She’s been standing in the wings with us before we enter! For weeks!” I took another step towards the thirteenth. In my peripheral vision, I could see how high we were above the stage. Thirty feet. You could die, falling from that height.
“It’s not Catalina. It can’t be. Stop this.” Erin called. Finally, frustrated, I turned towards her.
“Who else could it be?!”
Erin had taken her mask off. Her face was streaked with terror. “Catalina died, Michelle. She fell off this catwalk, directly onto her face, and she died. Please come down with me. I don’t know who you’re talking to, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t worth it.”
“What are you talking about? I’m talking to–”
I turned back, and she was gone. Vanished like a bad dream. “I swear to God, Erin.” I started to say. “She was right in front of me. I chased her here–”
I turned back to Erin. The thirteenth was behind her.
It made no sense. Nobody can move that fast. Nobody can be in front of me one second and behind me the next. It was inhuman. I stopped speaking. I stopped breathing. It sucks to learn that in a fight-or-flight situation, my answer is to freeze.
Erin must’ve seen how my face changed. “Michelle?” She asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”
Behind her, the thirteenth raised a hand to her mask. Her hands were impossibly pale. How had I never noticed that before? She gripped the mask in her hand. Time stretched. It must’ve only been a second, because Erin didn’t move. But it felt like years of my life passed me by as the thirteenth, inch by inch, raised her mask from her face. Or– raised her mask.
Because there was no face.
Under the mask, pale and gruesome, was a bloody flat edge. Broken, disgusting, it was impossible to make out eyes, or a nose, or a mouth. Inside a somewhat face-shaped frame of stark-white skin, all I could see was flesh, red and raw, squished in on itself. Like someone had fallen from a very high height. And landed on their face.
By the time I finally began to react, it was too late. The thirteenth– or, Catalina– or, the ghost, or– whatever the fuck that thing was. It moved its hands from the mask to Erin’s shoulders. And it pushed. And she screamed, agonizingly loud, as she flew over the side of the railing. And she screamed for the second or so she was in the air. I was screaming, too. And after the crunch of her body hitting the wooden floor of the stage, everyone else screamed, cast and crew alike.
I stared down at her limp form from thirty feet up. Her legs were twisted the wrong way. A pool of blood began to seep out of her. When I looked up again, I expected the thirteenth to be gone, but it wasn’t. With no eyes, it was also looking down at Erin. At what it had done.
And then, slowly, it turned towards me. On all fours, backwards, I scrambled away from it on the catwalk, terrified, not wanting to be next. The thirteenth’s shoulders shook rapidly, like a person laughing. But it made no sound. It never made a sound. Not going up the stairs of the orchestra pit. Not when it pushed Erin. And not as it climbed back down the ladder, rung by rung. I found myself alone on the catwalk.
Erin survived, somehow, paralyzed from the waist down. Apparently she fell on her legs, which, when you’re falling from thirty feet up, is a good thing. If she’d gone down head first, there was no chance. The show had to close, of course. When they lost Catalina a few weeks into rehearsal, she was replaceable. But with me refusing to go on, and Erin in the hospital, there was nothing to be done. I haven’t seen Erin since that day. I feel too guilty. But I was never arrested, so I guess she told the authorities that I didn’t push her. I don’t know what she told them. I don’t know what I would’ve told them, had they asked me.
I don’t do stage plays anymore. The family I used to nanny for gave me a star-studded recommendation, and now I make my living taking care of a five-year-old and a two-year-old for another filthy-rich family. I still act, but I only audition for film work.
I don’t even see plays these days. I won’t set foot in a theater. If the thirteenth had vanished off that catwalk, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could chalk it up to an extreme hallucination, some terrifying creature my mind brewed up to cope with the stress of the show and paying rent. Maybe I could even forget its bloody mess of viscera in the vague shape of a face.
But I saw it go down that ladder. Rung by fucking rung. And I know it’s still out there.
Erin was unlucky. Erin was a victim of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And if I step inside a theater again, some way, somehow, I know the thirteenth will get me on another catwalk.
This time, I’ll be the one going over the railing.
And I’ve never once landed on my feet.

Build Help/Ready:

So I've had my PC for 8 Years now and I've run into some issues lately with games just, turning my computer off. Besides that, a lot of modern games stutter. Clearly something is wrong here as I've checked the connections and cleaned it out, so I can only assume something is dying.
I've been thinking of upgrading for a while now but not really sure where to start. Really, I'm wondering if someone more computer-literate can look at my current specs and be able to discern the biggest issue.
Operating System -Windows 10 Home 64-bit CPU - Intel Core i7 4790K @ 4.00GHz 57 °C Haswell 22nm Technology RAM - 16.0GB Dual-Channel DDR3 @ 799MHz (10-10-10-30) Motherboard - ASRock H97M Pro4 (CPUSocket) 39 °C Graphics - 2047MB NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2060 (EVGA) Storage - 1863GB Seagate ST2000NM 0033-9ZM175 SCSI Disk Device (SATA)

edit: also a good read: https://prismlauncher.org/news/cf-compromised-alert/

(this includes big accounts)
Coming from a discord announcement on the Iris Project server (seems to be the first/fastest place this was reported to me):

We have reason to believe Curseforge, or at least many accounts on Curseforge, have been hacked and are uploading malicious files containing bot-nets. Luna Pixel Studios, the owner of many big modpacks, is one of the affected accounts.

For the time being, I'd recommend not downloading or even updating modpacks until the situation clears, as it's still being looked into
Another very important wall of text from the announcement, that explains the severity of this hack very well (many popular mods as well):

Chorb, admin for Luna Pixel studios:
Hi, LPS dev here, would like to clear up a few things:
As of a couple hours ago, tens of mods & modpacks, mostly on 1.16.5, 1.18.2 and 1.19.2 have been updated to include malicious files. These projects include When Dungeons Arise, Sky Villages, and the Better MC modpack series. The Curseforge profile of these accounts show someone logging into them directly.
It is very likely that someone has access to several large Curseforge profiles and have found a way of bypassing 2FA to log into them.
You can see here that the Fabulously Optimized team was also affected: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/790275974503202857/1115801834746023946/image.png
One of the malicious mods, DungeonsX, shows this code when decompiled: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/790275974503202857/1115801511411335228/image.png
The main payload being sent from this code can be viewed here:
The DungeonsX mod downloads a java class and loads it into Minecraft, executes a function that downloads the program again, and saves it as a self running file. This mod has been added to all of Luna Pixel Studio's modpacks, and the files were immediately archived by the bad actor. It can be assumed that these files will become available again later, exposing hundreds of thousands of people to malware.
This code allows the mod to be used as a botnet and leave a backdoor on devices: https://chorb.is-from.space/DiscordPTB_gzDJsWklzc.png
The code being executed mainly targets Linux users, likely with the intent of infecting servers. This will still affect people on Windows.

Chorb says the accounts were accessed about an hour ago (from the time of this edit), if you have downloaded or ran any modpack recently I'd strongly recommend checking the following (info from Chorb as well):
"To remove this from your system, if you have it, please do the following:
For Unix: ~/.config/.data/lib.jar
For Windows: %LOCALAPPDATA%/Microsoft Edge/libWebGL64.jar or ~/AppData/Local/Microsoft
Edge/libWebGL64.jar
If you see a file named libWebGL64.jar, delete it. You will need to enable "View Hidden Files" for the file to appear, if it exists. You can find guides for this online." note: You will ALSO need to DISABLE "Hide protected operating system files" for the file to appear this is only now mentioned in the blog post
I also recommend downloading the Everything tool (super fast file searches) and looking up the libWebGL64.jar file and others that are confirmed to be related to (or are) the malicious files. Do note that even if you deleted the jar, you might still be infected or at risk.
Update: please check this regularly https://www.virustotal.com/gui/ip-address/85.217.144.130/relations, this is the ip that the trojans (the dropped files specifically) communicate with, it will add .jars that it detects with time.
Curseforge be a normal platform challenge (IMPOSSIBLE) (GONE WRONG)