hello i come to you today needing help. i was in a light bike accident today where i was partly at fault for turning into a car and him turning into me also. basically im coming along the road make a right hand turn after hand signalling and as im turning i realised he didn't notice me and kept turning to try reach the pavement where they then pulled out left and hit my back tire.
i said its my fault for not making it to pavement in time,there is no damage to my bike or his car and i know the driver.
what should i do? just leave it? cause im fine they are fine.
my only worry is that they lie to their insurance company with damages i simply didnt cause, as we both looked at the car at the time and there was even a scratch or dent.
more info i was barely going 5mph and well he just pulled out and turned left from a stop so he wasnt going fast either.
Location : scotland

Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

Moving to Buffalo
Moving to Buffalo
Hi all, I’m planning to move from Dallas,TX to Buffalo closer to the end of June. Can I get some advice on how I can move my stuff?
I call any moving company they say it’s gonna cost me approximately 2K to move everything from here. I even spoke with UPS/FEDEX for the estimate of just the important items( any I couldn’t fit in my luggage bags excluding all the furniture)that would sum up to 120LBS and the quote is 1.5K.
Could I get suggestions of affordable moving company names?
PS: I can’t drive.

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/ziYwev0
Album: https://imgur.com/a/o1cR79P
I have feedback on coffeeswap, watchexchange, Pen_Swap, mediaswap. Smoke free, child free home. I’d prefer to sell to an established/active reddit user.
Lego City: Airport Terminal (60104). IMO The best Lego Aircraft outside of the Concord. The current Airport Terminals + plane all look corny IMO.
Sealed box. Box is in acceptable to good condition with some marks/scratches. There's a dent/puncture on the bottom of the box (see photos). Price is adjusted to account for the damaged box.
Asking: $230 OUT THE DOOR via PayPal Goods & Services. Price includes shipping and PayPal fees.
25% OF YOUR MONEY GOES TO ANIMAL RESCUE (After shipping & PayPal Fees). If you take a look at my comments, you’ll see I’m very active with dog rescue (mostly in TX & CA where there’s high Euthanasia rates). I work with rescues to pledge money to help remove dogs from high kill shelters. I use my PayPal resources to fund this side-work, which mostly comes from the selling of some of my goods.

I (25f) am breaking up with my bf of 10 years. I have accepted that we are separating in fact (sometimes) I look forward to what’s ahead. We've been together since high school and he’s my first everything. I’ve grown comfortable with his presence and the thought of him not being there scares me. The break up is happening but here’s where I need help. I have two options, get an apartment in my hometown or move 10 hours away(to Dallas, TX) from everything I know. I’m terrified to move across the country. I don’t know what I’m trying to prove by moving. I’m playing around with the idea because now is the perfect time(no kids, no debt, no commitments, money saved). The future is already blurry to me since my high school sweetheart is no longer in the picture. So why not do something bold? Well lol other than being literally terrified. Anywho, a part of me wants a fresh start but I’m so overwhelmed at the thought of being alone in a new state with no car or family/friends. I’m also scared that I will get there and be too afraid to leave my apartment because I’m not used to doing things alone. All of it will be a huge adjustment. So am I to tackle singleness, a new environment, and whatever comes with this new life all at once? Or should I stay close to my family and learn to live/be alone where I’m more comfortable? My job has already approved the move (I can update this request) so yay! But I’m so close to backing out because of fear, anxiety, and the unknown. Any advice, encouragement, or similar experiences would be much appreciated

timestamps: https://imgur.com/a/Jrnifzh
Hello Reddit! I currently have too many keyboards and I am trying to get rid of some of them. Shipping to CONUS and Canada only. Please leave a comment before DMing.
Ciel65 burgundy with clear coated copper weight with cock on the outside - $200 USD shipped

• the cock is usually on the inside of the case but when the designer made some copper weights he decided to put the cock on the outside instead
  • the weight is also clearcoated to prevent oxidation
• forcebreak modded the weight to reduce ping
• no damage or scratches very good condition
• NOTE: despite the stabs being lubed, they still have some ticking or rattling
• will include:
  • stock 50a o ring
  • stock alu plate
  • custom cut pp plate
  • stock HS PCB
  • bakaneko65 solder pcb
  • lubed tx rev 3 stabs for the backspace and spacebar
  • lubed gateron screw in stabilizers for enter and left shift
  • stock brass weight (not coated)
  • preinstalled copper weight (clear coated)

Akko ACR 75 Pro - $100 USD shipped

• modified it to use poron gaskets instead of silicone gasket socks which gives it a softer feel
• added guides on the side of the case to prevent the plate from shifting around due to the poron gasket modification
• will include:
  • gasket socks and jackets
  • preinstalled PC plate with stock MX2A browns installed
  • extra aluminum plate
  • stock factory lubed plate mount akko stabs
  • preinstalled included tape mod
  • included usbc cable
  • included case, plate, and pe foam

Jake Rakes!

22 players— double ducks, quack-quack!— came out to roll the dice on Wednesday, including two new players, and two more returning for their second matches. Welcome… and welcome back!
Jake went on a tear, chewing through the competition on his way to victory in the Main (and leaping into the Top Ten in the process). Rich was his opponent, though, and making the climb meant he was able to add to his points total at the top of the table. Jeanette took the prize in the Overflow, and Bobby won an Overflow-Overflow in quickie-quickie fashion. The Constant Consolation Threat, Reza, bested Paul in yet another full bracket of players. It was a big night!
The League has 17 players who’ve passed the 100-point mark, and Rich is a hair’s breadth away from crossing 300.
The Dallas Backgammon League plays every Wednesday evening, with very few exceptions (e.g., falls on a major holiday) at the IHOP in Addison, TX, our home for over twenty years (see link to location map, below). Tournament registration opens at 7:00PM and the tournament itself starts at 7:30PM. Tournaments are played as five-point matches, no clocks, using modified USBGF rules. Tournament brackets include Main and Consolation, and rebuys are available when and while slots are available. All skill levels are welcome!
Find the new standings and other information here:
Standings: http://standings.dallasbackgammonleague.org
Website: http://dallasbackgammonleague.org
Location: http://location.dallasbackgammonleague.org/
Email List: http://mail.dallasbackgammonleague.org

We have a MEGATHREAD to discuss all things Bad Bunny and his ongoing Most Wanted Tour: Atlanta, GA!!
Any and all discussion welcome: if you have any questions about tonight's show (or any show), if you want to comment on the way there, post pics of the arena, livestream links, talk about your experience, his best performed song to you, anything - be sure to post here! All new posts about the shows on May 14th and 15th will be removed (with the exception of pics/videos post-show). If you're going, have fun responsibly! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🐰
This stop: Atlanta, GA Venue: State Farm Arena (doors open at 7pm local time) Afterparty: District, May 15th
There are NO OPENERS for this tour! TICKET RESALES ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THIS SUB AND WILL RESULT IN A 30-DAY BAN IF ATTEMPTED. Bad Bunny has typically gone on stage at/after 9pm local time.
Past/Current Shows Feb. 21: Salt Lake City Feb. 23rd and 24th: Las Vegas Feb. 27th and 28th: Phoenix, AZ March 1st and 2nd: San Francisco, CA March 5th: Sacramento, CA (featuring Feid as a guest) March 7th: Portland, OR March 9: Seattle, WA March 13th, 14th, and 15th: Los Angeles, CA (featuring Bryant Myers, Eladio Carrion, Mora as guests) March 20: Denver, CO March 23: Minneapolis, MN March 26: Kansas City, MO March 28th, 29th, and 30th: Chicago, IL (featuring Young Miko as a guest) April 4: Toronto, CAN April 6: Detroit, MI April 9: Washington, D.C. April 11th, 12th, and 13th: Brooklyn, NY (featuring Bryant Myers, Yovngchimi, Eladio Carrion and Mora as guests) April 17: Boston, MA April 19: Philadelphia, PA April 20: Hartford, CT April 22: Louisville, KY April 24: Tulsa, OK April 26th and 27th: Austin, TX April 30th and May 1st: Houston, TX (featuring Grupo Frontera as guests) May 3rd and 4th: Dallas, TX May 7: New Orleans, LA May 10: Charlotte, NC May 11: Nashville, TN May 14th and 15th: Atlanta, GA
***************************
Upcoming Shows May 17th and 18th: Orlando, FL May 21: Tampa, FL May 24th, 25th, and 26th: Miami, FL June 7th, 8th, and 9th: San Juan, PUERTO RICO 🇵🇷

We want to increase racial & ethnic representation in psychology research materials by creating a facial expression database of Black/African American and Hispanic/Latinx individuals.

Participation involves modeling different facial expressions in front of a camera.
Appointments take about 1.5 hours and will be held at the Center for Vital Longevity (1600 Viceroy Drive, Dallas, TX) in the Aging Well Lab.

Participants must be between 25-85 years of age and will receive $20/hr.
Travel reimbursement available at $0.625/mi up to $10.

If you’re interested in participating, follow this link to complete an eligibility questionnaire:https://redcap.link/diversity_eligibility.

We want to increase racial & ethnic representation in psychology research materials by creating a facial expression database of Black/African American and Hispanic/Latinx individuals.
Participation involves modeling different facial expressions in front of a camera.
Appointments take about 1.5 hours and will be held at the Center for Vital Longevity (1600 Viceroy Drive, Dallas, TX) in the Aging Well Lab.
Participants must be between 25-85 years of age and will receive $20/hr.
Travel reimbursement available at $0.625/mi up to $10.
If you’re interested in participating, follow this link to complete an eligibility questionnaire:https://redcap.link/diversity_eligibility.

Can someone explain to me specifically why this was removed, and how I’d be able to edit it without defeating the purpose of the entire story?
It was removed for breach of the “CORROBORATION/PROOF” rule, though after reviewing those terms, I don’t believe that I’ve broken them.
“A dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, a vision, a bout of sleep paralysis, is drunk and/or high, was in a coma or otherwise an altered state”— none of these are the reason behind my main character’s paranormal experience, and I’ve given no indication whatsoever in the story to suggest that they are.
In fact, I’ve outright denied the idea that my main character imagined her experience about as much as I possibly could for a story with a first person perspective.
The main character says “it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream,” in the second paragraph— a sentiment which she consistently attests to throughout the story, and a sentiment which is never walked back on or brought into question by the narrator.
My narrator was in a sound state of mind at the moment of her encounter, and is practical and methodical in her investigation of what happened. Any implication that she has become mentally unwell occurs long after the inciting incident which the story is built around.
I would like to respectfully request that this story be reevaluated. In the short time that it was active on nosleep, it clearly connected with people. If it cannot stand as is, then I need someone to help me make it fit the guidelines without defeating the entire purpose of the story and betraying its themes.
The nosleep subreddit is filled to the brim with stories in which the narrator’s words are taken at face value. When a narrator in a different story says “I walked to the store,” it’s not like the author HAS to give tactile, irrefutable evidence that the narrator actually walked to the store. The audience simply accepts that the narrator walked to the store. This concept of innate credibility is the bedrock upon which my entire story is built.
I do not believe my work would benefit from being altered to fit these guidelines as rigidly as possible, nor do I think that is a fair standard to hold it to. In fact, if I were to change the contents of my story in such a way, the themes which set it apart from others like it would be lost.
In short, I do not understand why my story was deleted, I do not know how to alter it to fit the guidelines beyond any shadow of a doubt without destroying its central purpose, and I refuse to believe that nosleep is not the right place for this work. I implore you to reconsider my submission, or to at least work with me to find a solution which keeps the story’s themes intact.
Here is my story:
I got grabbed
Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

Hey All,
Question for the group. I have 4 months left on a lease and have been looking around for the next vehicle. I have one (non vw) dealership that is offering me a really nice lease $$ for a vehicle that really fits my family. They are also including paying the rest of my lease off + the dep fee (so the 4 months + the $395 fee)
I called vw credit and was placed to someone in lease specialization who was great but the word "auction" comes into play. I talked to them twice and two different people and they both said the same thing but wanted to see if anyone else did it here.
She stated that if I return it 30 days before the last payment (I think it was payment vs last day) it would go to auction. The scary auction term was here haha. She stated though that I would owe the less between what the difference between the FMV vs. what is sells and the sum of the following 4 things:
1) Last 4 months payments ($1400)
2) Deposition Fee ($395)
3) Over Mileage (I'm under by a lot so won't pertain to me)
4) Inspection / Wear & Tear (I decided to schedule the inspection next week just to see what I would be looking at but there is nothing wrong with the car. No scratches, dents, stains, nothing)
So in the end, if 3 & 4 are $0, my worse case scenario would the $1795 I would owe correct? Even if say the car sells for 10k even though its valued at 18k? Has anyone else gone through the auction process? I just don't want to be caught with an 8k invoice from VW.
It's super confusing and even they were saying it is. In the end I might just hold onto it anyway since its a good lease price etc.

Somebody dinged my car at a parking lot and was looking to get it removed. Paint's fine and no scratches, was hoping to get recommendations on trusted and honest places that do paintless dent removal services.
Cheers and thanks in advance

Hey guys,
So I allowed a friend to practice driving with my car in a residential area, as they're trying to get their license. They have a learners permit as well. Sadly, they hit a parked car door while trying to make a wide right turn as they were trying to correct their turning, from turning right at a T junction.
Checked the damage and it looked like the car door paint was scratched up and a small dent. Luckily found the owner and explained the situation and we exchanged info and went our way. In the moment, I gave them my driver's license, even though I wasn't the one driving, and forgot to take a picture.
I'm planning to call MPI just to notify them also about the minor accident.
My question is what other things do I need to do in regards to this situation? I've never been in an accident, so not really sure what to do apart from report it. My driving record is sparkling clean, so also don't want to mess that up.
Thanks guys!

So I was involved in a hit n run where the other driver hit me. I was not at fault. They were. I’ve already filed a police report, but I’m a bit weary about reporting to my insurance because of my premium going up and am not sure if it might be reporting in the long run with the little coverage and small policies I have with them (I pay low cause I don’t make a lot of money) I wonder if it’s still worth to report? Pretty sure the other driver wasn’t insured (given they drove off) so not sure how that would affect me too in the long run.
I’m asking here right now because the accident just happened an hour ago and I still have I believe a 24 hour window to report to my insurance. Damage is all cosmetic and pretty minimal too if I had to be honest. Minor scratch/dent in the rear and I doubt that it’s gonna go over my deductible which is 2500. Might sound stupid but I feel like I won’t get much out of claiming asides from a higher premium and some medical coverage (back is feelin it).
Am I silly to think this way right now?
EDIT/UPDATE:
My policy (I’m in California (LA to be exact))
-Bodily Injury & Property Damage Liability: $15,000 each person/$30,000 each accident/$5,000 each accident -Uninsured/Underinsured Motorist: $15,000 each person/$30,000 each accident -Medical Payments: $5,000 each person -Uninsured Motorist Property Damage: No Coverage -Comprehensive: ? $1,000 deductible -Collision: $2,500 deductible -Uninsured Motorist Collision Deductible Waiver: $2,500 deductible waived -Rental Reimbursement: No Coverage -Roadside Assistance: No Coverage -Custom Parts and/or Equipment value: ® $0.00 -Loan/Lease Payoff: No Coverage
EDIT/UPDATE 2:
I’ve pretty much determined that given my high deductibles and barely qualifying policies that I won’t really get much out of my insurance claim asides from maybe some medical coverage which might be very well worth going for. As far as I can see, car is fully functional (gonna get it checked out anyways) and I’m only really seeing minor cosmetic damage and not convinced that it’s worth fixing given my current circumstances. But also, given that it was a hit and run and that I have their make, model, license plate #, and even VIN… I’m wondering if there’s anything else I should look into with my insurance? Or is it even worth pursuing litigation since I have all that information? I even have a witness. Haven’t been in this situation so just asking for some advice.