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EDIT: for all you sending me death threats, you’re showing everyone how violent MAGA is. Here are my reasons on why I believe he is the worst president of all time: Insider trading: At least two members of Trump’s cabinet sold substantial stock holdings just before his April 2025 “Liberation Day” tariff announcement, which triggered a $2.4 trillion market sell-off. Attorney General Pam Bondi sold between $1.25 million and $5.5 million in Trump Media shares the same day the tariffs were announced — before markets crashed. Rep. Jamie Raskin formally requested a DOJ Inspector General investigation, writing the conduct “bears all the hallmarks of insider trading.” Senators Warren, Schumer, and others called on the SEC to investigate whether Trump himself engaged in insider trading or market manipulation after he posted “GREAT TIME TO BUY” on social media hours before announcing a tariff pause that sent stocks surging Gaza/Israel: Despite famine conditions in Gaza and rising civilian casualties, and while major U.S. allies like Germany and the UK suspended arms exports to Israel. Trump maintained what the Chicago Council on Global Affairs characterized as “unconditional backing” for Israel throughout the conflict. 48 members of Congress wrote to Trump noting Israel violated its ceasefire agreement over 700 times in under three months, including killing two brothers aged 8 and 10 in a drone strike, while aid delivery fell far below the required 600 trucks per day. Epstein files: Trump promised voters he would release the Epstein files, but after taking office resisted doing so for months. When the DOJ finally released a memo in July 2025, it contradicted AG Bondi’s earlier statement that a “client list” existed, drawing outrage from Trump’s own base. The released files revealed Trump flew on Epstein’s private jet at least eight times between 1993 and 1996, including flights where Ghislaine Maxwell was also a passenger. A 2020 federal prosecutor email noted Trump “traveled on Epstein’s private jet many more times than previously reported.” Trump has not been accused of criminal wrongdoing, but Congress ultimately had to pass the Epstein Files Transparency Act by a 427–1 vote to force the release, which the DOJ then violated by missing its legal deadline and releasing documents with hundreds of fully blacked-out pages Inflation: Trump’s tariffs represent the largest U.S. tax increase as a percentage of GDP since 1993, amounting to an average tax increase of $1,500 per household in 2026. The OECD projected U.S. GDP growth would fall from 2.8% in 2024 to just 1.6% in 2025 and 1.5% in 2026 due to “rising trade costs” from the tariffs. Analysis by economist Ernie Tedeschi found Trump’s agenda has produced stagflation, slower growth and faster inflation simultaneously, with tariffs alone responsible for nearly a full percentage point of additional inflation in 2025. Gas prices: Trump repeatedly promised to cut gas prices below $2 per gallon. Prices dropped from $3.20 to $3.02 per gallon during his first year, a 6% decrease, nowhere near his pledge, while electricity prices rose 6.7% and home gas bills climbed 5.2%. Then the Iran war erased even those modest gains: between February 27 and mid-May 2026, WTI crude oil prices surged 53.2%, with gasoline and diesel prices up roughly 51.5% and 49.8% respectively. By April 2026, the national average gas price was $4.24 per gallon, up from $3.30 a year earlier, with gas exceeding $5 per gallon in seven states Iran war: In late February 2026, Trump launched a large-scale military campaign against Iran and called for regime change, acts of war undertaken without congressional authorization, in violation of the Constitution’s assignment of war powers to Congress. The Trump administration offered shifting justifications, including claims of a preemptive strike against a possible Iranian attack, which other officials said wasn’t real, and joining an Israeli strike that was going to happen “with or without the United States.” Sen. Adam Schiff stated: “This war was illegal from the start, there was no attack on the United States, there was no imminent threat of attack. Even under the War Powers Act, the president doesn’t get 60 days to make war without congressional approval in the absence of any imminent threat.” A former Republican National Committee chairman and U.S. Army JAG officer wrote that Trump “incompetently and smugly led the world into economic disaster and shown indifference to the loss of innocent lives,” noting U.S. forces launched 55 military airstrikes on vessels in international waters, killing at least 174 civilians without provocation and without congressional oversight. Scholarly Rankings: The 2024 Presidential Greatness Project Expert Survey, sent to over 525 social science experts in presidential politics and peer-reviewed scholars , yielded 154 responses and determined Trump was the worst president in U.S. history, even accounting for participants’ political views. Trump scored just 10.92 out of 100, where 0 = failure and 100 = great. For comparison, James Buchanan, long considered the gold standard of bad presidents scored 16.71, and Abraham Lincoln topped the list at 93.8 Immigration and due process: Deportations of individuals to third countries without hearings, including cases where courts ordered returns and the administration defied those rulings. Judiciary and Press attacks: Unprecedented attacks on judges by name, attempts to sanction law firms, and pulling security clearances from political opponents. National Debt: The “One Big Beautiful Bill” projected to add trillions to the deficit while cutting Medicaid and food assistance for lower-income households. As well as making it more difficult for medical students to receive financial aid and federal loans in the middle of a physician shortage. Federal workforce: Mass firing of federal employees, gutting of agencies like USAID, CDC, and the Department of Education, with courts ruling several cuts illegal. Data leaks: Senior cabinet officials including the Defense Secretary shared live military strike details for the Yemen Houthi attack in an unsecured group chat that accidentally included a journalist. REFERENCES: https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/historians-voted-trump-worst-president-ever/ https://www.axios.com/2024/02/19/presidents-survey-trump-ranks-last-biden-14th https://www.upi.com/Top_News/US/2024/02/19/presidential-greatness-survey-2024-trump-biden/9601708357197/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Historical_rankings_of_presidents_of_the_United_States https://www.cnn.com/2021/06/30/opinions/c-span-historian-survey-donald-trump-ranking-balcerski https://www.congress.gov/bill/117th-congress/house-resolution/24/text https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/read-trumps-full-response-to-house-democrats-arguments-for-impeachment https://www.cbsnews.com/sanfrancisco/news/house-democrats-file-impeachment-charge-accusing-trump-of-incitement-of-insurrection/ https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/3/25/yemen-war-plans-what-did-trump-aides-leak-to-the-atlantic-in-signal-chat https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-officials-accidentally-shared-yemen-war-plans-group/story?id=120106043 https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/white-house-denies-war-plans-classified-information-discussed/story?id=120126088 https://readsludge.com/2025/05/19/trump-cabinet-members-sold-millions-in-stock-before-tariff-crash/ https://thehill.com/homenews/senate/5244469-trump-insider-trading-investigation/ https://www.schiff.senate.gov/?p=9694 https://democrats-judiciary.house.gov/UploadedFiles/2025-05-20.Raskin_to_Horowitz_DOJ_OIG_re_Bondi_Insider_Trading.pdf https://pocan.house.gov/media-center/press-releases/pocan-dean-lead-letter-trump-violations-ceasefire-gaza https://globalaffairs.org/research/public-opinion-survey/republicans-favor-trump-approach-israel-hamas-war https://theintercept.com/2025/12/24/gaza-israel-palestine-ceasefire/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epstein_files https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epstein_Files_Transparency_Act https://www.npr.org/2025/12/23/nx-s1-5653302/more-epstein-files-released-trump-mentioned https://www.npr.org/2025/08/22/nx-s1-5508871/trump-bondi-epstein-files-release-history https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/what-the-latest-epstein-files-release-reveals-and-where-trump-is-mentioned https://www.jpmorgan.com/insights/global-research/current-events/us-tariffs https://taxfoundation.org/research/all/federal/trump-tariffs-trade-war/ https://time.com/7290808/trump-tariffs-oecd-economic-forecast/ https://fortune.com/2025/04/05/trump-tariffs-us-recession-outlook-gdp-unemployment-stagflation-inflation-fed/ https://www.americanprogress.org/article/the-trump-administrations-policies-have-hurt-growth-jobs-and-prices/ https://www.epi.org/publication/the-trump-administrations-macroeconomic-agenda-harms-affordability-and-raises-inequality/ https://news.oilandgaswatch.org/post/in-trumps-first-year-fuel-prices-and-energy-jobs-fall-far-short-of-campaign-promises https://www.americanprogress.org/article/the-trump-administrations-tariffs-and-iran-war-will-cause-americans-to-face-higher-prices-this-summer/ https://www.reed.senate.gov/news/releases/studies-show-trump-policies-are-causing-gas-prices-to-surge-and-fueling-higher-costs-on-consumers_businesses https://www.politifact.com/factchecks/2025/may/20/scott-bessent/gasoline-prices-fallen-trump-crude-oil/ https://www.commoncause.org/resources/trumps-iran-war-is-illegal-and-congress-must-stop-it/ https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/white-house/trump-congressional-authorization-iran-military-operation-war-powers-rcna343094 https://www.cnn.com/2026/05/01/politics/iran-war-60-day-deadline-congress https://thehill.com/opinion/congress-blog/foreign-policy/5862749-iran-war-congress-oversight/ https://reason.com/2026/05/05/congress-and-the-executive-enabled-illegal-war-in-iran/ https://fortune.com/2026/05/05/iran-war-oil-prices-mark-zandi-donald-trump-tariffs/ https://www.npr.org/2025/05/21/nx-s1-5406208/trump-administration-defends-flight-of-migrants-to-third-countries https://www.courthousenews.com/judge-bars-trump-administration-from-removing-people-to-third-countries-without-due-process/ https://humanrightsfirst.org/library/court-finds-trump-administrations-third-country-removal-policy-is-unlawful-vacates-the-policy/ https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/federal-judge-murphy-trump-third-country-deportations-unlawful-rcna260684 https://www.cbsnews.com/news/trump-ice-asylum-cases-deportations/ https://www.democracydocket.com/news-alerts/justice-department-drop-defense-trump-executive-orders-law-firms/ https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2026/05/doj-confession-terrible-trump-executive-order.html https://firstamendment.mtsu.edu/article/trumps-executive-orders-against-law-firms/ https://news.bloomberglaw.com/business-and-practice/trumps-targeting-of-law-firms-over-security-questioned-by-judges https://thehill.com/regulation/court-battles/5878383-federal-appeals-court-trump-law/ https://www.commonwealthfund.org/publications/issue-briefs/2025/jun/how-medicaid-snap-cutbacks-one-big-beautiful-bill-trigger-job-losses-states https://www.cnbc.com/2025/07/10/trumps-big-beautiful-bill-cuts-snap-for-millions-of-families.html https://govfacts.org/money/social-safety-net/medicare-medicaid/how-the-one-big-beautiful-bill-targets-medicare-and-medicaid/ https://www.cbpp.org/research/food-assistance/by-the-numbers-harmful-republican-megabill-takes-food-assistance-away-from https://www.cspi.org/cspi-news/big-beautiful-bill-threats-snap-school-meals-and-more https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2025_United_States_federal_mass_layoffs https://www.govexec.com/transition/2025/04/project-2025-wanted-hobble-federal-workforce-doge-has-hastily-done-and-more/404390/ https://www.govexec.com/workforce/2025/09/trumps-mass-probationary-firings-were-illegal-judge-concludes-he-wont-order-re-hirings/408111/ https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/doges-usaid-dismantling-likely-violates-the-constitution-judge-rules https://democrats-budget.house.gov/resources/report/doges-mass-firings-result-gutted-services-and-higher-costs https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/3/25/yemen-war-plans-what-did-trump-aides-leak-to-the-atlantic-in-signal-chat https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-officials-accidentally-shared-yemen-war-plans-group/story?id=120106043 https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/white-house-denies-war-plans-classified-information-discussed/story?id=120126088 submitted by /u/Glittering_Paint7813 to r/allthequestions [link] [comments]

Three years ago a family friend died. He was a Korean veteran, post office worker, father, grandfather and loyal husband. He spent his life in service to his country and his family. People showed up wearing flip flops to his service. Men wearing Hawaiian shirts or untucked polos. Last weekend I went to a wedding. There was a man wearing a backwards baseball cap and an untucked shirt. Men wearing an all black outfit with pet hair, no jacket or belt, running shoes, hair and beards looking like absolute ass like they just woke up. Meanwhile, the bride and groom look incredible. Men, please buy a suit and get it tailored and keep it for special occasions. Buy one from a thrift store if you can't afford something new. Show some respect to the family during times of celebration or grieving. Show that you care, please. submitted by /u/bored_as_fuck_dad to r/Vent [link] [comments]

So, I have about 100ft of shared fencing. I’ve taken care of all the large bamboo on my side and am working on the roots. My neighbor probably won’t get to his for years. I want to build a barrier between my yard and his to prevent bamboo from growing into my yard. I am hoping to rent a trencher, buy a barrier, and fill it in with concrete behind the barrier on my side about 2-3 ft deep. What is your recommendation to make this project happen? Any suggestions on how to make it easier? Appreciate any and all help! Edit: Thank you for all of the advice. The bamboo was on both sides of the fence when we bought the house. Neighbor is a nice guy who works hard. He is taking care of as much bamboo as he can, but he won’t get to the big parts for a while. I just want to protect my side of the yard until he does. 2nd edit: I have not found any roots deeper then 1 foot. It is running bamboo for sure. It reaches about 5 ft into my yard and about 20 into neighbors (little bamboo shoots) 3rd edit: Neighbors bamboo is behind a lot of different items ranging from a shed to stacked wood etc. it would take a lot of time and effort to get to his side of the bamboo. It would be easier to contain my side then to get to his. We are also located in shoreline Connecticut. Soil is soft loamy. 4th edit: I won’t be seeking legal action against my neighbor. 😂😂😂 5th edit: moving is not an option either. Wife and I love our house. We plan to live here for ever. Great neighbors, great location. We are beyond happy. 6th edit: I’m surprised no one has suggested under ground mole men guards, a moat filled with sharks with laser beams on their head, or ground mounted ai powered turrets that target bamboo rhizomes. 7th edit: thanks to everyone for the advice. I’ve decided to go with a trencher, dig a trench the length of the fence. Install an hdpe barrier 3ft deep with 2 inches above ground. I’m going to install it at an angle to promote root growth towards the surface. I’m am going to fill both neighbors side with small rocks and keep dirt on my side. After I finish this, I will remove the rest of the rhizomes in my yard as best I can. The rest of the shoots will be cut down once they reach 6 inches in height or before they sprout leaves to help use up the rhizomes energy Hope this works! submitted by /u/grnteam23 to r/landscaping [link] [comments]

The fact I have to make the post is slightly concerning. But lets go through some shit. We have seen growth recently and as subs get bigger they get more bad actors and posts end up on r/all and r/popular more which can move to a culture change. This post will address a few topics and how they stand. The sub's premise isn't changing The satirical rules 1/2 are still in effect and aren't going away. This is a place to allow people to vent freely and shit. There is a fine-line to walk between satirical and "autistic supremacy" and honestly if in doubt report the comments and a mod will take a look. We are fine with venting and satirical replacements of ND with NT. Autistic/Aspie supremacism and ND/Autistic sucessionism/Neurostates Yeah no this is just fucked if you think about it critically. Any of this shit will be removed under rule 14 and lead to post removals and potentially bans depending on how revolting it is. Shocking nobody its generally white men who want this and its very strongly linked to far-right and nazi shit. General rule 14 stuff Last few weeks we have gotten more comments by people who have some fucked opinions. There is no systemic, historical or structrual discrimiation of Men. Its not compartable to Misogyny at all. Women hating men is a reaction to Misogyny and generally abuse by men. And largely came about as a result of Misogyny. The term misandry originated in the late 19th century as an epithet for first-wave feminism, drawing an equivalence between hatred of men and misogyny, the hatred of women Some reading for people i guess. https://medium.com/@thegianaedit/misandry-isnt-the-problem-misogyny-always-was-398b54bee6bd https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/03616843231202708 To quote Malcolm X generally: For the white man to ask the black man if he hates him is just like the rapist asking the raped, or the wolf asking the sheep, ‘Do you hate me?’ The white man is in no moral position to accuse anyone else of hate! Why, when all of my ancestors are snake-bitten, and I’m snake-bitten, and I warn my children to avoid snakes, what does that snake sound like accusing me of hate-teaching? If you have these sorts of fucked opinions about racism/misandry/etc. kindly fuck off to a different subreddit. Same for supporting zionism. Please report anyone spreading hatred so a moderator can ban them. Go read shit and dont expect minorities to do the emotional labour of having to explain shit to you. To reiterate the point from the start of this year. It is not on a minority to educate you about how something is for example racist. There are plenty of fucking resources on the internet, go research and read and understand. Podcasts, books, videos, courses, however you learn there is shit for you. To end this, please report shit. We will ban people. Also a reminder, you can find links to DIY E/T on the subreddit sidebar. Edit: Clarrification: https://www.reddit.com/r/evilautism/comments/1t2ur21/clarification_on_trans_men_and_transmasculine/ submitted by /u/Altruistic_Fox5036 to r/evilautism [link] [comments]

my boss has banned hot take-out food at lunch Originally posted to Ask A Manager TRIGGER WARNING: Hostile Workplace and sexual harassment Original Post Feb 6, 2015 I work as an administrator in a sales office with a lot of unspoken rules, varying from black shirts being banned from the dress code (“it looks like you work in a phone shop”) to all staff must attend mandatory month-end events and splash a large amount of money on alcohol, despite different salary levels and commitments. One of the new rules that have come into place is absolutely no hot take-away food. I can imagine this would work fantastically for an office surrounded by a variety of places to pick up less offensive, lack of greasy food. However we are essentially in the middle of nowhere. The closest places to grab lunch are a fish and chip shop, a “dirty chicken” shop (I wouldn’t even class it as food; it makes KFC look gourmet), and a butchers/sandwich shop that opens while we are not allowed to leave the office and closes before I can even step foot outside for my break. Anything that staff could get to with their vehicles would make them completely go over their allocated lunches and is a huge no-no in our company. The reason for the rule is a combination of the director wanting a healthier office (he’s joined the gym and gotten a bit into shape) and wanting no offensive odors from takeaways. It’s started to border on bullying as one person who was absent last week popped out and picked up a breaded chicken wrap. The director saw the bag and well…went a bit mad to say the least. The rule was loudly reiterated and a few backhanded comments about rising obesity within the company. A lot of people are very angry. A lot of staff feel very belittled and treated like children in regards to some of the rules already in place. I’m lucky in the sense that I have different hours from the rest of my colleagues (standard 9-5 job) so I have time to swing by a nice deli near my home before work. A few things have cropped up: I’m seen as a voice on the shoulder to the managing director and unofficial HR, so a lot of the staff (even senior management!) are asking me to try and bring it up with him to persuade him to change his mind. Unofficially the idea is being thrown about by the managing director and senior management that I do a lunch-run before work, which I’m extremely unhappy about. I don’t drive so I’d have to struggle with 13+ people’s lunches on foot. A few colleagues who have excellent working relationships will on the odd occasion ask me to grab a couple of things, which I’m happy to do (and the favour is returned in and outside of work). There is an unspoken statement that hey, if I do it for those two people, why not the whole office? What would you recommend as a diplomatic way to go about this? I can’t really put into words how angry this has made staff here. This new rule has tipped the scales and there is a lot of grumbling this morning. And it’s made me download a few cooking book apps for making my lunch before work! Update 1 May 15, 2015 (3 months later) Unfortunately, it’s a very annoying update from my end (but hopefully in the near future a very positive one!) In regards to the lunch rules, they’ve taken root and everyone else has fallen into place with it. I’m no longer asked to go out and pick up lunches on behalf of the whole office, as I learned to stand my ground. Once I structured it in the way that the company would lose essential administrative support if I’m out of the office for too long, staff stopped asking. It’s not the best situation for those who are forgetful and other reasons, but the majority of the office look out for each other in regards to food. Now for the frustration…I had mentioned in the comments about other bizarre rules in place, one being the mandatory fun. It’s expected that every payday, unless if you have a “genuine reason,” you are to attend mandatory events where you pay money for a variety of events, including going for food (but mostly alcohol). I’m not on the same salary scale and commission as my other colleagues, so what pay I receive I do need to budget accordingly. My non-attendance has been brought up in the past in passing (but mostly from my office more in the sense of “please come out, you are lovely company”). I’m far from a person who lets someone spend money on me, and even that has been thrown about and I’ve shot that down as I don’t want to feel awkward and a bit of a leech. The morning of our last social, I came into work to an email sent to all about internal opportunities and specifications for all roles within our company. I opened a few up and scrolled to this gem (intercompany lingo changed to protect myself): “Attend Socials, Summer Events, and Festive Teapot Parties on a regular basis and keep in mind these dates when arranging activities outside work. Seek permission from line manager when attendance is impossible and previous personal bookings cannot be changed.” To say I was livid was an understatement. This is listed as essential for not only generic duties but to also progress within ANY role. I’d already put down a bit of a deposit towards this social so I bit my tongue and attended (one meal, one drink and then an early night). I was then pulled into a somewhat drunken conversation with the director who made up the food rules who proceeded to tell me there and then that the training I’d been requesting (with payment plans for courses, a proposal to undertake it part-time, and work during the weekend to make up for any time missed) were not going ahead as “there’s no point in paying for you to leave” and that he MAY pay for it out of his own pocket in 2016. I also got a spiel about how I did the work of four people yet they have no more money in the budget to give to me so I needed to give up any career ideas (?!). Followed by a somewhat offensive chat about how much the single men in the office like me and if I wanted to, I could start dating as I’m young and a good catch. I was absolutely stunned, made my excuses to talk to someone else, and ended the night pretty sharpish. From that moment on, I’ve realised that I will never get the respect or opportunities within this company that I have been promised in writing. I’m far from the type of person that rocks up at work at my exact start time and leaves my exact finish time, but it’s getting to that stage. I sit seething as more and more emails are sent about how we are growing as a company and future plans, as well as statements that all staff are encouraged with personal and career growth. And no money in the budget? Well they have enough to look at hiring an apprentice who I can “complain about admin work with” and open a new office in a very expensive location. It’s a kick in the teeth, to put it lightly. Yes, I am biding my time and looking to move on. The downside of my industry is that they use every single online job site to find individuals, so if I put my information online then that would create a lot of problems. I’m hoping I find something soon. At least I can get some excellent advice and information from the Ask a Manager community. Final Update Dec 24, 2016 (19 months later) I relocated for my new role within the new company the beginning of 2016. In the space of two weeks, I realised that things were not going to be the best. The company I’d moved for had made such a disastrous shambles of carrying out a mass recruitment drive that there were a LOT of horrific decisions made in relation to a lot of staffing and such. But based on how toxic the previous role had been, I handled the situation a lot better than someone fresh out of university (a LOT of people in the department). Working for someone who was so utterly backward and derogatory really helped develop a thick skin and how to deal with staff who thought better. Although I’d reignited my job search, I did see a role within the company that appealed to me. I was appointed, and… I’m incredibly happy! It’s such an utter contrast to before. I do have a much better work-life balance, I’m encouraged to travel to other cities to work with my team (we’re based all over the country), my manager and director are fantastic to work with – fair, driven and they’re open to ideas and projects and such. I’m currently driving a hiring campaign as I’ve identified massive gaps in the way the company treat candidates, and also working with new divisions to set up ongoing staff flow and such. We’ve recently had a big campaign day meeting to discuss our growth and the future, and its fabulous stuff. And if anyone is wondering about the old place with the tyrant hating hot food…? Well, they’ve managed to open a major office in another big city. LinkedIn highlights the high staff turnover. And I’ve heard that they still haven’t managed to hire a replacement who worked to my speed and level… THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7 submitted by /u/Direct-Caterpillar77 to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]

https://www.justice.gov/epstein/files/DataSet%209/EFTA00078198.pdf submitted by /u/mmetje567 to r/Epstein [link] [comments]

This documentary really opened my eyes to see how diddy essentially got both BIG and Tupac killed because he was jealous they were better friends with each other than with him. The documentary was 4 episodes long and it still didn't touch the tip of the iceburg... Here is everything sean "diddy" combs has done that the documentary didnt have time to cover: his bodyguard has talked about how diddy sent usher to the hospital as a small boy "bleeding from the b*tt" He has groomed his son to be just like him, his son Justin Combs has been accused in a new lawsuit of luring a woman from Louisiana to Los Angeles, where she was allegedly gang-raped by his father and two other masked men. She claims Justin Combs, 31, used his father’s celebrity status to lure the woman, only identified as “Jane Doe,” to Los Angeles with promises of a TV job in 2017. Instead, she was “held prisoner for a weekend,” given drugs and alcohol, and raped. Not to be confused with the other time he and his son Christian Combs gang raped a woman on a yacht in 2022. The mysterious death of Diddy's former longtime girlfriend and mother of his children, Kim Porter who died of "pneumonia" at 47. Combs was convicted of criminal mischief after he allegedly threatened a photographer with a gun. He blew up Kid cardis car with a molotov cocktail. Combs and his bodyguards were charged with attacking Interscope Records music executive Steve Stoute in his New York office in a dispute over a music video. (Combs is sentenced to an anger management course.) Combs was arrested after a confrontation at UCLA in Los Angeles, where one of his sons played football. Combs became the face of Diageo's Ciroc vodka in 2007 and had been working with the company until January 2024, when they settled a lawsuit Combs filed alleging racism within the brand. One former dancer, Adria English, alleged she was forced to wear a black dress (signaling she was a "sex trafficked sex worker") and have intercourse with guests, including jeweler Jacob Arabov, at various "White Parties". At least one lawsuit alleged that a 16-year-old male was assaulted at a 1998 White Party in the Hamptons, where Combs allegedly told the victim it was a "rite of passage" to becoming a star. 1999, the second annual White Party went was initially denied a permit from the East Hampton board. Combs threatened to sue. The board offered permission with certain constraints regarding guests, traffic, and time (Among those in attendance were Donald Trump) At another party Combs arrived carrying an original copy of the Declaration of Independence as his "date" (Norman Lear, who had purchased it in 2000, lent Combs the Declaration but hired three armed guards to chaperone it throughout the night.) This marked "a new level of fortune and braggadocio" for Combs. Liza Gardner filed a lawsuit alleging that in 1990, she was raped by Combs and R&B singer Aaron Hall. The lawsuit says that days later, Combs assaulted and choked Gardner until she lost consciousness. In an amended complaint filed Oct. 8, Gardner adds that she was 16 years old when she was invited to New Jersey from her home in North Carolina by her friends DeVante Swing and Dalvin DeGrate of the R&B group Jodeci. The lawsuit states that Jodeci's housing, where Gardner was staying, was "subsidized" by their label, Uptown Records, a subsidiary of MCA and UMG. It goes on to allege that Gardner and her 15-year-old friend, Monica Case, met Combs and Hall at an MCA Records event in New York, where they were reportedly supplied with alcohol. Combs and Hall allegedly provided the minors with more drinks and with marijuana later that night. McKinney was 22 years old and working as a model when an unnamed designer introduced her to Combs at a Sean John fashion show in New York City. Combs allegedly expressed interest in getting to know McKinney better and helping her modeling career grow. Later that night, he invited her to a recording studio, where McKinney says Combs and several other men were smoking marijuana and drinking. She took a hit of a joint, which according to the lawsuit, she believes was laced with another substance. The lawsuit states that Combs pressured McKinney to continue drinking and smoking, and as she became more intoxicated, she was led to a bathroom by Combs, who forced her to perform oral sex on him. Afterward, McKinney lost consciousness and awoke in a taxi en route to the designer's apartment. The lawsuit states that following the assault, McKinney became severely depressed. According to the lawsuit, she believes Combs "blackballed" her in the industry, which led to the downfall of her modeling career, and has had long-lasting effects on her mental health. April Lampros filed a lawsuit naming Combs, Bad Boy Entertainment and Arista Records, a subsidiary of Sony Music. Lampros met Combs in 1994 while studying at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. She says Combs often invited her to the Bad Boy studio, promised to mentor and help her advance her career and began "love-bombing" her. They started dating and Lampros would often travel to see Combs, though he asked that their relationship be kept private. In the suit, Lampros accuses Combs of sexually assaulting her on four separate occasions and repeatedly threatening to harm her, both physically and professionally. In one such instance, Combs allegedly forced Lampros and his then-girlfriend Kim Porter to take ecstasy, forced them to engage in sex while he watched and then raped Lampros. Though she tried to distance herself from Combs as the relationship turned abusive, Lampros says Combs continually contacted her, and she feared the repercussions of rebuffing his advances. The lawsuit states that after Lampros' relationship with Combs had ended, she was told by someone she knew that he had seen a video of her and Combs having sex, recorded without her knowledge. a man incarcerated in Michigan filed a lawsuit against Combs alleging that the rapper drugged and sexually assaulted him in Detroit in 1997. During a hearing in September, a default judgment was granted to Cardello-Smith for $100 million after Combs and his lawyers failed to appear in court. Shortly after, the judgment was set aside on grounds that Cardello-Smith's lawsuit, mailed to a Combs residence in Los Angeles, was not properly served Richard and her bandmates were subjected to inhumane working conditions during their time on the show and in the musical group, sometimes being forced to rehearse for up to 48 hours without food or breaks and often being berated by Combs. The complaint states that the abusive behavior continued throughout Richard's professional relationship with Combs, and that he instilled a culture of fear in the women he worked with. After Danity Kane disbanded in 2009, Richard continued to work with Combs in the trio Diddy — Dirty Money, along with singer Kalenna Harper — who allegedly also witnessed much of Combs' abusive behavior and was subject to his numerous threats. The lawsuit alleges Combs would force Richard to take meetings while he was in his underwear, and he would barge into her dressing room unannounced and would grope her breasts and buttocks during stylist fittings. In one instance in 2010, the lawsuit states that Combs berated Richard and Harper in the lobby of SIR Studios and attempted to punch Richard when she asked him to stop calling them "bitches" in front of people. Richard alleges the women were then ushered into a company car and that Combs and Harve Pierre falsely imprisoned them in the vehicle for over two hours. In addition to the allegations of abuse, Richard's lawsuit demands unpaid salaries, royalties and wages for Richard's work as part of Danity Kane and Diddy (Dirty Money). After she filed she missed 128 calls from Combs. a woman named Thalia Graves filed a lawsuit accusing Combs and his bodyguard Joseph Sherman of raping her, recording the assault without her knowledge and distributing the video as pornography. Graves alleges that the assault took place in 2001, when she was 25 years old and dating an unnamed record producer who worked with Combs. She says Combs and Sherman took advantage of her relationship with their colleague to lure her to a recording studio alone, where they gave her a drink she believes was laced with some kind of drug. The lawsuit says Graves lost consciousness and awoke to find herself bound and restrained; Combs and Sherman then proceeded to take turns raping her. Graves says she did not report the alleged crime out of fear of Combs' retaliation, and that her boyfriend at the time discouraged her from doing so because it might hurt his career. In November 2023, Graves alleges she learned the rape had been recorded by Sherman and Combs, who showed it to others with the purpose of humiliating Graves and her then-boyfriend. The lawsuit details how the crime and the knowledge of its recording has had dire, long-lasting consequences on Graves' mental health. Ashley Parham alleges that in 2018, she met a man named Shane Pearce who was associated with Combs. Parham says Pearce called Combs on FaceTime in front of her, but she made remarks about being unimpressed because "she believed Defendant Diddy had something to do with the murder of Tupac Shakur." Combs allegedly became upset by Parham's statements during the call. The complaint says that some time later, Pearce invited Parham over to his home. While she was there, Combs allegedly arrived with Kristina Khorram and several unnamed others. The lawsuit states that Combs was angry at Parham for how she had treated him over the video call. Combs allegedly threatened to physically harm Parham with a knife, while Khorram allegedly said they could "sell" the plaintiff for sex. The lawsuit states that Pearce and Combs then removed Parham's clothing and Combs squirted Parham with what she believes was an oil or lubricant. According to the lawsuit, Khorram was instructed by Diddy to insert a syringe into Parham's vagina. The lawsuit goes on to state that Combs, Pearce and two unnamed defendants violently raped Parham and that Combs forced an unknown pill down the woman's throat. Bryana "Bana" Bongolan filed a lawsuit against Combs in California that alleges the mogul groped her breasts, dangled her over the balcony of a 17th floor apartment and frequently threatened and intimidated her. Bongolan worked with Cassie Ventura at Diamond Supply Co. in 2014, which led the two women to develop a friendship. As they got closer, Bongolan alleges that she became aware of Combs' violent and abusive behavior towards Ventura, eventually leading to Ventura showing Bongolan bruises and a black eye she received from Combs. Throughout the time they worked together, Bongolan alleges that Combs intimidated and threatened her, including an instance in which he forcibly drugged her and another in which he said "You have no idea what I could do to you. I could kill you." The lawsuit states that in September of 2016, Bongolan, her then-girlfriend and Ventura were at Ventura's apartment when Combs began violently knocking on the door. After making his way in, Bongolan alleges he found her on the balcony and began groping her breasts. When she resisted, she alleges that he picked her up and held her over the ledge of the 17th floor balcony, and then slammed her into patio furniture. an unnamed plaintiff filed a civil lawsuit against Combs alleging that he and an unnamed male celebrity assaulted her at an MTV Video Music Awards after-party in 2000, when she was only 13 years old. On December 8, the lawsuit was amended and refiled to name Jay-Z, whose real name is Shawn Carter, as the second assailant. The complaint states that the plaintiff accepted a drink that made her woozy, leading her to retire to one of the bedrooms. She alleges that Carter, Combs and an unnamed female celebrity entered the room and that the two men raped her while the female celebrity stood by and watched. Combs and Jay z settled out of court. Combs' former bodyguard is named as a co-defendant in Graves' lawsuit, along with Daddy's House Recordings, Bad Boy Entertainment and more. Graves claims that Sherman actively raped her alongside Combs in 2001. The lawsuit states that when she attempted to escape the assault, Combs slammed her head into a pool table, causing her to lose consciousness. After waking up, she says Sherman continued to assault her and slapped her until she passed out a third time. Caresha Brownlee, aka Yung Miami, half of the rap duo City Girls, dated Combs in recent years. In August, she denied knowing anything about the accusations that have surfaced against her ex. "I can't speak on these allegations because I wasn't around at the time," she said on her Revolt TV show, Caresha Please. "I don't know that person, and that wasn't my experience." In September, however, Brownlee was named in a lawsuit filed against Combs by an unnamed woman. The lawsuit alleges that the plaintiff was forced to travel and "perform" for Combs many times from 2021 to 2024. Much of this travel was reportedly paid for by Combs' staffer Kristina Khorram. The suit states that in 2022, the plaintiff was forced to take drugs and have sex with Combs. When she learned she was pregnant and told Combs, the lawsuit states that Brownlee (who is not a co-defendant on the complaint) harassed and called the plaintiff repeatedly, pressuring her to get an abortion. The stress allegedly led the woman to suffer a miscarriage. Please add anything else I've missed. submitted by /u/MyUnreliableSauces to r/television [link] [comments]

I eagerly awaited as I watched what looked to be the final preparations being made, three other Nocturne’s were being loaded up, with large eight wheeled vehicles were also packed with men and equipment for the forward base by the edge of the woods. I heard Otto asking about “Roll 1 and 2” locations and then marking a small red cross on a map after writing down two groups of ten numbers. I was pretty sure at this point that he was, along with many of these people, former military. I finally met the two other members of my team as the call came over the radios to mount up for SP. I felt out of my element, everyone seemed to have an important role as they spoke in sharp acronyms and in jargon I didn’t understand. For the first time, I had started to doubt myself, it wouldn’t be the last. There was Otto who was driving, then there was a pretty woman who was in her mid-thirties with her brown hair in a tight bun and a motherly look about her, kicking her feet and reading a book when I walked up, stowing my small personal pack behind the passenger seat. There was a man maybe late 20s who was talking to Otto about the “radio wave propagation under the canopy” while shaking his head. The woman raised her head and gave me a warm smile, “Dr. Kira Wellsly, paleobotanist.” I smiled and shook her hand, “Jace Carro, autonomous informant.” I said awkwardly. She moved over as I crunched in the back and closed the door. Otto took off without looking, still talking to the man about radio waves. We bumped along the road towards the path when I saw them, my parents staring into the convoy, looking for me. I didn’t have the heart to see them and put my arm up blocking my face. Kira spoke to me again, “So I’ve been dying to talk in depth to someone local, what’s it like under there?” She asked and stared at me like a child asking her parents about if Santa Claus is coming this year, there was an exuberant youthfulness about her that was only matched by her intelligence. Although I had only been a hundred or so feet into the woods, I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t belong with the group of experts. I gave her some stories about feeling claustrophobic and the utter darkness, which was actually true. She seemed to buy it and started quizzing me about plant life. “Would you say there’s any evidence of leafy undergrowth? I posit no, but this place is beyond understanding. You see I have this theory that there’s extreme ontological niche partitioning between the fungal growth that flourishes in the dark and damp places like where going. Think of it as an above ground cave system.” She prattled on excitedly. I had no clue what the hell she was on about but nodded along as she told me about her theories. At maybe fifteen minutes into the drive, somewhere between the Rockies, Otto glanced back at me. “Oh yeah Mickey, this kid is our guide.” The man named Mickey spun around gave me a curt nod. He had a long, brown beard and shaggy hair tied in a ponytail tucked into a cap. He spoke to me with an Irish accent, “Names Ciann, (keen) Douglas, this prick here calls me Mickey to bust my balls.” He laughed as Otto punched his arm. They were both prior service as it turns out, Ciann was in the British military for three years as a radio operator before going to college for radio communications. Otto was in the Army as a Scout he said, for eight years. Then it got serious as Otto turned down his radio slightly. “Alright so we’ll get our official brief at F.O.B. Dusk but let me key you all in on some things. Firstly, I don’t need to tell you all how dangerous is, there’s been more successful missions to space and the ocean floor now than in there. Secondly our smart lads with PHD’s have briefed us Team Leaders on some psychological factors that will be prominent under the canopy; lack of light for an extended period, losing track of time and the day/night cycle, isolation, etc. We need to stay vigilant out there for one another alright? We need to talk and help each other out, if one of us goes down, it jeopardizes the entire Project. It’s my job to ensure that Doc Kira can get her samples and data, and then we all get out together, I will accept nothing other than that outcome. Thirdly, we cannot be sure of the exact climate under there, though it’s estimated to be far colder than current air temperatures as solar heat almost certainly can’t punch through the canopy, think of a reverse glasshouse. We need to stay bundled up, hydrated, and lucid. The night vision screen will fatigue our retinas far faster than natural light, so we need to keep a steady rotation of driver/lookout pairs in calculated intervals. Alright guys? The rest of it will be covered in the brief tonight.” It was quiet as we all nodded and felt the mission suddenly take a darker turn, the thrill of being on this adventure was now turning to a sinking feeling. I hadn’t actually considered half of these problems but the fact that someone did made me feel certain that the Project had to make it, surely it would with this much expertise going. The rest of the trip was spent with petty conversations about this or that, Kira was interested in the mountains and for some reason, although I was the youngest in the team, it felt like she was the most innocent among us. The sun was now fully in the sky and starting to arc to its zenith as we pulled up to a semi set up F.O.B. Dusk. There was a line of the massive eight wheeled trucks lined up with people downloading boxes and equipment. There were generators already running, humming loudly and powering lights in the single tent that was set up in the field so far. I stretched my legs and wondered around as Otto went to check the fuel cans. Mickey didn’t move out of his seat and was running tests on something as Kira stepped out and snapped pictures of the tree line with a disposable camera. “They’re…impossible.” She said as she snapped another picture. “It’s clearly from the genus Sequoia but with larger leafy growth than that of a say, sempervirens. This is possibly the family Cupressaceae if it were left alone for millions of years. They must be a thousand feet tall easy, pictures just don’t do this justice.” I had seen this look on many people over the years, hell even after all this time it almost made one feel vertiginous staring at trees that stretched far beyond what any living thing should. I could see many of the group half working-half staring at the impossible length and height of an individual tree, much less the forest itself. Every person I met who had seen the ocean had compared it to a thousand-foot-tall wave frozen at its peak, it like that, at any moment, the wave would unfreeze and come crashing down on those below. It had been years since the one tree was felled by…something, but I hadn’t forgotten it. Now, being so close again I thought of the devastation it would wreck with us being this close. Kira finally resigned and just sat down, staring at them, almost lost in the miasma of glimmering petrified bark and swaying green far above our heads. It wasn’t hard to just stare at all-encompassing natural fort ahead. The Old-World Trees had leviathan sized trunks that held several hundred massive branches starting around three hundred feet up. For the next seven hundred feet it was an ever-swaying wall of shifting green that took up your entire view, mesmerizingly so. The leaves swirled in an anguilliform manner, making it look as if a thousand giant snakes were swimming under a green ocean. After staring for a bit, I heard some voices yelling and people were gathering around the lead vehicle, the weathered man I had seen at the table previously standing on top, about to give us a speech of some sort. Doc Kira and I looked at each other wordlessly, shared a small smile and headed over to join the throng. Once it seemed most everyone was around, he spoke in a rough voice, “Right, we all know what were here to do. Every member of this Project was picked based off outstanding qualifications and experience. I have full faith and confidence that all of you will do your part and make sure this is the greatest success that has ever been achieved here. (Not that the bar for that was very high.) Most of you have spent the better part of two years preparing for this, with a handful joining a bit later.” I knew he meant me, and I looked around and saw another person from Point Jackson, Greg Hammond, I wondered if it was money or adventure that drove him here. He continued, “Team Leaders you all have your assignments along with maps and anything else you might need. Just for redundancy I’ll go over the Teams again before I get into the safety brief. Team Ahuitzotl is myself along with my two-man security team and one of our autonomous informants. We will be the lead element and heaviest armed team out there, all other teams will only defer to their personal small arms if we are unable to respond to a threat, alright? Good. Team Beithir, you have Steven Grant as Team Leader, with our primary radio operator and the two paleontologists. Team Champ, you have the secondary radio operator and our medic, Doc Whitehall, as well as an additional security element. Bringing up the read will be Team Drekavac with Otto taking lead with Mick running contingency radios and primary electronic systems, our paleobotanists, and our secondary A.I.” As he said that last sentence, I felt dozens of eyes turn and look at me, I wonder what they thought when they saw me. “Let’s go over the safety brief and convoy brief so tomorrow morning we can get up and at it.” He spoke then for another hour about everything about this mission, I did learn a lot though. The “Roll 1” was the first primary care station or a medic station set up here, at Forward Operation Base Dusk, to which, if necessary, the patient would be flown via little bird to the “Roll” 2 back at Point Jackson. That was assuming that we could get a casualty out of the woods. That was assuming that any of us would be returning. Alan Arthur, the rugged man’s name I learned, talked in length about spacing between the vehicles, fuel conservation, especially with turning the heaters on full blast in the colder environment, what to do if we saw something, and on and on he went. I felt like I was ready for any scenario with a hint of annoyance, then realized that was entirely the point of what he just said. Otto confirmed and double checked primary, secondary, tertiary, and emergency systems on the radios, medical considerations, and everything in between. It made my head spin that people could have so much information crammed in their heads. I was pulled aside now and then to be quizzed about things such as any perceived wildlife, undergrowth, routes, tree falls, to which I relayed the story from a few years ago to the horror of those listening, and was asked other things that I could not possibly know. Most of what I did know came from local superstition and the stories of people who had only gone far enough to experience a taste of it but not be lost forever. The words: total sensory deprivation, kept coming to mind as I thought back to an old neighbor of mine who had gone in to try and find some lost tourists once. He never found them and only managed to escape as he tied 300 ft of rope around the grill of his truck and around his waist. Apparently even at a few hundred feet in, it’s an entirely different world than ours. I found I barely slept on one of the green cots set up in row after row in the large tent near the foot of the forest, when I noticed the light purple hue in the sky start to dimly illuminate the other huddled forms around me. I knew this meant that the first call was imminent and I thought then what I had been thinking all night, “Was I making the right call? Should I leave?” I pondered this again and again but I knew the answer. All I was doing was buying time for it to be too late for me to turn back, I was at war within myself and I wasn’t sure if I was winning or losing. I checked my old watch in the dim light and saw that it was 04:18, in twelve minutes the entire camp would be bustling with activity so I may as well get a head start. I sat up and surveyed my new equipment again; a cold weather jacket and pants with socks and gloves to match, some sort of night optic and a rig to fit over my head, a rudimentary first aid kit with things someone with no medical experience can use, various pills, a personal recording device as well as a notebook, some toiletries (they specifically told us to bag everything as to not disrupt the delicate ecology of the undergrowth), and other small sundries not worth listing. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this but in my heart, I knew that this would be my only chance to do this. As I grabbed my gear and folded my thick blanket back into its proper pack, I headed for the Nocturne IV and thought of the first time I set foot in the woods. Fourteen-year-olds from Point Jackson would always gather together to make the pilgrimage out to the woods, our families didn’t stop us for two reasons; They themselves had done it years prior, and we were safe because no force on Heaven or Earth would compel us to travel any deeper than necessary. I had just seen Jennifer Hathaway walk out from the pitch-black darkness and into the moonlight again when the cry of fifteen other kids celebrated her return, when I knew what was coming. I felt a pair of hands clasp on my shoulders as Brian Lawrence guided me to the front of the group. As he had been the first to go, so he was designated the “Dead President” and wore two black lines of ash going from under his eyes to his chin, a sign of his courage and authority. He turned me to face the rest of my peers and I was blinded by the light of the bonfire behind them, their outlines eerily bereft of detail as their shadows danced twistedly on the ground between us. “Welcome back Jennifer Hathaway, you have emerged from the woods that claimed the blood of your ancestor. Your name is eternally joined with all generations of the past, and those who are yet to follow in our footsteps.” There was more raucous cheering and clapping as the outline of Jen cheered along with them, though I could feel the tension pouring off her in waves still, what had caused that I would soon find out. Brian continued, “Before us is Jace Carro, descendant of Nathanial Carro who ventured with Jackson while his wife and two sons stayed home to wait for his return. His name is carved into the Scar along with the rest of the brave men who ventured into the darkness and never returned. Jace will place his name alongside his kin and make way for the next generation.” He handed me three things, a dim oil lantern, a two-handed planer that I would use to carve out any rough bark regrowing on the Scar for my future child, and a large knife from the original settlers. It was silent as I turned and departed under the limbs of the Old-World and welcomed into its embrace. I looked back to see the dot that was my friends by the fire, I swallowed hard and lifted the lantern only to barely see in front of me. I stumbled more than once over roots of the trees and quietly cursed under my breath. The silence was deafening, it was all consuming and I heard all of the nothingness as my heart raced and every exhale sounded like a scream. I could feel my vision narrowing out of panic, or was it just that dark? It didn’t matter; I just had to find the Scar. The Scar was our forefathers attempt at leveling one of these things, mostly it was said to be from piles of dynamite but that barely blew some of the bark off. They tested axes, bombs, bullets, and anything else they could think of to put a dent in this tree with no success. Since there was now a rather large section of the tree barren of bark, the members of Jackson’s Expedition had each carved their name in the tree, ever since then when someone turned fourteen in Point Jackson, they had to go to this tree and find their family name, carve their name next to it and make way for the next generation's. I thought it was a cool tradition until now, now I’d rather be by the fire with my friends than anywhere in here. I knew I was getting close, I think, as I followed a root that lifted out of the ground and gradually went from ankle height to being well above my head. I raised the lantern closely and saw some chips in the bark, evidence of a bomb or bullet. I sighed a breath of relief and quickly made my way to the trunk, my left hand that was holding the tools was raised to the root as a guide and the thin sound of metal running against the iron like bark made a rasping sound. After maybe another twenty feet I saw it, the Scar. I breathed in and stared at what were thousands of names carved into the trunk, I held the lantern close and tried to find my family name as I could feel my hands pooling with sweat from my arms. It was so weird, I had always heard that the Forest was cold but then again, the adrenaline kept my heart racing. I finally saw it, a handful of names away from Jackson and I took a shuddering breath to prepare myself for the task ahead. What was hard wasn’t clearing away the young bark that was attempting to reclaim its spot on the trunk, what was hard was carving my name into the cast-iron like flesh of the tree itself. I was now fully drenched in sweat as I could feel heat pouring from me, I worked feverishly and tried not to scratch my father’s name carefully placed below mine. I hated this place, this hollow empty place, yet I had the feeling of being watched. I knew it was just my nerves, in all the years that people have lived around the Old-World Forest, no one had ever seen an animal, or at least no one told anyone if they did. As the kindling fell away, I looked up and around to make sure there wasn’t some monster crouching over me, nothing. I finished the task, slick with sweat and stood back to admire my work, satisfied and ready to leave I hurried quickly back to safety. As I turned around for the last time I saw, peeking through the impossibly tall canopy, the full white moon, that relaxed me enough to get me back out into the open with my friends. As I would later learn, it wasn’t a full moon that night. submitted by /u/theShiloh_meyeR to r/CreepCast_Submissions [link] [comments]

Context: "Gaylors" are a subsection of Swifties who believe Taylor Swift is a closeted queer woman (most believe she is a lesbian, while others believe she is bi) and that her public relationships with men are PR, or that she is heavily controlled by her label. Taylor and Travis Kelce began dating in mid-2023, and announced their engagement this morning on Instagram. While there are some who wish her well despite not believing or having doubts the relationship is real, most are distraught and believe the announcement to be a part of her new album cycle. Update: The r/GaylorSwift subreddit has been moved to private as of yesterday afternoon Source: https://www.reddit.com/r/GaylorSwift/comments/1n0sd1v/taylor_and_travis_announce_engagement_826_with/ Highlights: "31 months between July 8, 2023 (when Travis brought the friendship bracelet to the eras tour) and the date of the Super Bowl — February 8, 2026. Also, engagement was announced on 8/26. Also, Karma coffee cup is 2 and 8. But likely that one has already been discovered. Is 429 special? It’s been 429 days since Travis was on stage at the era tour. Oh…”Do you really wanna know where I was APRIL 29?” I’m of the belief that Travis on stage at the eras tour when she was dressed up like a showgirl for ICDIWABH is a clue that he is part of the promo for TLOAS album. It makes sense. The podcast, the football appearances. If it is right, won’t she ghost him at the end of the era but keep the castle? ----------- idk hayley williams got engaged and married and now writes songs about how she was the most miserable she has ever been. taylor staying single would've been too powerful i guess. she flew too close to the sun with midnights i guess and they had to tame her by linking her up with a man. ----------- Sorry, this screams of performance art lore to me. The obvious stage lighting, the archway surrounded by flowers (Lover promo and Bejewelled, anyone?), so high school as the song (a parody alone), the ring itself…. ----------- Just pointing out that the very classic song "(I never promised you a) Rose Garden", famously recorded by Lynn Anderson is part of the Zodiac soundtrack, the movie starring Jake Gyllenhaal and based off of the Zodiac Killer

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Key features to consider include: * The material used (stainless steel, titanium, etc.) * The size and spacing of the teeth * The comfort and grip of the handle * The comb's overall size and weight * The overall aesthetics of the comb [Explore Top Rated metal combs on Amazon.] Core Benefits Metal combs offer several benefits over plastic combs, making them a worthy investment for grooming enthusiasts. These include durability, hygiene, and their effectiveness in styling. Enhanced Durability and Longevity: Metal combs are significantly more durable than their plastic counterparts with proper maintenance. High-quality metal combs are designed to withstand daily use and resist wear and tear, without bending or breaking. This longevity translates to fewer replacements over time,making it a cost-effective choice in the long run. the lack of brittleness inherent in plastic reduces the risk of broken teeth too. Improved Hygiene and Cleanliness: Metal surfaces are inherently less porous than plastic, making them easier to clean and sanitize.Moreover, metal does not trap oils, dirt, and product residue as readily as plastic, reducing the growth of bacteria and other microorganisms. This enhanced hygiene contributes to a healthier scalp and hair, minimizing the risk of infections or irritation. Cleaning metal combs is simple, typically requiring only soap and water or an alcohol-based sanitizer. Superior Styling and Control: Metal combs provide superior styling and control, due to their precise tooth spacing and smooth surfaces. Metal's anti-static properties help reduce frizz and flyaways, resulting in a neater, more polished hairstyle. The extra weight and sturdiness of metal combs allow for greater precision when parting hair, creating sharp lines, and sculpting intricate styles. They are particularly effective for distributing hair products evenly, such as pomades, waxes, and gels. Environmentally Friendlier Option: Choosing a metal comb is an environmentally conscious decision. Unlike plastic combs, which contribute to plastic waste and pollution, metal combs are recyclable, reducing your environmental footprint.The longevity of metal combs also minimizes waste, as they require fewer replacements than plastic combs. Furthermore, metal combs do not leach harmful chemicals into the surroundings during their lifecycle, making them a sustainable grooming choice. [Explore Top rated metal combs on Amazon.] FAQs Section Addressing common questions about metal combs helps clarify any lingering doubts and empowers informed purchasing decisions. Understanding the nuances of their usage and care ensures longevity and optimal performance. Are Metal Combs Suitable For All Hair Types? Yes, metal combs are generally suitable for all hair types, but the tooth spacing should be considered. Wide-tooth combs are ideal for thick, curly, or coarse hair, minimizing breakage and reducing snagging. Fine-tooth combs are better suited for thin, straight, or fine hair, providing precise styling and smooth finishing. Individuals with sensitive scalps should opt for combs with rounded tooth tips to prevent irritation. How Do I clean and Maintain a Metal Comb? Cleaning and maintaining a metal comb is straightforward. Regular cleaning with soap and water removes oils, dirt, and product residue. To prevent corrosion, ensure the comb is thoroughly dried after washing. For deeper cleaning, an alcohol-based sanitizer can be used to disinfect the comb. Lightly oiling the comb occasionally can help maintain its shine and prevent rust. Will Metal Combs Cause Static or Frizz Compared to Plastic? Contrary to common belief, metal combs are less likely to cause static or frizz compared to plastic combs. metal's anti-static properties help to neutralize electrical charges in the hair, reducing frizz and flyaways. Plastic, on the other hand, is more prone to generating static, resulting in unruly hair. Using a metal comb after applying a leave-in conditioner or hair oil can further minimize static and enhance smoothness. [Explore Top Rated metal combs on Amazon.] Competitor Comparison Comparing metal combs from different brands is essential for understanding their strengths and weaknesses. A detailed comparison reveals which combs stand out in specific areas like material quality, tooth design, and overall ergonomics. Product Comparison Overview Kent metal Comb (81T) Material: High-quality stainless steel Tooth Design: Fine-toothed, polished tips handle: Integrated handle for easy grip Chicago Comb Model 1 material: Aircraft-grade aluminum Tooth design: Medium-toothed, rounded tips Handle: Minimalist, ergonomic design Baxter of California Metal Comb Material: Durable steel alloy Tooth Design: Wide-toothed, gentle spacing Handle: Classic shape, easy to hold Key Differences Summary The kent Metal Comb (81T) excels in providing precise styling for finer hair, while the Chicago Comb Model 1 offers a lightweight and modern design. The Baxter of California Metal Comb is best suited for detangling thicker hair,with its wide tooth spacing and sturdy build.For users prioritizing precision styling and a sleek aesthetic, the Kent comb is the better choice. However, those seeking a lightweight, stylish comb with rounded tips might prefer the chicago Comb. Individuals with thicker hair will appreciate the Baxter of California comb for its detangling capabilities and robust construction. [Explore Top Rated metal combs on Amazon.] Ideal User Profile Understanding who benefits most from metal combs helps narrow down which models best suit specific grooming needs. Considering the types of users most likely to appreciate the characteristics of metal combs provides context. Barbers and Professional Stylists: Metal combs are invaluable tools for barbers and professional stylists requiring precision and durability. The comb's anti-static properties and precise tooth spacing facilitate effortless styling, parting, and product distribution. their durability ensures they can withstand the rigors of daily use in a salon or barbershop setting, providing reliable performance. The material's easy cleaning contributes to strict hygiene standards. Beard Grooming Enthusiasts: Metal combs are essential for men seeking to maintain a well-groomed beard. the tooth spacing helps to detangle and shape the beard, promoting healthy growth. Applying beard oils and balms becomes more effective with a metal comb, ensuring even distribution throughout the hair. The durability of metal combs is especially beneficial for those with coarse or thick beards, where plastic combs may easily break or bend. [explore Top rated metal combs on Amazon.] Buying Recommendations & Conclusion Ultimately, selecting the best metal comb requires careful consideration of individual grooming needs, hair type, and style preferences. The right comb will offer longevity, hygiene, and exceptional styling capabilities. When considering a metal comb, assess your hair type and intended use.Fine-tooth combs are ideal for sleek hairstyles, while wide-tooth combs are better for detangling or styling thick hair. Consider the design and material of the handle to ensure a comfortable and secure grip. Those seeking a portable comb for travel should look for compact models with protective cases. metal combs represent a worthwhile investment for those seeking a durable,hygienic,and effective grooming tool. Their ability to style, detangle, and distribute hair products evenly makes them a superior alternative to plastic combs.While the initial cost may be higher,the longevity and performance of metal combs provide long-term value and a refined grooming experience. [Shop Budget-Friendly metal combs on Amazon.] submitted by /u/ClaraOkonmaREYI to r/ArtisticJourneyTalesA [link] [comments]

I’ve been thinking about starting minoxidil to try to grow a beard. Is it worth the potential side effects, or should I just be content with the facial hair I have? I posted in other subreddits (like r/malegrooming), but I’m pretty sure those are mostly white communities and I didn’t get much feedback, lol. This is the only community I’ve found with a good number of members focused on Black hair. Do you think I’m good without it? submitted by /u/Unique_Objective_569 to r/BlackHair [link] [comments]

We were just sitting in the car, not even arguing, just existing. And I looked over at her and in my head, I said, “Why can’t she just fucking stop sometimes?” Stop being difficult. Stop snapping at me and the kids over every little thing. Stop being so damn cold all the time. Stop acting like everything we do is a burden to her. Just… stop. I hate the position her attitude has put me in. I don’t want to be this guy. I don’t want to feel like I have to find someone else to connect with. I don’t want to spend my nights venting on Reddit like some lonely, pathetic sap, getting dragged by people who think they know everything about love and loyalty and marriage from their high horse. I don't want to be this emotionally starved, bitter version of myself. I’m tired of being made to feel like a pervert for having the audacity to be attracted to my own wife. For wanting to be close to her. For trying to initiate something beyond just being roommates and co-parents. It’s humiliating. I’m not some creep—I just want connection, intimacy, affection. The basic things people in love are supposed to give each other. But her neglect has turned me into someone I don’t even recognize. I hate that. I hate that she thinks nothing is wrong, even when I’m telling her something’s wrong. I hate that I’ve spelled it out, tried to have the conversations, tried to fix things—and somehow I’m still the problem in her eyes. I’m always the problem. I hate that she keeps wanting to take pictures as a family—big smiles, matching outfits, Christmas cards—like everything’s perfect. Like we’re not crumbling on the inside. I hate having to fake it for a photo just so she can post it online and feel validated, while behind the scenes, she’s making us all miserable. She’s like an overgrown child—emotionally immature, selfish, and exhausting. Everything revolves around her moods, her needs, her wants. Even dinner. She’s so picky we eat the same four things every week—not because we can’t do better, but because she refuses to try. I’m tired of walking on eggshells. I’m tired of carrying the emotional weight of this house. I’m tired of smiling for the kids while I’m dying inside. And honestly? I hate being judged by strangers as if I’m the worst person in the world because I’m looking for someone to connect with. Like I’m some kind of monster for wanting to feel desired or loved. They don’t know what it’s like to be trapped in this, to be ignored, to be made to feel invisible in my own marriage. But because I’m trying to make myself feel alive again, they’re quick to throw stones. I don’t need the judgment. I need understanding. I don’t know what I’m asking for. Maybe nothing. Maybe just to be heard. To be seen. To feel like I’m not crazy for feeling all this. Because right now, it feels like I’m invisible in my own life. Edit: Forgot to include this—it's not as simple as just leaving, as everyone will obviously chime in and recommend. Financially, it would ruin me. It would ruin my kids' futures. Starting over would put me years behind in any chance at building a life where I'm genuinely happier. My kids would end up with her most of the time, and while I’m sure that sounds like a relief to some, I’m the one who’s here to protect them, to guide them. Leaving would leave them in a situation I can’t stand by and watch. It’s not just as easy as people make it sound. EDIT/UPDATE: Well, of course the one post I make from a nonsense throwaway account is the one that blows up. Should’ve known most of the comments would shred me. That said, I wanted to add a few things since a lot of the responses follow the same general theme. When it comes to household and parenting responsibilities, I’d say it’s an 85/15 split—with me doing the bulk. She’ll come home from work, sit on the couch or scroll the computer while I make dinner. After we eat, I’ll do the dishes while she kind of hangs around. She gets her nails done whenever she wants, goes out when she feels like it—there’s no controlling or gatekeeping happening here. I give her space. From the comments, yeah, I can admit there’s probably something deeper going on. She grew up in a house where therapy and emotional growth were frowned upon, almost villainized. Her parents have a similar marriage dynamic to ours, maybe worse—emotionally distant, critical. I do my best to talk to our kids and show them that this level of anger or resentment isn't okay, and if my own parents were still alive, they'd definitely see how off this is. Since posting, oddly enough, she’s been a little nicer. I doubt she saw this—she has zero clue what Reddit even is—but maybe just putting it out there shifted something in the universe. I’ll take the kindness, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel off. It’s giving “Men in Black alien in a human body” energy—awkward and stiff. Anyway, thank you to the people who responded with empathy instead of just heat. Like Ted Lasso quoting Walt Whitman once said: Be curious, not judgmental. submitted by /u/TheSicilianSword to r/TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]

I’ve been wondering about this: humans are unique in that our scalp hair and (for men) beard hair seem to grow continuously unless cut. Other primates, including our closest relatives, don’t have this feature. Their hair grows to a certain length and stops. What’s the evolutionary purpose behind this? Is there a specific reason why humans evolved to have hair that keeps growing? And why didn’t this happen with other primates? It seems like a pretty inconvenient trait in the wild! Would love to hear some insights or theories about this. submitted by /u/Edi9991 to r/NoStupidQuestions [link] [comments]

https://preview.redd.it/6va6gy5tf93e1.png?width=1867&format=png&auto=webp&s=ab1e8688e886e7b61933e32bddb9973b930eb0a3 submitted by /u/Odd-Investment4111 to r/Minoxbeards [link] [comments]

First Chapter Five Chapter Seven “The LIGO detectors have encountered a lot of noise recently that they haven’t figured out how to get rid of.” Chao Me Chu had long ago passed beyond her fear of Dealing With Other People and now had broken into that most glorious realm known as Getting To Explain Things To Other People. She proceeded to scribble more and more and more equations and diagrams on the white board in front of her. “…so, by triangulating that noise I think it looks like our mystery thingy made it to here at the Earth-moon L5 point.” “A most likely place to hide,” said Tsuna Hironaka. “As I understand, we don’t have much in the way of observation satellites in that place.” General de Vries rose from his chair and walked forward to examine the white board. “Yep. It would be a good place to hide out.” He tilted his head. “But, now that they’re so close, is there a reason we can’t see them?” Chao’s fear of the general had faded long ago. Now she was just trying to explain things to the man, although in his defense he didn’t need all that much explaining. “They must be screening visible light somehow, but there’s still infrared. That’s the way to go. We need to have some discreet imaging of the L5 point, and see if there’s something there that is maybe a bit warmer than the cosmic background. Or maybe colder, depending on how their stealth tech works.” The general gave a hum of contemplation. “Radar is also an option.” He held out his hand. Chao knew what he wanted and slapped the dry-erase marker into his outstretched palm. De Vries turned to a small, unclaimed portion of the whiteboard. “Okay, let’s talk through our options for the latter. With one call I can put the entire North American continent on high alert, which will light our radars up like a gods-be-damned Christmas tree and might let our sneaky newcomers know that they’ve been made.” He wrote out A) PING! HI THERE! “Other options?” he asked with deceptive calm. “Passive scanning,” said Blake. “They might actually try to come down here and get close-up…uh, whaddycall, reconnaissance. They might think that their EM shielding is good, but if we know what we’re looking for..?” He trailed off in a clear message of I’m just spitballing here, please don’t throw things at me. But De Vries just nodded. “Right.” He then wrote out B) LET ‘EM IN, THEN NAB ‘EM. “Anything else?” “We could do a combination of the two,” said Dr. Hironaka. “Perhaps make it appear as a training exercise? That would seem less suspicious than just, as you said, lighting us up like a damned Christmas tree for no good reason.” She smiled at Chao’s shocked expression. It was the first time that Chao had ever heard the woman swear. General De Vries nodded. “Yep. That’s another way.” He wrote out C) OH DEAR, IT APPEARS I AM IN THE MIDST OF AN EXERCISE. HOW UNFORTUNATE. “To be honest, I like that one the most.” “Me too,” said Chao, even though she knew it looked like she was being a kiss-ass. “We’ll need to broadcast some discreet notifications of the, er, ‘exercise’ beforehand, just in case they’re listening in.” Even as she said it, it still dumbfounded her that they were talking about actual aliens right next to her home planet. “We’ll take care of the necessaries,” replied De Vries. “In the meantime, y’all are off the clock for at least the next twelve hours. I want you all well fed, well rested, and full of beans…because after that, the next forty-eight hours or more are going to be very, very full of duties for y’all.” __________ The scarab-shaped landing boat slipped itself out of its cradle on the Finger of Rithro, maneuvered around the ship’s front armor, and began its long freefall towards the blue-white globe below. Captain Sadaf leaned over the pilot’s cradle as she peered at the forward holographic viewscreen. “Status?” Her question came out a little more harsh than she’d intended. Kifa hunched herself in a little bit, the only sign of her stress. “It appears that the training exercise they mentioned is in effect. The radars around that continent are more active than usual, but nothing our stealth screening can’t handle.” Sadaf patted one of Kifa’s right shoulders in an unspoken gesture of support. “Just keep it up. We need to get there.” She turned to the rear of the landing craft, a lozenge-shaped interior about fifteen meters long. The rest of the Rithro’s crew stared back at her with both fear and intense interest. “Everybody needs to recheck and recertify their hardsuits,” she said without preamble. “The sapients on this planet are the main concern, but we also need to make sure there’s no spores, molds, bacteria, or viruses which could hurt us. Once we hit ground-side, we suit up and we stay suited up until we can test samples from this planet…” She pointed at the ever-growing planet in the forward viewscreen, “This is an entirely new biosphere. We cannot take any chances. Understood?” She was met with a hearty collective cry of “YES, MA’AM!” “Good.” Her horns rose in happiness, then sank back against her scalp as she realized what she had to tell them next. “Another thing. Whomever we send out to do this, er, ‘involuntary Interview’ will need to be completely disarmed. We absolutely cannot risk any sort of accident. If that means we get killed…well, that’s what we signed up for.” To her horror (mixed with a bit of admiration) Dhuz stepped forward. “I volunteer. I’m the ship’s medic and biologist, it makes sense that I should gather samples as well as do our…interview.” “But…” Sadaf paused and looked to the side. “You’re not trained for close-quarters combat.” “However, I am,” said Takh with finality. The huge udyr lumbered forward, his muscles standing out in the overhead lighting as he placed a protective upper hand on Dhuz’s narrow shoulder. “Even with no weapons, I can keep her safe. In a non-threatening manner, of course.” Sadaf looked back and met her lover’s eyes. Her species only had sapient females…auhn males were fun, but sadly not at all capable in terms of conversation. Thus, she and Dhuz had fallen into the normal relationship amongst her species. Now she realized just how much she’d be hollowed out if something happened to the ship’s doctor. Dhuz, to her credit, did not flinch under her Captain’s worried regard. “It’s okay, my love. Everything will work out fine.” __________ “I think we’ve found ‘em,” said Blake with a smug grin. Chao was glad to see the guy come out of his shell; he was a lot smarter than he realized, and it was time that he knew that. “Explain,” said General De Vries, who was seated at the head of the conference room table with steepled hands; his voice was not unkind but it got across an unspoken message of you had better not be wasting my time. “Chao gave me the idea.” The young man gestured at her, then tapped a few keys on his laptop. The screen behind him showed an animated map of the North American continent, overlaid with a patchwork of colored blobs which represented search radars. “We’re on higher alert thanks to our advertised ‘exercise’. But we haven’t seen anything yet. So, I figured we need to look for what’s not there, rather than what is. If they have some kind of EM shielding or stealth tech to prevent detection via radar, then perhaps it acts too efficiently.” A small, darker dot appeared on the map, one that started down near Mexico and then ‘flew’ its way towards the middle of the US. The General grinned, but it was not in humor; it was more the expression of a lion sighting a wounded wildebeest. “I see. You looked for an area of extremely low noise against the background, rather than high?” Blake nodded. “Very nice work, son.” De Vries leaned forward and set his forearms upon the table. “Did you find out their destination? “Assuming they stay on their current course, it’s…um, here.” The map expanded, showing a rectangular state in the midst of the continent, then expanded further into the wilderness of the state’s center. “It’s in the middle of nowhere in Colorado. The closest town is a little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it place called Manitoba Springs.” Dr. Newman tilted his head. “What? Why there?” “It might be that they wanted a nice, out-of-the-way place to do some scanning of our broadcasts,” said Ryan. “They’re an alien species,” added Dr. Hironaka. “It is unwise to assume human-style intentions for their actions.” “Well. I for one surely do intend to ask them their intentions,” said General De Vries as he stood with an implacable air. Then he faltered and leaned forward, putting his fists on the table before turning to Chao. “Ms. Chao, you are a civilian. I have neither the authority nor the right to ask you to put yourself into harm’s way. But I am asking. I’m going to scramble an interception team to find this potential craft, and I want you embedded with them.” Chao’s breath seized in her throat. The chance to be among one of the first to interact with aliens? It was a literal chance of a lifetime. But then again, that interaction might involve an exchange of gunfire. Or they might have magic technology that just turned her and those around her into ash. She felt as if she should at least give a token protest. “Sir, I am not trained in anything remotely resembling first contact protocols.” “Show me someone who is,” replied the general with a wry smile. “You’re good with math, that’s for sure. We need to get a mutual language established ASAP, and that’s our best avenue to do so.” She stood on now-shaky legs. “Still, I’m not at all qualified for any sort of military action. I wouldn’t know one end of a gun from the other.” De Vries laughed. “Oh, I know. I’m not asking you to personally wield a weapon. The people I’m sending with you know all about that kind of thing. They might be a bit rough around the edges, but they’re solid. I’d send ‘em into hell itself to rescue me. And as to what this is, it’s a scouting action rather than a full-on attack. We need intel, badly.” Chao felt the silence gather in the room as she pondered her decision. Finally she nodded. “Okay, sir.” “Good!” The general pulled out his ever-present smartphone. “Agent Mudrak? I’ve got someone who needs a fast trip to Andrews.” Now that she’d made her decision, Chao’s brain started again and immediately seized up. “Sir? I’ll need to pack before I leave or…or…what the hell do I bring?” “Just bring yourself,” replied De Vries. “I’ll make sure you’ve got the appropriate kit waiting for you when you get there.” __________ Chao clung with white-knuckled hands at the harness strapped tight around her. The aircraft she was now ensconced within bounced around in an apparent attempt to shake itself apart. It was her first time flying military, of course, and the lack of creature comforts was stark. The utilitarian interior of the…she thought Agent Mudrak had called it a C-130, but maybe she’d mis-heard…the interior of the whatever it was utterly reeked of old oil and hydraulic fluid and who knew what else. The air within was also filled with an unholy drone. She was very glad that, upon meeting the group of soldiers paired with her, their first act had been to hand her some ear protection. In spite of the turbulence, the soldiers walked around as if nothing was happening. They checked their gear, guns, and armor with the air of it all being no big deal. She’d been shoved on board so fast that she’d never had a chance to get their names. One of them, a big muscular guy with bright green eyes and red hair, looked over at her and smiled. He wore a bushy red beard as well, which surprised her. Weren’t soldiers supposed to be clean-shaven? She gave the big man a wan smile back, hoping that she wasn’t about to lose her lunch all over herself. The big redhead rose and strolled over to her seat. He sat next to her and stuck out a hand. “I’m Sergeant Shaw, ma’am. Y’all can call me Mack.” The sergeant had to all but scream to be heard over the unholy noise of the aircraft around them. It made Chao appreciate the soundproofing that went into commercial jetliners. She shook the proffered hand. “Chao Me Chu,” she yelled back. “You can call me Chao.” She gestured to the rocking environment around them. “Is this normal?” “Sure is!” replied Mack with aplomb. “But don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, ma’am, these Hercs are built double-tough.” He reached under his seat and retrieved a few folded paper bags which had an obvious purpose. He handed them to Chao with a wink. “Here, just in case. I’ve used these plenty of times myself.” Chao received the barf bags with a grateful nod. In the meantime, Mack pulled out a map of Colorado. He pointed at a point almost in the center of the rectangular state. “Current plan is we land here, at Pederson. They’ll have your kit waiting for you there. Helmet, armor, comms. We’ll get y’all geared up, then transfer to a Blackhawk to take us to this mystery location.” He moved his finger to the point which Blake had triangulated earlier. “After that…well ma’am, I guess that’s your call.” His green eyes fixed upon her. “Don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what this is all about?” She felt a twist of surprise in her guts, a welcome relief from the impending nausea. “They didn’t tell you?” “No, ma’am. All I know is I got me a general on the Joint Chiefs of Staff who told me ‘n my peeps to get a subject matter expert…that’s you…to this here point on the map.” He stabbed again at the area near Manitoba Springs. “He also told me that if you get so much as a scratch on ya he’s gonna make me wear my ass for a hat.” Mack winked at her again. “I kinda like my ass where it is, Chao. So any additional information you have will be very helpful.” She paused, uncertain as to how to proceed. “That particular general is in the US Space Force,” continued Mack. “Dunno why he’d have us doing a ground mission. Is it some sort of crashed satellite?” “No.” “Huh.” Mack’s cheerful face relaxed in contemplation. “Yanno, I’m not one of those doofuses who believes in Roswell and all that. But knowing what we’re up against would be nice.” “I don’t know if we’re ‘up against’ anything,” said Chao. “We…there might be something there, might not be. We might wind up just wandering around in the woods like idiots.” Mack leaned back, his face thoughtful. “When you say something, do you mean some stupid bullshit like that Chinese balloon from a while ago? I mean, I get needing to get ahold of that before the civvies do but this feels like there’s a lot more urgency.” She decided to go for it. After all, these people would soon be watching her back. They needed the full debrief. “Not something. Someone.” “Eh?” Mack’s puzzled expression suddenly went slack as the penny dropped. “Holy shit. Really?” “Maybe. Like I said, it’s inconclusive.” She sighed, a sound totally missed in the din of the aircraft’s interior. “Okay. Gather everyone around, I’ll fill you all in on what’s been going on.” __________ Kifa wriggled in her species’ version of a relieved sigh as she stepped off of her control saddle. “We are now landed, Captain. As near as I can tell we weren’t detected, in spite of the increased EM emissions from this country’s advertised exercise.” Captain Sadaf nodded her horns. “Excellent work.” She turned to the rest of the crew. “Are we all ready? Once we crack the entrance, we won’t be able to get out of our suits until we get the all-clear.” She received a chorus of various types of assent from her crew. “Okay, then. Let’s get started. Don your hardsuits, and I’m going to personally check each of you before we open the door.” __________ Sadaf had done this many times before, but there was still a little thrill along her spine as the landing boat’s door hissed open. It lowered, forming a ramp to the ground beneath. She wished she could smell the air of this new planet, but right now she was breathing filtered, recycled air from her hardsuit. Various implements inserted in various uncomfortable places meant that she could wear the armored carapace sort-of-comfortably for many days; its outer surface was nanoengineered to shed any pollen or spores she might come in contact with, making the suit easier to decontaminate. The Captain wasn’t planning to stay outside, but she was the one in charge and she’d at least be the one to lead her team out onto a new planet. If some giant predator appeared out of the brush and ganked her, well at least it was her and not her crew. She walked down the ramp, scanning for any hostile fauna. Her suit’s imagers extended her vision well into the infrared and ultraviolet, not to mention it had a subtle ‘sonar’ function to detect movement. Thus, for the moment, Sadaf felt safe in exposing herself. Huge growths reached into the night sky around the small clearing holding their boat; they branched out in interesting fractal ways with small green needles at the very ends of those branches. The big growths were interspersed with smaller plantlife. A thick coating of frozen crystalline whiteness overlaid the ground; she figured it was most likely water-snow. Nothing moved out to the limits of her scanners; it didn’t appear that this planet’s biosphere was intent on ending her life for now. She bounced on her digitigrade feet, judging the new planet’s gravity. It was a little higher than the Coalition norm, but it should be acceptable for any of her crew. Sadaf brought up her wrist-mounted computer and consulted its holographic display. Their quarry’s house showed up as a beacon on the topographic map; it looked to be something like an hour’s hike from this point. First things first, however. They needed to get some biological, soil, and air samples to check for any possible deadly diseases or allergens. Even if the ‘interview’ turned into a complete disaster they’d have something to show for it. She turned to the open door. “Dhuz, time to go to work.” __________ In the gloom of the half-moon above, Matt munched on an energy bar and thought about the life choices which had led him to this moment. He lay prone, clad once more in his camouflaged snowsuit with an accompanying mask and a pair of night-vision goggles strapped to his head. For the moment the latter were pushed up onto his forehead; he didn’t like relying entirely on such things, plus they tended to ‘flatten’ one’s perception and make it more difficult to gauge distance or spacing. He’d start using them when it became necessary. He heard a distant growl of an engine, a car making its way to the parking spot he’d picked out as the most likely for his supposed ambushers to choose. He saw a flash of headlights through the trees, lights that became suddenly extinguished along with the engine noise. He tucked away his half-eaten bar while he finished chewing and swallowing his current mouthful. The biggest question was what, exactly, to do with these assholes. His current position was behind a stump on a little rise overlooking the approach from the parking lot to his house. If he made a positive ID on them, he could drill them all within seconds…but that would be straight-up murder. In spite of his earlier threat to them, it was far too likely that their bodies would be found. Ernie wasn’t an idiot; he’d know it was Matt who’d put them down. So his current plan was to track them. If they approached his house, then they were indeed the jackasses he was waiting for. He’d let ‘em blunder around inside his dwelling for a bit, then when they came back out he’d at least try to get the idiots to drop their weapons. If they did, he’d zip-tie them and give Ernie a call. If they didn’t? Well, they were the ones in his house pointing guns at him. That would be that, then, wouldn’t it? He saw a bit of movement through the trees and slipped his goggles down to get a better look. __________ Dhuz hummed in pleasure as she scooped a soil sample into another self-sealing container. She jotted down on her wrist computer the container’s ID as well as where she’d collected it from. She had a growing stack of other containers set near the boat’s entrance; when this was all over (hopefully soon) she’d have a lot of data to churn through. But that was a wonderful notion to her; she was at her happiest when working. She mused on what to take next. She’d gotten samples of all the plant growths, a few air samples, and this was her third soil sample. Dhuz wished there was at least a small creature of some sort to capture; the Coalition’s general experience was that fauna were the most likely carriers of dangerous agents. Part of the planned ‘involuntary interview’ was that they’d get skin swabs and, if the human was agreeable, a few skin scrapings as well. She’d have to come up with other possible samples on the jump. Blood was an obvious one, but it might be difficult to get the human’s permission. Waste matter, perhaps?… Dhuz’s internal monologue cut short as her suit emitted a soft ping in her ear, alerting her to movement not too distant. She closed her map in surprise and looked up. Four figures outlined in red moved through the far-off underbrush. They were much closer than expected, perhaps a few minutes hike from their current position. She froze, making sure that the distant figures continued their creeping and didn’t show any sign of having spotted her. Dhuz carefully walked backwards up the ramp, into the boat’s interior. The crew’s postures showed that they’d picked up her sudden tension. She made sure to also nudge her precious cargo of samples inside. “There are four humans, about two hundred yards distant in that direction.” She pointed as she spoke, not bothering to whisper. All of their suit’s comms were interlinked, and there was no chance of her voice being heard by anyone outside. “They’re single file. What the frinx are they doing out here?” “They must be out for a night hike!” said Tofa with enthusiasm. “This is even better, we can interview four of them!” Dhuz knew that Sadaf had a long, nasty-looking scar on her right thigh, one which she’d received many years ago when making contact with a seedworld. In spite of that world being filled with members of her own kind, it turned out they’d resorted to religious fascism and tried to kill her and her team. In spite of readily available regeneration, the Captain had elected to keep the scar as a reminder to never, ever let her guard down. “Sometimes it’s better to be cautious,” was all Sadaf said in reply. “Are they carrying weapons?” asked Takh. “Not that I could tell,” said Dhuz. “But they’re far enough away to make it hard to be sure.” Tofa waved a dismissive pedipalp. “From what we’ve seen, the natives only have slug-throwers. Our hardsuit armor can easily withstand that.” “Are you willing to bet your life on that?” asked the Captain. Takh took a long look out the open door as he also scanned the four newcomers. “I agree with Dhuz. They do not appear to be carrying anti-materiel weaponry; those would definitely show up in their outline, being bulkier and longer.” Sadaf took in and let out a deep breath. “All right. We still only send two. I profusely apologize, Dhuz, but I’m taking your place.” She held up a hand to forestall Dhuz’s protest. “I have more combat training than you. I was willing to risk it when it was two on one, now it’s two on four.” Dhuz slumped a bit. Sacred Mothers, Sadaf was right. “Just be careful.” Sadaf gave a throaty chuckle and tapped her right thigh. “Don’t worry, Dhuz,” said Takh. He gave a dismissive click of his mandibles. “I’ll be able to handle them, even if they do turn violent.” __________ Declan realized now that he hadn’t brought the right boots. He’d opted for some lower-cut hiking boots that felt good on his feet; unfortunately, they were not really made for trudging through significant amounts of snow. Bits of the frozen crap kept working its way down around his feet. On the other hand, he’d done as Harvey had instructed and worn some nice thick wool socks. It kept the worst of the cold and wet out, but it still wasn’t fun. At least the rest of him was warm; the four of them all wore black balaclavas and decent winter clothing. One thing was for sure; he was glad that Harvey had drilled them a bit on wearing the damned goggles and carrying around their various weapons. Even so, his neck was killing him from the heavy piece of tech now pushed up on his forehead. His rifle’s sling cut into his shoulder in an annoying fashion, and for the millionth time he shrugged to reset it. Declan figured that, once this thing was done, he was out. He’d find someplace warm…maybe New Mexico? Somewhere that didn’t contain revenge-driven drug lords. A place where he could just settle down and do crime like a normal person. Vincente stalked along about five yards in front of him. The tweeker was even more jittery than usual, although at least he was keeping his damn pistol pointed in front of him instead of waving it all over the place. Declan suspected that Harvey had pulled him aside and threatened grievous bodily injury if he flagged anyone on the team. Javier crunched along through the snow behind Declan, toting the shotgun that was now his favorite thing ever. Bringing up the rear was the hulking form of Harvey, who sported a vicious-looking rifle with a familiar banana-shaped magazine. Declan was no gun expert, but he was pretty sure it was an AK-47. Vincente’s head suddenly snapped around to their right. Declan gave a silent sigh. Dammit, what now? The tweeker pointed his pistol in that same direction. “I just heard something. Over there.” Declan opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Vincente to stop being a damned idiot. But then he heard a crunching of snow and rustling of bushes from the right. He could feel the sudden tension in the air as the two men behind him heard it as well. “Goggles down,” said Harvey. Declan dutifully pulled down the uncomfortable thing in front of his eyes and pressed the ‘on’ switch. submitted by /u/Frank_Leroux to r/HFY [link] [comments]

I crack my knuckles for dramatic effect. “This may be a side job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still strut my stuff,” I whisper to myself. Pressing a button against my latest creation: a complex mining robot resembling a human with a gigantic chainsaw arm, a holographic prompt sticks out from the shoulder. My supervisor and his fellow assistants nod with intrigue. I make the sign of the cross jokingly before pressing the start button. The machine moans to life, gets a good grip on its saw, and charges into the nearest salt deposit, thrusting its whining blade into the rock. Excavator teeth crunch into the grainy salt slabs, spewing plumes of dust like cocaine in the wind. I slide a hand between my hard hat, safety goggles, and my forehead to cool my damp scalp off. With a remote, I set the machine’s speed to the maximum, allowing it to chew into the sides of the walls. Booming in from the sounds of wailing and grinding machinery is the supervisor’s voice in a megaphone: “Nicole, you’ve done it again! What can we do without your machinery?” I give him a thumbs up before returning to calibrating the machinery cutting away at the bowels of the earth. I need to show my boss that I was worthy of a raise. I’ve spent months saving up for that special day with my fiancé. “Come one, Project GMNI…Put your back into it!” I pleaded to the robot, hoping that it could impress my boss even more. To my shock, it moves onto the next deposit with ease. I jump when sparks and sawdust on the spur of the moment eject from the robot’s oversized chainsaw. Scowling at the machine, I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be shitting me…” My boss asks me to come over. “Looks like your machine isn’t ready yet, but I am certain that after a few more tests, you should be fine. Don’t sweat the small stuff over things like this. Besides, your shift today is almost up. I will tell the CEO to cut you some slack.” He gives off a reassuring smile. “I think the chain might be rubbing against the bar of the saw.” I reply. I deactivate the machine and grab a lubricant can. Raising my head up and squinting, I see the blade had somehow cut into an archway of steel plated wood. I press my hand against one of the pillars and let my heat transfer to it. The beam is completely cool to the touch. Right in between the support beams and creeping through the archway holes is a taut chain with links the size of steering wheels. A hole as dark as midnight burrows through the ground. Turning on the spelunker’s lamp on my hard hat, I enter it, following where the end of the steel lacework leads. At about one hundred feet into the tunnel, the corridor widens out into a simple circular shape. Old gas lanterns, corroded iron pickaxes, and shattered gas masks line the walls on hooks. Right in the middle of the expanse is a minimalist steel table with a leg missing. “Salt deposits should take several millions of years to form, right?” I thought. A slight droning sound echoes from the northern end of the room, making me double take as I was about to leave. The sound growls from inside two soulless double doors sealed shut with a locking barrier the size of a car tire. “Maybe this was an incomplete tunnel that started from behind those doors and the builders forgot to fill it back up?” I place an ear right where the gap between the two doors is. Droning from inside warps into a throaty and stiff noise resembling vomiting. Brushing it off as just the sounds of the hustle in the mines, I follow the chained ceiling back to the opening tunnel, deactivate the robot, and grab my supplies. -- On the drive back home, I stop in a nearby gas station and pull out my third meal, left in a stereotypical worker’s lunchbox. Specifically, it was the kind of lunch box that resembled more of a fishing kit. After digging in and enjoying its contents, there was piece of meat sitting underneath the toast-shaped sandwich container. “What’s this doing here?” I wonder. “I could have sworn that I packed everything correctly?” Removing the case, I pick up the mystery meat and give it a whiff. The slab of meat was covered in multiple odd chunks that varied in color from green, red, brown, and yellow. I take a bite of the strange substance. Four words can describe the taste: heaven on a plate. It has a sweet and salty flavor that oozes with small amounts of marinated ecstasy. The texture of the meat is perfectly smooth and soft and tears apart easily in my mouth like a marshmallow, except it is not very viscous. A sudden thud makes my hair stand on end. I roll down the window, searching for any clues. Shuffling comes from a group of bushes. Near one of them is a dressy black shoe with hard footsteps leading to it. “Looks like a homeless guy found their shelter at long last. They must have stolen those shoes as well.” I think. After finishing the last remaining leftover, I decide to drive home and hit the hay. ​ THE NEXT DAY ​ Things start to go downhill at breakfast, when I eat a simple scrambled eggs and bacon dish. Upon wolfing down the meal, a hot iron of pain brands my stomach, and I vomit it out in a watery, yellow-red slurry. I call in sick, thinking I developed a stomach bug. What was odd was that I felt perfectly fine as I got out of bed. Was it a rapid onset of food poisoning? Out of curiosity, I check the ingredients that I had used, shocked that they were not even close to their expiration date. Just in case if they were spoiled due to negligence, I throw them out. I try using a different batch of ingredients, cooking up the exact same meal. Same results as before. A pile of vomit comes up, which makes me cringe. Mixed in with the heterogenous slop were bits of black blood the size of marbles. Did I suddenly develop an allergy to eggs and red meat? That can’t be right. Allergies do not develop that quickly. Do they? I swallow some saliva. Instantly, I sprint over to my charging phone, unlock the passcode with shaking and clammy fingers, dial the number as fast as possible and press the phone up to my ear. The dial tone beeps a few times. “Thank you for calling Caduceus Clinic. How may I be of assistance today?” I take a deep breath to prevent my nerves from interfering with my words. “This is Nicole Kathrine Fischer. I would like to schedule an appointment for today. I ate this…weird slice of meat and now my body is just going nuts. I think I might have developed some case of food poisoning, but I just don’t know. Is Dr. Thompson open today?” Through the phone, I can hear the receptionist type in something on her computer. “Dr. Thompson has a slot open at 2:30. Would you like to confirm it?” “Yes, thank you…” I say. For some inexplicable reason, my phone suddenly feels stuck to my ear. I can hear sounds resembling that of slugs on the move as I try to pull it off. With all my strength, I jerk the phone’s glue-like clutches from the side of my head. My eyes meet with the hardwood floor where small droppings of a cheesy substance have fallen. I look at my hand holding the phone. A layer of white substance and bits of skin cake my fingers and phone as if I had dunked my fist into a bowl of gravy. I freeze up in horror at the cellulite mass that covered my phone. My right arm is covered with hundreds of blisters with small black skin horns. The skin is so distorted that one could mistake it for burnt pizza crust with notches and craters and bits of doughy stuff. Without hesitating, I dash to the bathroom and turn on the light, screaming at what happened to my body. A massive nest of pustules took over my right ear. My skin has turned into a deep, shiny, garnet red with bits of purple. The blonde hair on my scalp was somehow intact, but the skin was coated with a sheet of lesions. Skin knots and knobs protrude from my skin like plants sprouting from the dirt. I scrape off the mayonnaise white substance off my phone. Suddenly, my energy levels plummet through the floor. I try to dial 911. Raising a finger to push a single button feels like I was Sisyphus pushing a boulder: straining and struggling. Clusters of almost extraterrestrial pustules keep bursting from my skin along with more masses. “911, what’s your emergency?” Pulling the phone closer to my face, my voice rasps and wheezes. “This is Nicole Kathrine Fischer…Please come over…Right…now…” My legs give away and I crumple to the floor with a thud. The hard force of the bathroom tile against my head puts it in a spin. One of my legs bends to the side while the other sticks out. My hands and arms sprawl out like the feathers of a peacock performing a mating dance. Trying to inhale air is almost impossible due to a feeling of chest tightness. My ribs feel like they are forcing themselves deeper into my lungs like the spikes of an iron maiden closing on an unlucky prisoner. Gravity seems to increase around my head, making it agonizing for me to lift my head up an inch and see what is happening to the rest of my body. Not long after, my eyes began to grow heavy. From the corner of my eye, right by the kitchen window, I could see a man in an ebony suit run off as if he were a criminal escaping police. When he was out of view, I black out. -- White sheets stick to the sores of my back with sickly beige residue dripping from them. I clutch my right arm upon feeling a pinch right where the inner elbow is, leading to an IV bag. As I reach to ease the pain, I feel another slight sting where a separate IV connects to my left arm. My bed was propped up and I could see another patient nearby me. Right under my left lung is a small food tube inserted into my skin. “Her heart rate is stable, Doctor,” a nurse speaks to a higher-up. “Thank you for the information, Nurse Quincy. I will now speak to the patient.” I turn my head to the grey bearded doctor. “Doc, what the hell is wrong with me?” I whisper frantically. “I just want to say this in the easiest way: for reasons that we haven’t determined yet, your body somehow developed sudden allergies to almost every chemical your body can produce. I’m sorry, but your prognosis does not look good. Your chance of survival is only 6%,” the doctor says, solemnly resting a gloved hand on my shoulder. All the blood in my body freezes at his words. I shake my head. “No. There’s no way that this is true. Maybe your diagnosis notes were mixed up with someone else’s! Please, tell me that there is some kind of mistake!” My voice grows louder and I press my hands against the side of the bed in desperation. “My team has run multiple tests of your blood. We confirmed that there are no errors. We are all very sorry about your condition and we are doing our best to try and save you.” Raising both scabbed hands to my face, I stare at them until my eyes water. “No. This isn’t fair…This must be a misdiagnosis! It HAS to be!” I choke on my tears, biting my lip. My doctor only whispers a simple ‘I am so sorry.’ An illness like this shouldn’t take a bright engineering student like me. I was supposed to get married in just a handful of months to a beautiful, brilliant husband, too. If this illness kills me, I won’t ever see him again. The only thing that will accompany me when I die is the void I will remain in for an eternity. And even if my wounds do heal, there’s no way in hell he would even stick around. He’d just go and find a person without hideous scars. My tears begin to fall faster, and I bury my eyes in my rotten hands. “Would you like for me to call your fiancée and tell him the situation?” He asks. I brush my blonde hair, straining to look at him and failing to pull myself together. My throat and tongue feel like they will burst from my lower jaw, they were so tight. I give him a nod. “As you wish, ma’am. I will leave you alone now. If you need anything, let my nurses know.” When the door gently closes shut, I stare misty-eyed at the ivory crumpled sheets stained with the strange ooze for a while. Then, I close my eyes, catching a glimpse of another black suited man out the window. In a shock, I rise from my bed, leaning and searching for the mysterious person. Like a ghost, he’d vanished without a trace. Closing my eyes again, I let all the moments I spent with my fiancé sink in, hoping that the memories would bring some peace. Counting one’s blessings, as far as I’ve heard, soothes the panicked and sad soul. I wipe away the tears and let my mind be free. Back at my university, Fabio and I were famous for being masterminds at robotics. Several times, we used to design battlebots and watch them wipe the floor with the competition. He designed all the weaponry and the bells and whistles while I did the main structure and the programming. A slight blush forms on my cheeks. I remember our first date at a gaming convention where he gave me our first kiss right at the end of a “cutest cosplay couple” competition. My cheeks grow warmer as more pleasant thoughts wrap around my arms and seem to ease the pain of the crusting wounds. Finally, I remember how he proposed to me. While we were at another gaming convention, he handed me a simple silver cube about the size of several stacked laptops. Fabio asked me to press the glowing diamond button on top. Complying, I did. I watched the machinery rearrange itself into different configurations until several lights were in one spot, forming a hologram with the words “Nicole, will you marry me?” When I turned to him, he was on one knee and resting his leg on his cosplay knight armor and holding a ring in the shape of a gaming controller. Covering my mouth and gasping, I ran up to him, embracing him. “Yes!” I squealed, kissing him once again and letting the crowd of gamers applaud in respect. When I opened up my eyes, gazing at the popcorn ceiling, I was smiling. I rest my head against my pillow and close my eyes in peace. A brief cool breeze settles around me. The hum of the fluorescent lights calms me down even further. Unfortunately, the happiness drains away instantly when I catch dozens of horn growths sprouting from my extremities like oversized hippopotamus teeth. Several more wounds break open around my torso, releasing fumes of a nauseating gas. I scream as the jaundiced yellow fluid starts to spray out of my backside like a waterfall of bodily fluids. Then, there is a jab in my neck. I brush my hand against the area, craning my neck towards a fuzzy tip. A tranquilizer dart. My eyes grow heavy once more and I fall onto my fluid covered pillow, helplessly trying to move. The suited man from before hovers over me, hoisting me up haphazardly, throwing me over his shoulder. He jumps out my window and scrambles through the parking lot and the thicket of the nearby forest. Somniferous fluid pumps through my veins, and I fall asleep. -- Squish. Squish. Rustle. A vertical cushion surrounds my body when I wake up. Binds of tendons hold me to the soft, warm surface. I try to rub my eyes open, but find myself unable to move my arms. Shaking the sleep from my head, hundreds of wriggling and contorted bodies surround me. My skin has turned into a deeper shade of shiny crimson and the wounds have turned into nothing but bloody holes with hard roots that dig into the wall of writhing humans. All of the carcasses are moaning in agony and reaching out to other nearby bodies. I look up, seeing a crevasse of dim light poking up from the ceiling. “Somebody help us!” I shout. Through the groaning, I can hear an argument from far away. I grit my teeth trying to pull away from the wall of shimmering red and maroon, only to be sucked back into place. Wounds pressed against other bodies have formed bloody roots, grafting me in place with the others. The longer I stare at those bodies, the more my body pumps with fury. I don’t give a shit where the hell I am, but I know that I will get out. If I don’t, my final moments must involve me putting up a fight and getting to the bottom of this shenanigan. Twisting my neck to my right side, I chew away the muscular restraints at my shoulders, holding the wriggling tumors in the backs of my lips. My tongue accidentally touches one of the tendrils. I yelp in shock. Those cankerous masses matched the taste of the lunchmeat to a T. “Was I fed fucking diseased human meat yesterday?!” I think to myself. Spitting out the nasty remains, I purse my lips before taking another chomp at the flesh vines, working my way down the shoulder to the upper arm. When my dominant hand is freed, I claw out the other hand from the wall of wailing bodies. My prison of flesh starts to crackle as I try to squirm away from it. After that, I grab on to a panicking man’s arms, wrenching my legs free. Desperate conglomerates of skin and bones begin to surround me. “Get your hands off! I promise I will bring someone if I make it out alive!” I shout, pulling them off, but making sure I don’t injure them. Upon stating those words, the rest of the bodies retreat from me. “Hey, did you hear that?” “What’s going on over there?” I gasp, blending back in and mimicking the cries of the others. From the corner of my eyes, there are two black suited men peering over the edge. Someone in the red abyss lunges at one of the men. “BACK OFF!” he bellows, firing warning shots into the air. The bodies retreat back into the crevice. His right-hand man turns his head to the first guy. “You think we’re just hearing things?” He says. “Yeah.” I wait a few minutes after the workers have gone and then squirm my way through the cavern of maroon tusks, tendrils, and tentacles. My hands touch the concrete edges of the ravine, and I crouch down. After giving two good surveys of the area, I bring myself back up. Looking up, there are rows of blinking fluorescent light bulbs hanging from a ceiling around a hundred feet tall. The darkness is so thick that the bulbs neither light up the floor nor my line of sight. Still wary, I bring my head back down. I circle the ravine path formations counterclockwise and try to make out what their shapes mean. Towards the end of the path is a crypt around twenty feet wide and hundreds of feet long. Dug deep into the sides are ridges an unknown depth deep, evenly spaced. Another group of flesh paths surrounds the other side of the fissures. I take a few steps back, trying to grasp the bigger picture of the fissures. The paths were in the shape of hideous butterfly wings and the crypt was shaped like an insect’s main body. Those humans were used to make a mold. Shifting my head around, I find a microscopic speck of light hanging far away, resting right on the horizon. The exit. Random, staccato, alien-like clicking reflects off the walls from the direction of my escape route. I put my hands close together, right where my chest is. Taking another deep breath, I put out my fists in a fighting stance, creeping through the darkness. My eyes slide around in their sockets as I search for anything to take cover behind. For several hundreds of feet, I can’t find anything. A tingling electrocutes my spine when I hear more inexplicable clicking. It didn’t take me long to figure out that there was a something inside this chamber. Glass containment vats suddenly come into focus from my left side. The strange vats were filled with more floundering, twitching, and moaning humans. At the bottom is a sloped cement slab next to a conveyor belt. Guillotine-like devices lie where the first part of the conveyor belt is. Towards the end of the path is a series of circular cookie cutter punches. Right below are dozens of smuggled lunch boxes. Running up for a look, I pick up one of them, right at the nearest vat. “What the fuck…” I mouth. My supervisor’s name was written on the lunch box. Whirrrrrrrrr… A trapdoor in the ceiling opens, revealing a stack of blood coated motorized sawblades. The unfortunate souls in the vat scream in horror as it drops down into the container’s top. I shut my eyes. Whirrrrrrrrr… Hot tsunamis of viscera, cutaneous horns, and tendons rain from the top of the vat and cover my skin. In five seconds, the blades make it to the bottom of the vat, retracting back into the ceiling with the dripping and inactive motors. I reopen my eyes, scrubbing off the coat of blood off my skin. My hand catches onto one of the skin horns, cutting it open a bit. Wincing, I flick my wrist around to sooth it. SHING! SPLAT! Sections of meat are chopped apart in front of the mouth, preparing to be dropped into the hodge podge of lunch bins. My eyes meet with the putrid slurry of ground up humans. Without a second thought, I shove the lunch boxes away, grabbing my supervisor’s lunch box and a random coworker’s. If I tell him about this place, he is certain to believe me based on the wounds; but I might need a pièce de resistance or two to back up my story. Rhythmic clicking echoes through the chambers of steel. Giving another look at the exit, I stick my eyes at the ceiling. I glance back at the chambers of writhing humans. Even if I can’t save the bodies in the butterfly mold, I must save those in the tanks. I fish out my supervisor’s metal water bottle, sprint up to next closest tank and crash it against the glass. It doesn’t budge. “So much for Plan A…” I grumble. A cold sweat forms on my chest as two guards detect the sudden clanging, yanking out their pistols. I scramble back into the depths until I can’t see the guards, next changing my path back to my target. I fight the urge to turn back as the same alien clicking enters my ears. Pumping my arms, I pierce through the shadows. In the distance, I hear the chatter of two unseen guards right where the northernmost wall is. “The Falena wants her metamorphosis to begin by nightfall tomorrow! If those wings are not complete, we’re worm food,” one whimpers. “Chill out 461225! The routine is simple: all we do is break into those idiots’ houses, take their lunch boxes, fill it with the goods, and place it back right where they were. After this shift, we should have enough to finish the membrane. Besides, the mine is closed for another six hours, so we have time to fuck around and prepare for phase 2.” “How did we get into this mess in the first place 655321?” “As far as I’m concerned, CEO Shitwhistle decided ‘this looks like a great spot to mine’ and intruded on the Falena’s home. In exchange for his survival and use of the mines, he has to sample living flesh in order for her to transform. This leads to him hiring us to go after the best target for this task: the mine workers. Eventually, when the wings are complete, the Falena will be able to fly away and find a new home away from human territory.” I scratch my head at the phrase “Falena.” Darting back into the abyss, I watch the exit grow closer until a mountain of moving and jiggling blubber blocks my path. With a few steps back, I try to analyze what exactly was in front of me. Concealed in the inky air is a beast made out of rows and rows of sagging and fatty arms and legs. In between each of the bulbous toes and fingers are claws as large as scythe blades that scrape against the floor. Its body consists of layers of rolls of pulsating and rotund flesh like a skin-colored layer cake tipped on its side. Matted and twisted hair drapes from its spine to its thighs. Its fat pulses down its segments as it moves. For a moment, its flesh keeps pulsing until it abruptly stops. A face shape appears from the darkness. As it grows closer, my nerves seize up in terror. The beast’s face was that of a beyond overweight human woman’s. Its small insectoid eyes were nearly covered by wrinkly and hideous flab. Cheek flesh droops down in more layers like the vertical gills of fish. Sweat trickles down from the gaps between its blubber. Poking from between the scabbed lips is a rostrum resembling that of a hornet’s beak. The moment it looks at me, I run straight for the exit. A shriek from the revolting grub makes my blood drop to my feet. It charges right behind me with all its legs moving in perfect harmony. Several guards spot me trying to escape. They yank out their pistols, barrels blazing and smoke filling the room. “Eat her, Falena. She isn’t worth the trouble,” A guard says. The beast drops its neck down, taking a snap and missing my leg. Furious, it makes a leap, slashing at me with its glyceride coated claws. Darting bullets shoot past me, whizzing by my head and torso. One of the bullets hits my lower shin and I kneel in agony. The Falena takes another chomp at me. As fast as my injured leg could carry me, I dive under the titanic larva’s arm pits, missing the legs before they could flatten me, and back away from the carnivorous caterpillar’s hungry jaws. I take the two lunch boxes, slipping their handles on my arm as if they were sleeves. Four more guards storm in from behind, firing between the gaps of the monster’s limbs and missing as I stealthily weave between them. While the caterpillar attempts to shake me off its underside, I glance at the door. Two guards slam the door shut with clang, twisting the tumbling mechanism shut. I pound a fist at my knee in frustration. As more ammunition clinks against the ground, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The moment when most of the guards have stopped to reload, I get down from my safe haven, quickly sliding down the arm. Sensing me, the creature tries to throw me to the ground and makes several more slashes at me. All of them miss. With every bit of strength I have, I force myself into a sprint, screaming as my injured leg throbs. More guards unleash a nest of flying metal. One bullet digs into my other leg, making me trip. The Falena tries to take another chomp at both of my injured legs. I limp away before its beak could close on one of them. My hands touch the thick turning mechanism. Grunting in anger, I try to twist it open. I turn around as more bullets aim for me. Surprisingly, I am able to force the locking wheel to twist. Sweat pools down my forehead. The Falena ends up smacking me away from the mechanism, the floor grinding away the skin from my back. Snarling, I get back up, continuing to limp to the door. Three guards block it and I immediately punch one in the face. I take the agent’s gun and fire it at the other two before returning to work on the door. The dangerous grub takes several more snaps. For a few seconds, I scare it off by firing the gun at its face. With a fortunate opening in place, I finally force open the door, shutting it just as the Falena was able to shake off its stunned state. “GO BACK TO YOUR EGG, DIPSHIT!” I yell. From behind the door, the mine quakes with the rage of the beast. I shut my eyes in relief for a small breather. Turning around, I give one last look at the door before waddling out of the mineshaft. Several new paths have been tunneled into the mineshaft walls. Right next to one of these tunnels is my deactivated robot. Groups of suited men grab metal boxes from a forklift and carry them into the brand new corridor of stone. -- In the darkness, my eyes catch a glimpse of an old phone right where the supervisor’s tower was. I ascend the ladder and dial 911, telling them every last bit of information about this scheme. After spilling out everything, I press my back against a railing, close my eyes again, satisfied at my accomplishment. Even if I die from my illness, I can at least be in peace now. CRASH! The doors to the vault whip open and groups of black suited agents fire their weapons at the guard tower. I skitter away from the railing, throwing the only exit trapdoor shut. My eyes take notice of a box of mining equipment, which I set over the hatch. Aerodynamic metal pellets bounce off the steel platform. I press my hands on the crate for extra weight. Rushing down below are guards ascending the nearest ladder. Then, the Falena breaks through the mineshaft passageway, hissing with fury. Its hands secrete a yellow substance. It lowers itself to the ground like guerrilla fighter hiding in shrubbery and brush. I hide behind the box hoping I’m not detected. Bullets stick themselves into the wood as guards continue to fire at me. I gasp when the bulbous grub grips the wall face, ascending it in a sluggish and pulsating manner. It grips the ledge of a bridge leading into another cave. The tower tips over and sends the box flying. Floods of guards continue to fire. Out of dumb luck, a segment of the bridge is still connected to the cave. An exit sign hovers deep into the cave. I furrow my brow. Like a child swinging across monkey bars, I pull myself up and swing over to another set. Due to the blood on my hands coagulating, I can grip myself easily. A stray bullet hits my foot. My grip loosens up as pain shoots through my body, but I readjust it and begin pulling myself, trying to gain momentum in order to make it to the end of the cave. The Falena takes a swipe at my legs and misses. It tries to reach me as I step further back in the cave, misses and plummets to the ground under the weight of its flesh. I peer down at the carnivorous caterpillar, noticing shouting way off into the distance. The Falena reapplies a layer of sticky fluid to its hands, crawling up one last time. Then, groups of police officers storm in, weapons loaded. The Falena screeches in horror at the parade of metal bits. It tries to slash at their riot shields without success. Ten more officers swarm in with M16s, continuing to finish off the caterpillar. Through the folds in its fat, it begins to leak out jaundice yellow grease and clear fluid. As the dying Falena flails around aimlessly, it folds back, and peels off the wall like paint in thinner. When the caterpillar is out of sight, I give a light smile. My legs grow weak and I give an exhale of exhaustion and accomplishment. A wary officer breaks my fall before my limp body can collide with the ground. ​ FIVE DAYS LATER ​ When I woke up from a long coma, I see a foggy image of my fiancé holding my hand. He parts his slick black hair back and looks into my eyes as I slowly open them up. “Fabio?” I croak, rubbing my head sleepily. He looks at the doctors with delight, tears streaming down his cheeks. “The treatment worked…IT FUCKING WORKED!” He hollers with ecstasy. A doctor puts a finger to her lips. I pull my hand away from Fabio’s grasp. The sores were gone. My skin color had returned to a light apricot grey. Not a single scar was left behind. I gasp in awe before a smile forms on my face as well. “Nicole…” he whispers, embracing me in a hug. His warm tears coat the shoulder of my hospital gown. I rest my head against the saddle between his neck and shoulder. “We can finally get married!” ​ TWO DAYS LATER ​ After the wedding ceremony, I see everyone begin to prepare food for the following reception, including a wedding cake high enough to rival Mount Everest and a chocolate fountain rich enough to make one develop diabetes just by whiffing it. I turn my head to my husband, watching him goof around with his buddies. “Hey best man, Dave!” My husband shouts, aiming a champagne bottle like a rifle. A shit-eating grin is plastered on his face and his tongue is hanging out like an excited dog. “What are you doing, Fabio?” He says suspiciously. “Aiming to please the crowd, boy!” He opens up the bottle of champagne, sending the cork flying right into the face of the best man. Everyone starts laughing as Dave grabs another bottle of champagne, marching over to Fabio. He unscrews it and pours it on my husband’s tuxedo. “Suit yourself!” Dave says, playfully teasing him. The laughter of the audience only grows louder. I turn my head back towards the buffet table, eyeing a massive slab of meat on a doner kabob. My eyes widen when I see the distinct multicolored chunks that were in the tainted lunch meat the other day. I gasp, sprinting over and shoving the kabob on the ground. “NO, NO, DON’T EAT THAT!!!” The kabob splats onto the floor, spilling broth everywhere like a capsized oil tanker. I sigh with relief when the kabob is disposed of. A fresh one is brought out. Thankfully, it doesn’t have the tainted meat on it. Fabio rubs my back to reduce my stress. His hands rise and fall with my hyperventilating. The guests grow silent. I put my hand to my eyes and shake my head. “Nicole, is everything alright?” He says. “You look ill.” “That condition really did a number on me. It’s painful to remember. I just need some air.” I give him a smile. He smiles back and gives me a kiss on the cheek. As I step outside of the ballroom, a man in a black suit goes into hiding behind the chapel, signaling his comrades to follow behind. I put my hand to my forehead to get a better look. One of the guards gives an “I’m watching you” gesture to me, dropping a message on the ground before running off. I waddle over in my bulky wedding dress and read the message. “We’re still in debt to the others.” submitted by /u/TheBlackCycloneOrder to r/WeAreLegion [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/KongFuXi to r/ppnojutsu [link] [comments]

I crack my knuckles for dramatic effect. “This may be a side job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still strut my stuff,” I whisper to myself. Pressing a button against my latest creation: a complex mining robot resembling a human with a gigantic chainsaw arm, a holographic prompt sticks out from the shoulder. My supervisor and his fellow assistants nod with intrigue. I make the sign of the cross jokingly before pressing the start button. The machine moans to life, gets a good grip on its saw, and charges into the nearest salt deposit, thrusting its whining blade into the rock. Excavator teeth crunch into the grainy salt slabs, spewing plumes of dust like cocaine in the wind. I slide a hand between my hard hat, safety goggles, and my forehead to cool my damp scalp off. With a remote, I set the machine’s speed to the maximum, allowing it to chew into the sides of the walls. Booming in from the sounds of wailing and grinding machinery is the supervisor’s voice in a megaphone: “Nicole, you’ve done it again! What can we do without your machinery?” I give him a thumbs up before returning to calibrating the machinery cutting away at the bowels of the earth. I need to show my boss that I was worthy of a raise. I’ve spent months saving up for that special day with my fiancé. “Come one, Project GMNI…Put your back into it!” I pleaded to the robot, hoping that it could impress my boss even more. To my shock, it moves onto the next deposit with ease. I jump when sparks and sawdust on the spur of the moment eject from the robot’s oversized chainsaw. Scowling at the machine, I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be shitting me…” My boss asks me to come over. “Looks like your machine isn’t ready yet, but I am certain that after a few more tests, you should be fine. Don’t sweat the small stuff over things like this. Besides, your shift today is almost up. I will tell the CEO to cut you some slack.” He gives off a reassuring smile. “I think the chain might be rubbing against the bar of the saw.” I reply. I deactivate the machine and grab a lubricant can. Raising my head up and squinting, I see the blade had somehow cut into an archway of steel plated wood. I press my hand against one of the pillars and let my heat transfer to it. The beam is completely cool to the touch. Right in between the support beams and creeping through the archway holes is a taut chain with links the size of steering wheels. A hole as dark as midnight burrows through the ground. Turning on the spelunker’s lamp on my hard hat, I enter it, following where the end of the steel lacework leads. At about one hundred feet into the tunnel, the corridor widens out into a simple circular shape. Old gas lanterns, corroded iron pickaxes, and shattered gas masks line the walls on hooks. Right in the middle of the expanse is a minimalist steel table with a leg missing. “Salt deposits should take several millions of years to form, right?” I thought. A slight droning sound echoes from the northern end of the room, making me double take as I was about to leave. The sound growls from inside two soulless double doors sealed shut with a locking barrier the size of a car tire. “Maybe this was an incomplete tunnel that started from behind those doors and the builders forgot to fill it back up?” I place an ear right where the gap between the two doors is. Droning from inside warps into a throaty and stiff noise resembling vomiting. Brushing it off as just the sounds of the hustle in the mines, I follow the chained ceiling back to the opening tunnel, deactivate the robot, and grab my supplies. -- On the drive back home, I stop in a nearby gas station and pull out my third meal, left in a stereotypical worker’s lunchbox. Specifically, it was the kind of lunch box that resembled more of a fishing kit. After digging in and enjoying its contents, there was piece of meat sitting underneath the toast-shaped sandwich container. “What’s this doing here?” I wonder. “I could have sworn that I packed everything correctly?” Removing the case, I pick up the mystery meat and give it a whiff. The slab of meat was covered in multiple odd chunks that varied in color from green, red, brown, and yellow. I take a bite of the strange substance. Four words can describe the taste: heaven on a plate. It has a sweet and salty flavor that oozes with small amounts of marinated ecstasy. The texture of the meat is perfectly smooth and soft and tears apart easily in my mouth like a marshmallow, except it is not very viscous. A sudden thud makes my hair stand on end. I roll down the window, searching for any clues. Shuffling comes from a group of bushes. Near one of them is a dressy black shoe with hard footsteps leading to it. “Looks like a homeless guy found their shelter at long last. They must have stolen those shoes as well.” I think. After finishing the last remaining leftover, I decide to drive home and hit the hay. ​ THE NEXT DAY ​ Things start to go downhill at breakfast, when I eat a simple scrambled eggs and bacon dish. Upon wolfing down the meal, a hot iron of pain brands my stomach, and I vomit it out in a watery, yellow-red slurry. I call in sick, thinking I developed a stomach bug. What was odd was that I felt perfectly fine as I got out of bed. Was it a rapid onset of food poisoning? Out of curiosity, I check the ingredients that I had used, shocked that they were not even close to their expiration date. Just in case if they were spoiled due to negligence, I throw them out. I try using a different batch of ingredients, cooking up the exact same meal. Same results as before. A pile of vomit comes up, which makes me cringe. Mixed in with the heterogenous slop were bits of black blood the size of marbles. Did I suddenly develop an allergy to eggs and red meat? That can’t be right. Allergies do not develop that quickly. Do they? I swallow some saliva. Instantly, I sprint over to my charging phone, unlock the passcode with shaking and clammy fingers, dial the number as fast as possible and press the phone up to my ear. The dial tone beeps a few times. “Thank you for calling Caduceus Clinic. How may I be of assistance today?” I take a deep breath to prevent my nerves from interfering with my words. “This is Nicole Kathrine Fischer. I would like to schedule an appointment for today. I ate this…weird slice of meat and now my body is just going nuts. I think I might have developed some case of food poisoning, but I just don’t know. Is Dr. Thompson open today?” Through the phone, I can hear the receptionist type in something on her computer. “Dr. Thompson has a slot open at 2:30. Would you like to confirm it?” “Yes, thank you…” I say. For some inexplicable reason, my phone suddenly feels stuck to my ear. I can hear sounds resembling that of slugs on the move as I try to pull it off. With all my strength, I jerk the phone’s glue-like clutches from the side of my head. My eyes meet with the hardwood floor where small droppings of a cheesy substance have fallen. I look at my hand holding the phone. A layer of white substance and bits of skin cake my fingers and phone as if I had dunked my fist into a bowl of gravy. I freeze up in horror at the cellulite mass that covered my phone. My right arm is covered with hundreds of blisters with small black skin horns. The skin is so distorted that one could mistake it for burnt pizza crust with notches and craters and bits of doughy stuff. Without hesitating, I dash to the bathroom and turn on the light, screaming at what happened to my body. A massive nest of pustules took over my right ear. My skin has turned into a deep, shiny, garnet red with bits of purple. The blonde hair on my scalp was somehow intact, but the skin was coated with a sheet of lesions. Skin knots and knobs protrude from my skin like plants sprouting from the dirt. I scrape off the mayonnaise white substance off my phone. Suddenly, my energy levels plummet through the floor. I try to dial 911. Raising a finger to push a single button feels like I was Sisyphus pushing a boulder: straining and struggling. Clusters of almost extraterrestrial pustules keep bursting from my skin along with more masses. “911, what’s your emergency?” Pulling the phone closer to my face, my voice rasps and wheezes. “This is Nicole Kathrine Fischer…Please come over…Right…now…” My legs give away and I crumple to the floor with a thud. The hard force of the bathroom tile against my head puts it in a spin. One of my legs bends to the side while the other sticks out. My hands and arms sprawl out like the feathers of a peacock performing a mating dance. Trying to inhale air is almost impossible due to a feeling of chest tightness. My ribs feel like they are forcing themselves deeper into my lungs like the spikes of an iron maiden closing on an unlucky prisoner. Gravity seems to increase around my head, making it agonizing for me to lift my head up an inch and see what is happening to the rest of my body. Not long after, my eyes began to grow heavy. From the corner of my eye, right by the kitchen window, I could see a man in an ebony suit run off as if he were a criminal escaping police. When he was out of view, I black out. -- White sheets stick to the sores of my back with sickly beige residue dripping from them. I clutch my right arm upon feeling a pinch right where the inner elbow is, leading to an IV bag. As I reach to ease the pain, I feel another slight sting where a separate IV connects to my left arm. My bed was propped up and I could see another patient nearby me. Right under my left lung is a small food tube inserted into my skin. “Her heart rate is stable, Doctor,” a nurse speaks to a higher-up. “Thank you for the information, Nurse Quincy. I will now speak to the patient.” I turn my head to the grey bearded doctor. “Doc, what the hell is wrong with me?” I whisper frantically. “I just want to say this in the easiest way: for reasons that we haven’t determined yet, your body somehow developed sudden allergies to almost every chemical your body can produce. I’m sorry, but your prognosis does not look good. Your chance of survival is only 6%,” the doctor says, solemnly resting a gloved hand on my shoulder. All the blood in my body freezes at his words. I shake my head. “No. There’s no way that this is true. Maybe your diagnosis notes were mixed up with someone else’s! Please, tell me that there is some kind of mistake!” My voice grows louder and I press my hands against the side of the bed in desperation. “My team has run multiple tests of your blood. We confirmed that there are no errors. We are all very sorry about your condition and we are doing our best to try and save you.” Raising both scabbed hands to my face, I stare at them until my eyes water. “No. This isn’t fair…This must be a misdiagnosis! It HAS to be!” I choke on my tears, biting my lip. My doctor only whispers a simple ‘I am so sorry.’ An illness like this shouldn’t take a bright engineering student like me. I was supposed to get married in just a handful of months to a beautiful, brilliant husband, too. If this illness kills me, I won’t ever see him again. The only thing that will accompany me when I die is the void I will remain in for an eternity. And even if my wounds do heal, there’s no way in hell he would even stick around. He’d just go and find a person without hideous scars. My tears begin to fall faster, and I bury my eyes in my rotten hands. “Would you like for me to call your fiancée and tell him the situation?” He asks. I brush my blonde hair, straining to look at him and failing to pull myself together. My throat and tongue feel like they will burst from my lower jaw, they were so tight. I give him a nod. “As you wish, ma’am. I will leave you alone now. If you need anything, let my nurses know.” When the door gently closes shut, I stare misty-eyed at the ivory crumpled sheets stained with the strange ooze for a while. Then, I close my eyes, catching a glimpse of another black suited man out the window. In a shock, I rise from my bed, leaning and searching for the mysterious person. Like a ghost, he’d vanished without a trace. Closing my eyes again, I let all the moments I spent with my fiancé sink in, hoping that the memories would bring some peace. Counting one’s blessings, as far as I’ve heard, soothes the panicked and sad soul. I wipe away the tears and let my mind be free. Back at my university, Fabio and I were famous for being masterminds at robotics. Several times, we used to design battlebots and watch them wipe the floor with the competition. He designed all the weaponry and the bells and whistles while I did the main structure and the programming. A slight blush forms on my cheeks. I remember our first date at a gaming convention where he gave me our first kiss right at the end of a “cutest cosplay couple” competition. My cheeks grow warmer as more pleasant thoughts wrap around my arms and seem to ease the pain of the crusting wounds. Finally, I remember how he proposed to me. While we were at another gaming convention, he handed me a simple silver cube about the size of several stacked laptops. Fabio asked me to press the glowing diamond button on top. Complying, I did. I watched the machinery rearrange itself into different configurations until several lights were in one spot, forming a hologram with the words “Nicole, will you marry me?” When I turned to him, he was on one knee and resting his leg on his cosplay knight armor and holding a ring in the shape of a gaming controller. Covering my mouth and gasping, I ran up to him, embracing him. “Yes!” I squealed, kissing him once again and letting the crowd of gamers applaud in respect. When I opened up my eyes, gazing at the popcorn ceiling, I was smiling. I rest my head against my pillow and close my eyes in peace. A brief cool breeze settles around me. The hum of the fluorescent lights calms me down even further. Unfortunately, the happiness drains away instantly when I catch dozens of horn growths sprouting from my extremities like oversized hippopotamus teeth. Several more wounds break open around my torso, releasing fumes of a nauseating gas. I scream as the jaundiced yellow fluid starts to spray out of my backside like a waterfall of bodily fluids. Then, there is a jab in my neck. I brush my hand against the area, craning my neck towards a fuzzy tip. A tranquilizer dart. My eyes grow heavy once more and I fall onto my fluid covered pillow, helplessly trying to move. The suited man from before hovers over me, hoisting me up haphazardly, throwing me over his shoulder. He jumps out my window and scrambles through the parking lot and the thicket of the nearby forest. Somniferous fluid pumps through my veins, and I fall asleep. -- Squish. Squish. Rustle. A vertical cushion surrounds my body when I wake up. Binds of tendons hold me to the soft, warm surface. I try to rub my eyes open, but find myself unable to move my arms. Shaking the sleep from my head, hundreds of wriggling and contorted bodies surround me. My skin has turned into a deeper shade of shiny crimson and the wounds have turned into nothing but bloody holes with hard roots that dig into the wall of writhing humans. All of the carcasses are moaning in agony and reaching out to other nearby bodies. I look up, seeing a crevasse of dim light poking up from the ceiling. “Somebody help us!” I shout. Through the groaning, I can hear an argument from far away. I grit my teeth trying to pull away from the wall of shimmering red and maroon, only to be sucked back into place. Wounds pressed against other bodies have formed bloody roots, grafting me in place with the others. The longer I stare at those bodies, the more my body pumps with fury. I don’t give a shit where the hell I am, but I know that I will get out. If I don’t, my final moments must involve me putting up a fight and getting to the bottom of this shenanigan. Twisting my neck to my right side, I chew away the muscular restraints at my shoulders, holding the wriggling tumors in the backs of my lips. My tongue accidentally touches one of the tendrils. I yelp in shock. Those cankerous masses matched the taste of the lunchmeat to a T. “Was I fed fucking diseased human meat yesterday?!” I think to myself. Spitting out the nasty remains, I purse my lips before taking another chomp at the flesh vines, working my way down the shoulder to the upper arm. When my dominant hand is freed, I claw out the other hand from the wall of wailing bodies. My prison of flesh starts to crackle as I try to squirm away from it. After that, I grab on to a panicking man’s arms, wrenching my legs free. Desperate conglomerates of skin and bones begin to surround me. “Get your hands off! I promise I will bring someone if I make it out alive!” I shout, pulling them off, but making sure I don’t injure them. Upon stating those words, the rest of the bodies retreat from me. “Hey, did you hear that?” “What’s going on over there?” I gasp, blending back in and mimicking the cries of the others. From the corner of my eyes, there are two black suited men peering over the edge. Someone in the red abyss lunges at one of the men. “BACK OFF!” he bellows, firing warning shots into the air. The bodies retreat back into the crevice. His right-hand man turns his head to the first guy. “You think we’re just hearing things?” He says. “Yeah.” I wait a few minutes after the workers have gone and then squirm my way through the cavern of maroon tusks, tendrils, and tentacles. My hands touch the concrete edges of the ravine, and I crouch down. After giving two good surveys of the area, I bring myself back up. Looking up, there are rows of blinking fluorescent light bulbs hanging from a ceiling around a hundred feet tall. The darkness is so thick that the bulbs neither light up the floor nor my line of sight. Still wary, I bring my head back down. I circle the ravine path formations counterclockwise and try to make out what their shapes mean. Towards the end of the path is a crypt around twenty feet wide and hundreds of feet long. Dug deep into the sides are ridges an unknown depth deep, evenly spaced. Another group of flesh paths surrounds the other side of the fissures. I take a few steps back, trying to grasp the bigger picture of the fissures. The paths were in the shape of hideous butterfly wings and the crypt was shaped like an insect’s main body. Those humans were used to make a mold. Shifting my head around, I find a microscopic speck of light hanging far away, resting right on the horizon. The exit. Random, staccato, alien-like clicking reflects off the walls from the direction of my escape route. I put my hands close together, right where my chest is. Taking another deep breath, I put out my fists in a fighting stance, creeping through the darkness. My eyes slide around in their sockets as I search for anything to take cover behind. For several hundreds of feet, I can’t find anything. A tingling electrocutes my spine when I hear more inexplicable clicking. It didn’t take me long to figure out that there was a something inside this chamber. Glass containment vats suddenly come into focus from my left side. The strange vats were filled with more floundering, twitching, and moaning humans. At the bottom is a sloped cement slab next to a conveyor belt. Guillotine-like devices lie where the first part of the conveyor belt is. Towards the end of the path is a series of circular cookie cutter punches. Right below are dozens of smuggled lunch boxes. Running up for a look, I pick up one of them, right at the nearest vat. “What the fuck…” I mouth. My supervisor’s name was written on the lunch box. Whirrrrrrrrr… A trapdoor in the ceiling opens, revealing a stack of blood coated motorized sawblades. The unfortunate souls in the vat scream in horror as it drops down into the container’s top. I shut my eyes. Whirrrrrrrrr… Hot tsunamis of viscera, cutaneous horns, and tendons rain from the top of the vat and cover my skin. In five seconds, the blades make it to the bottom of the vat, retracting back into the ceiling with the dripping and inactive motors. I reopen my eyes, scrubbing off the coat of blood off my skin. My hand catches onto one of the skin horns, cutting it open a bit. Wincing, I flick my wrist around to sooth it. SHING! SPLAT! Sections of meat are chopped apart in front of the mouth, preparing to be dropped into the hodge podge of lunch bins. My eyes meet with the putrid slurry of ground up humans. Without a second thought, I shove the lunch boxes away, grabbing my supervisor’s lunch box and a random coworker’s. If I tell him about this place, he is certain to believe me based on the wounds; but I might need a pièce de resistance or two to back up my story. Rhythmic clicking echoes through the chambers of steel. Giving another look at the exit, I stick my eyes at the ceiling. I glance back at the chambers of writhing humans. Even if I can’t save the bodies in the butterfly mold, I must save those in the tanks. I fish out my supervisor’s metal water bottle, sprint up to next closest tank and crash it against the glass. It doesn’t budge. “So much for Plan A…” I grumble. A cold sweat forms on my chest as two guards detect the sudden clanging, yanking out their pistols. I scramble back into the depths until I can’t see the guards, next changing my path back to my target. I fight the urge to turn back as the same alien clicking enters my ears. Pumping my arms, I pierce through the shadows. In the distance, I hear the chatter of two unseen guards right where the northernmost wall is. “The Falena wants her metamorphosis to begin by nightfall tomorrow! If those wings are not complete, we’re worm food,” one whimpers. “Chill out 461225! The routine is simple: all we do is break into those idiots’ houses, take their lunch boxes, fill it with the goods, and place it back right where they were. After this shift, we should have enough to finish the membrane. Besides, the mine is closed for another six hours, so we have time to fuck around and prepare for phase 2.” “How did we get into this mess in the first place 655321?” “As far as I’m concerned, CEO Shitwhistle decided ‘this looks like a great spot to mine’ and intruded on the Falena’s home. In exchange for his survival and use of the mines, he has to sample living flesh in order for her to transform. This leads to him hiring us to go after the best target for this task: the mine workers. Eventually, when the wings are complete, the Falena will be able to fly away and find a new home away from human territory.” I scratch my head at the phrase “Falena.” Darting back into the abyss, I watch the exit grow closer until a mountain of moving and jiggling blubber blocks my path. With a few steps back, I try to analyze what exactly was in front of me. Concealed in the inky air is a beast made out of rows and rows of sagging and fatty arms and legs. In between each of the bulbous toes and fingers are claws as large as scythe blades that scrape against the floor. Its body consists of layers of rolls of pulsating and rotund flesh like a skin-colored layer cake tipped on its side. Matted and twisted hair drapes from its spine to its thighs. Its fat pulses down its segments as it moves. For a moment, its flesh keeps pulsing until it abruptly stops. A face shape appears from the darkness. As it grows closer, my nerves seize up in terror. The beast’s face was that of a beyond overweight human woman’s. Its small insectoid eyes were nearly covered by wrinkly and hideous flab. Cheek flesh droops down in more layers like the vertical gills of fish. Sweat trickles down from the gaps between its blubber. Poking from between the scabbed lips is a rostrum resembling that of a hornet’s beak. The moment it looks at me, I run straight for the exit. A shriek from the revolting grub makes my blood drop to my feet. It charges right behind me with all its legs moving in perfect harmony. Several guards spot me trying to escape. They yank out their pistols, barrels blazing and smoke filling the room. “Eat her, Falena. She isn’t worth the trouble,” A guard says. The beast drops its neck down, taking a snap and missing my leg. Furious, it makes a leap, slashing at me with its glyceride coated claws. Darting bullets shoot past me, whizzing by my head and torso. One of the bullets hits my lower shin and I kneel in agony. The Falena takes another chomp at me. As fast as my injured leg could carry me, I dive under the titanic larva’s arm pits, missing the legs before they could flatten me, and back away from the carnivorous caterpillar’s hungry jaws. I take the two lunch boxes, slipping their handles on my arm as if they were sleeves. Four more guards storm in from behind, firing between the gaps of the monster’s limbs and missing as I stealthily weave between them. While the caterpillar attempts to shake me off its underside, I glance at the door. Two guards slam the door shut with clang, twisting the tumbling mechanism shut. I pound a fist at my knee in frustration. As more ammunition clinks against the ground, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The moment when most of the guards have stopped to reload, I get down from my safe haven, quickly sliding down the arm. Sensing me, the creature tries to throw me to the ground and makes several more slashes at me. All of them miss. With every bit of strength I have, I force myself into a sprint, screaming as my injured leg throbs. More guards unleash a nest of flying metal. One bullet digs into my other leg, making me trip. The Falena tries to take another chomp at both of my injured legs. I limp away before its beak could close on one of them. My hands touch the thick turning mechanism. Grunting in anger, I try to twist it open. I turn around as more bullets aim for me. Surprisingly, I am able to force the locking wheel to twist. Sweat pools down my forehead. The Falena ends up smacking me away from the mechanism, the floor grinding away the skin from my back. Snarling, I get back up, continuing to limp to the door. Three guards block it and I immediately punch one in the face. I take the agent’s gun and fire it at the other two before returning to work on the door. The dangerous grub takes several more snaps. For a few seconds, I scare it off by firing the gun at its face. With a fortunate opening in place, I finally force open the door, shutting it just as the Falena was able to shake off its stunned state. “GO BACK TO YOUR EGG, DIPSHIT!” I yell. From behind the door, the mine quakes with the rage of the beast. I shut my eyes in relief for a small breather. Turning around, I give one last look at the door before waddling out of the mineshaft. Several new paths have been tunneled into the mineshaft walls. Right next to one of these tunnels is my deactivated robot. Groups of suited men grab metal boxes from a forklift and carry them into the brand new corridor of stone. -- In the darkness, my eyes catch a glimpse of an old phone right where the supervisor’s tower was. I ascend the ladder and dial 911, telling them every last bit of information about this scheme. After spilling out everything, I press my back against a railing, close my eyes again, satisfied at my accomplishment. Even if I die from my illness, I can at least be in peace now. CRASH! The doors to the vault whip open and groups of black suited agents fire their weapons at the guard tower. I skitter away from the railing, throwing the only exit trapdoor shut. My eyes take notice of a box of mining equipment, which I set over the hatch. Aerodynamic metal pellets bounce off the steel platform. I press my hands on the crate for extra weight. Rushing down below are guards ascending the nearest ladder. Then, the Falena breaks through the mineshaft passageway, hissing with fury. Its hands secrete a yellow substance. It lowers itself to the ground like guerrilla fighter hiding in shrubbery and brush. I hide behind the box hoping I’m not detected. Bullets stick themselves into the wood as guards continue to fire at me. I gasp when the bulbous grub grips the wall face, ascending it in a sluggish and pulsating manner. It grips the ledge of a bridge leading into another cave. The tower tips over and sends the box flying. Floods of guards continue to fire. Out of dumb luck, a segment of the bridge is still connected to the cave. An exit sign hovers deep into the cave. I furrow my brow. Like a child swinging across monkey bars, I pull myself up and swing over to another set. Due to the blood on my hands coagulating, I can grip myself easily. A stray bullet hits my foot. My grip loosens up as pain shoots through my body, but I readjust it and begin pulling myself, trying to gain momentum in order to make it to the end of the cave. The Falena takes a swipe at my legs and misses. It tries to reach me as I step further back in the cave, misses and plummets to the ground under the weight of its flesh. I peer down at the carnivorous caterpillar, noticing shouting way off into the distance. The Falena reapplies a layer of sticky fluid to its hands, crawling up one last time. Then, groups of police officers storm in, weapons loaded. The Falena screeches in horror at the parade of metal bits. It tries to slash at their riot shields without success. Ten more officers swarm in with M16s, continuing to finish off the caterpillar. Through the folds in its fat, it begins to leak out jaundice yellow grease and clear fluid. As the dying Falena flails around aimlessly, it folds back, and peels off the wall like paint in thinner. When the caterpillar is out of sight, I give a light smile. My legs grow weak and I give an exhale of exhaustion and accomplishment. A wary officer breaks my fall before my limp body can collide with the ground. ​ FIVE DAYS LATER ​ When I woke up from a long coma, I see a foggy image of my fiancé holding my hand. He parts his slick black hair back and looks into my eyes as I slowly open them up. “Fabio?” I croak, rubbing my head sleepily. He looks at the doctors with delight, tears streaming down his cheeks. “The treatment worked…IT FUCKING WORKED!” He hollers with ecstasy. A doctor puts a finger to her lips. I pull my hand away from Fabio’s grasp. The sores were gone. My skin color had returned to a light apricot grey. Not a single scar was left behind. I gasp in awe before a smile forms on my face as well. “Nicole…” he whispers, embracing me in a hug. His warm tears coat the shoulder of my hospital gown. I rest my head against the saddle between his neck and shoulder. “We can finally get married!” ​ TWO DAYS LATER ​ After the wedding ceremony, I see everyone begin to prepare food for the following reception, including a wedding cake high enough to rival Mount Everest and a chocolate fountain rich enough to make one develop diabetes just by whiffing it. I turn my head to my husband, watching him goof around with his buddies. “Hey best man, Dave!” My husband shouts, aiming a champagne bottle like a rifle. A shit-eating grin is plastered on his face and his tongue is hanging out like an excited dog. “What are you doing, Fabio?” He says suspiciously. “Aiming to please the crowd, boy!” He opens up the bottle of champagne, sending the cork flying right into the face of the best man. Everyone starts laughing as Dave grabs another bottle of champagne, marching over to Fabio. He unscrews it and pours it on my husband’s tuxedo. “Suit yourself!” Dave says, playfully teasing him. The laughter of the audience only grows louder. I turn my head back towards the buffet table, eyeing a massive slab of meat on a doner kabob. My eyes widen when I see the distinct multicolored chunks that were in the tainted lunch meat the other day. I gasp, sprinting over and shoving the kabob on the ground. “NO, NO, DON’T EAT THAT!!!” The kabob splats onto the floor, spilling broth everywhere like a capsized oil tanker. I sigh with relief when the kabob is disposed of. A fresh one is brought out. Thankfully, it doesn’t have the tainted meat on it. Fabio rubs my back to reduce my stress. His hands rise and fall with my hyperventilating. The guests grow silent. I put my hand to my eyes and shake my head. “Nicole, is everything alright?” He says. “You look ill.” “That condition really did a number on me. It’s painful to remember. I just need some air.” I give him a smile. He smiles back and gives me a kiss on the cheek. As I step outside of the ballroom, a man in a black suit goes into hiding behind the chapel, signaling his comrades to follow behind. I put my hand to my forehead to get a better look. One of the guards gives an “I’m watching you” gesture to me, dropping a message on the ground before running off. I waddle over in my bulky wedding dress and read the message. “We’re still in debt to the others.” submitted by /u/TheBlackCycloneOrder to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

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Howdy all, Sorry about missing the January contest...there are a TON of prizes up for grabs to make up for it. Thank you for your patience during the changes around these parts. That being said...LET'S DO THIS!!!!!! Submit photos of yourself or nominate others. Submissions should be top level replies. Contest Categories: (each submission will be entered into all eligible categories unless otherwise specified) Best Beard Biggest Beard Best Moustache Biggest Moustache Contest Calendar: Submissions will be accepted in this post until March 15th 11pm EST. Category specific posts will be created on the 16th of March for voting. Final results will be announced within 24 hours of the end of the month. General Information: /r/Beards & /r/Moustache have joined forces and the contest now runs concurrently on both subreddits. Prizes: Thank you to our AWESOME vendors who stepped up and donated some awesome stuff. Be sure to show them some love. Best Beard: A choice of beard oil, beard wash, or beard softener from BeardBrand, a choice of beard oil from A Beard Shop, and a Beard Care Kit from Smoky Mountain Beard Co Biggest Beard: A choice of beard oil, beard wash, or beard softener from BeardBrand, a Beard Care Kit from Smoky Mountain Beard Co, and a Big Beard Comb + Choice of balm from Texas Beard Company Best Moustache: A bottle of Blank Canvas beard oil from Alexandria Beard Co, a bottle of beard oil from The Los Angeles Shaving Soap Company, and mini mustache scissors with comb from Black Label Beard Biggest Moustache: A bottle of Classic Woodsman beard oil from Alexandria Beard Co, a bottle of beard oil from The Los Angeles Shaving Soap Company, and a choice of moustache wax from Black Label Beard Whoever gets the highest total upvotes also gets a manly skin care package from RSVP Skin Care For Men Bearddit Flair is awarded to the winner of each category. Click here to view the flair legend NEW RULE: Only one prize package per person. You can still win multiple categories, but will have to pick the prize package you most want, with the remaing prize packages going to the runner-ups in the other categories you won. NEW - Submission Format Requirements: With the growth of the contest, it's taking longer and longer to prepare the voting threads. In an effort to speed up the process, all submissions must use the following format: your user name | photo 2 | photo 3 Please limit your photo submissions to a maximum of 3 photos per contestant. Previous winners are encouraged to enter again. More detailed information regarding the contest can be found here . Questions or concerns should be directed to /u/BennyAdeline or the /r/beards modteam. submitted by /u/officialbearddit to r/beards [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/rousseaux to r/todayilearned [link] [comments]

Back in early January I ran across this subreddit and became intrigued. I'm a 31 year old self employed network administrator living in Texas. I've had acne ever since I was in 6th grade and for some reason it took me this long to start feeling pathetic about it. I've always used Stridex pads which kept my acne in the moderate realm rather than severe. Shaving was always a problem for me because of the zits and my general discontent for it led to me basically looking like shit all the time. You guys appealed to my sense of reason, by explaining that the lift-and-cut action of multiblade razors was a common source of skin problems I realized that using a multiblade razor on my minefield of a face was probably the worst thing I could have been doing. I was ready to try anything and had some Christmas cash so I bought a kit which you can see here. Since then I've tried many things and acquired many new products, which I will discuss in a bit. My stuff took a week or so to arrive. I spent that week immersing myself in WE posts. I read hundreds of posts, watched loads of youtube videos and spent hours looking through products on all of the various shaving sites out there. I felt like I knew enough to get through the first shave without killing myself and I was very, very exited. When I received my brush and soap I started experementing with lathering, trying to built the ideal lather. I was still waiting on my razor so I just played around with soap and lather for a few days. When my DE89 finally showed up I couldn't wait to give it a try. I had my first shave that night. I posted the results the next day so I'll quote my experience here to show my perspective at the time. I went twice WTG and then made a third pass XTG, lathering in between passes. It was very enjoyable, the only time I felt a tug was on the very first stroke. After slightly correcting my angle it was a totally smooth and easy shave. I was very surprised at how natural the razor felt in my hand an how easily it slid across my face. I had a hard time getting the concept of simply turning the razor around rather than rinsing off after every few strokes, and wasn't very efficient in that regard but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. When it was all over I didn't have a single nick or cut and my face felt fantastic, more than 24 hours later and I haven't had any irritation which is an apparent improvement over my old shaving regimen. I wiped my beard area with the alum block, which really cooled me down and just felt amazing, then rinsed. It was very enjoyable and the results were pretty good. I didn't get the closest shave ever on and under my chin but I was focusing more on getting the feel for the razor and not so much worried about stubble on a Saturday. On my cheeks, it's the closest shave I've ever had in my life by a huge margin. I must have gotten lucky, because that was the best shave I'd have for a couple of weeks. I was hooked after the first shave because I really enjoyed the ritual. I loved the smell of the TOBS Sandelwood on my face after a nice long shower. My second shave was my first ATG attempt. I definitely should have waited a bit longer to try ATG, things really started going downhill from that point on. I was simply not deft enough with my razor to be doing such advanced maneuvers and I really had not considered the grain of my beard enough and did not know my face like I should have. Unfortunately, the second shave was so smooth because of the ATG passes that there was no way I was going back. I started greatly considering the direction of beard growth, which turned out to be pretty well manageable as long as I made sure to do my first XTG pass starting at the chin and moving outwards towards the ear on each side. Doing it this way kept me from attacking the hair on my right cheek from a weird angle that constantly led to razor burn. Also, the lower part of my neck grew opposite of the rest of my neck, which was easy enough to accomidate. So at this point I'm hopelessly addicted to being BBS and was still getting razorburn in search of this. I continued my journey through my sample pack of blades and had settled on the Astra Super Platinum and was following Leisureguy's advice, using them exclusively. I also started ordering different products, one of them being MR GLO. MR GLO does not work for me, apparently the lime irritates my skin which led to a nightmare of a shave. I should have stopped, but I was shave-mad and kept going despite the irritation. I spent the whole weekend with blistered and burned skin which hurt like hell. I definately learned my lesson with that one: If something seems wrong, STOP! I gave myself a few days to heal up and then I was back on the horse. I replaced the MR GLO with the Proraso pre-shave bar which did not give me irritation and my shaves started getting better. I still gave myself razor burn regularly in small spots. It was not particularly painful or unsightly but showed me flaws in my technique (or lack thereof) that needed fixing. At this point, my skin was starting to get a little better and I was using alum every morning and night on my whole face after cleansing with the Stridex pads. The production of new acne was slowing a bit but the parts of my skin that did not have acne were starting to look very nice and healthy. There was a week there where I was getting horrible razor burn all over my face and the only thing I could really do to make it stop was switch blades. I guess my skin made some kind of fundamental change that made it no longer compatible with Astras, so I tried a Feather. This changed everything. As a matter of fact, I'm about 10 shaves in with the Feather blades and have yet to experience any razor burn at all, nicking has never really been a problem for me and this has remained so despite my use of Feather blades. I'm sure it's more likely a combination of the new blade and improving skills and not so much the blade itself, but my switch to Feathers was a pivotal moment. So lets fast forward to Today. My typical shave starts off with a nice hot shower while my brush soaks in hot water. I get out, and lather up the proraso pre-shave soap and partially rinse. I then lather up either some Mitchell's Wool Fat or some TOBS sandlewood. I do a WTG pass, two XTG in different directions, and an ATG. I then perform spot buffing using Jack Black's Beard Lube as oil to get all the spots that my normal passes just can't seem to cut clean (this stuff works extremely well for this purpose). Warm water rinse then a cold water rinse. I then rub an alum block all over my beard area (which doesn't produce much burn at all these days) and rinse off my brush and razor for about 30 seconds. Then I rinse again with cold water, dry off and apply some Captain's Choice Bay Rum which smells amazing and burns so good. Presto, I'm ready for my day and my face is smooth and feels wonderful. I then spend the rest of the day facesturbating. What about my acne? Well I'm pleased to report that for my last 3 shaves, I've been able to shave my entire face without having to dodge any acne because there is absolutely no acne left to dodge. DE shaving was not the cure, but it was the catalyst for a complete change in my personal hygene. I started using a cleanser from Anthony Logistics that contains Salycilic Acid, applying it to my face every morning and night with a mid-day wash with some clinique soap for men with oily skin. I've completely given up on the Stridex because it wasn't very effective and dried my skin out much more than the new cleanser. Also, I've been sleeping with a clean bar towel on my pillow every night and immediately noticed that my skin was not oily in the morning anymore. The cleanser started showing results after a few days, exfoliating my face (and lips, be careful with this stuff) which was a bit unexpected but totally painless. Since then I simply haven't had any new zits. I pretty much became and still am obsessed with having a clear face, and I've come a very long way in a very short time. I have proof that I can beat acne if I keep working hard at it and I intend to do just that. I'm completely hooked on my wet shaving ritual and will never go back to the goo. I'm also getting the itch to try a straight, and I'm sure it won't be long before I do just that. I owe it all to you guys! I've consulted you many times during all of this and you've been nothing but helpful at every turn. I'm constantly referring back to Leisureguy's book, which was a wonderful read that answered a ton of my questions before I even had to ask them. Mantic59 and Betelgeux' videos were an invaluable resource that every new DE shaver should watch repeatedly. You guys have been my biggest influence. I thank you all! I still have a long way to go, and I'm not sure I'll ever fully be the master of my face, but I'm a hell of a lot better off than I was a month ago, and I'm a much happier person thanks to Wicked_Edge! TL;DR Newbie wetshaver with lifelong acne now has clear skin and a smooth-ass face after a month and some change, facesturbates feverously. EDIT: Edits everywhere, I'm not much for proofreading. I added the name of the cleanser and reworded a part that might have made it sound like the cleanser made my face melt off. submitted by /u/Araya213 to r/wicked_edge [link] [comments]