u/PeachyFairyFox

My favourite lipstick of all time now smells like play dough or crayon.

Are the results saying it's now rancid actually true?

Or is it fear mongering meant to sell more lipstick by getting you to throw it out?

I read that the smell is the break down of wax and oils and not related to bacteria.

The lipstick is a colourpop luxe formula which is no longer made and I have failed to find any dupes for the colour (blue tinted cool tone baby pink).

There is no visible mould, no wax bloom, no sweating, grit or discoloration. Always stored in a dry and cool space. It is roughly 4 years old.

Is it actually rancid and unsafe to use?

Seriously, no matter how desperate you are, anything else would be better than risking the Bullet Express. I understand that you don't know me, and have no reason to take my word for it, so let me explain. Hopefully you hear me out and don't end up regretting it like I did.

I was visiting an unfamiliar city when my lyft got stuck in traffic, causing me to miss my Greyhound ride home. I was nervous and seeking out any alternative transportation, keenly aware of the encroaching evening. I didn't want to also be out the cost of an overpriced hotel on top of things. 

Not thinking clearly through the anxiety, I figured if I walked around, I'd eventually see some sort of public transit. I should have used my phone's GPS to navigate, but I had been trying to conserve battery, so I could use it on the long ride home. 

I became lost and felt panic setting in. Just when I was about to crack and pull out my phone, to my relief I saw a bullet train station. Without hesitation I rushed over, feeling a surge of hope, and unaware that I was making a huge mistake.

There was a speaker giving the final call for passengers when I called out to a woman who was boarding.

“Does this train pass through Baltimore?” I asked, nearly out of breath from running over.

She paused briefly, looking slightly annoyed, and said, “Yes. It passes through every major city in the USA.” Then she turned and continued up the steps.

At that moment, I should have realised that I had not ever heard of any type of bullet train with tracks that connected the USA, but I was on edge, a long way from home, and it was getting dark. I had heard what I needed to hear.

A man passed by me to enter and I asked, “Excuse me. Sorry. Where can I get a ticket? I don't see any booths.”

He didn't stop boarding or turn to me, but he said briskly, “There are no tickets.”

“Then do they take cards? Or is there an app?” I quickly called up to him as he was almost through the door.

I heard the engine starting when he replied, “Nothing like that. You just get on.” Then he went around the bend of the doorframe.

I heard the engine starting up and fearing the doors would close and I'd miss my chance, I practically ran up the steps.

The moment I passed the threshold, the doors snapped shut behind me and I felt a wave of dread, as if I had done something horribly wrong. I chalked it up to guilt, for getting on without paying. I tried to soothe myself by thinking it must be tax payer funded public transit. Unfortunately, the tightening in my chest did not subside.

The train began to move, so I staggered to a nearby empty seat and tried to get comfortable. The seats were cold, hard and leaning on the riveted wall was even worse, but at least I was moving in the direction of home.

I pulled out my phone and played some games for a bit. When I ran out of daily tasks to do, I switched to reading stories on reddit. The distraction helped me ignore the tense feeling in my gut, and things seemed to be going well when the speaker announced the Baltimore stop, instructing all who were exiting to move to the front of the train.

I scooped up my bag and made my way there. It did cross my mind that it was strange I wasn't just leaving through the same side door I came in, but maybe it was a safety thing and the doors only opened to let people in. My flawed thoughts were pushed to the back of mind, which was currently focused on thoughts of getting home.

I passed by other people who were slumped in their seats, all looking miserable, like they were deeply depressed, or even potentially ill. I hadn't looked up from my phone to notice before. Then an odd sensation overtook me when I realised I was the only one leaving. Despite the unnerving feeling, I attempted to convince myself that it was just because I happened to be the only one getting off at this stop.

My thoughts were interrupted when I reached the front of the train. That's when things took a turn for the worse.

There was a metal desk bolted to the floor at the end next to the exit door. Behind it sat an obese older woman and a huge man stood in front of the way out.

I was momentarily taken aback by the strange sight, but forced a polite smile and tried to leave. The stoic man relentlessly blocked the way.

He had to be an impossible 7 feet tall and was so thick his shoulders reached both sides of the door with legs like logs. 

“You forgot to sign your waiver.” The woman at the desk croaked, in that false happy voice that customer service people use when they actually want to tell you to die in a ditch.

Confused, I turned toward her. She had a smile that looked even more forced than the one I had given prior, and her teeth looked too thin, too narrow, and too long. 

She gestured a pudgy, wrinkled hand, with uncomfortably long red nails, to a neat and tidy pile of papers in a tin letter tray. A cup of ballpoint pens was nearby.

She waited silently, holding that faux grin while the man's eyes bored into my back.

The whole thing was weird but I just wanted to get away from them, so I reached for a piece of paper. Maybe there was some kind of ordinance I  hadn't heard of passing that required this.

I read, “In order to exit the Bullet Express, you agree to let us do whatever we want to you as payment for riding. We will not tell you what we plan to do before you sign. You will find out when it happens after.” Below that was a line with space for a name. 

“Absolutely not.” I put the paper back on the stack. “I won't sign this.” I said firmly.

“Then you won't leave.” The woman's voice gurgled as she calmly smiled back, as if she's been through this many times. 

I looked back at the man, testing my chances of getting past him through force. The longer I sized him up, the more I found…wrong with him.

His skin was puffy, yet taunt, like it was being pushed to max capacity by what was underneath. Yet it was all bunched up and creased in odd places, like clothing fabric does when worn. The woman's skin looked the same.

Then I noticed that neither of them blinked, even though their eyes looked rheumy. They looked a bit ashen, too. Although, the woman wore heavy makeup that was almost clownish.

Neither of them said a word or made a move while I looked back and forth between them and they stared back at me intensely. 

Annoyed and defeated, I walked back to my seat. I felt a wash of helplessness as the train moved away from my stop.

I was uncomfortable, grimy, hungry, thirsty, foot sore, and tired. And I was now going the opposite direction of my home.

This sort of situation makes you start to negotiate with your rational mind. I thought maybe I should just sign. Perhaps what they planned to do wasn't so bad. It could even turn out to be some social experiment, or a prank.

Despite my bartering, that feeling of danger was stronger than ever.

I considered the windows, but they were abnormally narrow and the glass was thicker than it should have been, bolted down with rivets. I considered trying to break the door, but it opened inward, so that wouldn’t work. Then I thought I might be able to push someone aside when they entered, but then I rememebred that I had gotten on the last call train. No more passengers were going to be getting on all night. 

I needed more information. I decided to go back to the desk and wait for another person to sign, so see what happens to them. 

This time I looked more closely at the other passengers. Some of them had clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days. A few looked skeletal, like they were actively starving to death, and one especially dehydrated man, who I previously thought was asleep, I was now certain was dead. That would be me if I didn’t get off this train.

As I lingered there tensely, the bloated man and woman stared me down with what I could only describe as malevolence. I looked at the floor to avoid their gazes, and I saw something thin and knobby, like a snake skeleton covered in amphibian skin, slitter quickly under the table and vanish beneath the woman’s skirt. I looked up with a jolt and saw something of similar shape abruptly stop wriggling beneath the skin on the man’s face, as if it knew I was looking.

The speaker's voice broke through the tension, announcing the next stop, and inviting those who wished to exit to the front of the train. I felt anticipation build in my chest and throat. This time, someone else walked up to the desk. A very sleep deprived looking woman. She didn’t speak or even glance at me. She wordlessly took a cheap plastic pen and signed her name on the line, quietly handing it to the woman. 

The one who was behind the desk moved in an awkward and uncanny way as she took it and stood. Her body jiggled, sagged, and bent in inexplicable directions, sometimes defying gravity and laws of motion. She smiled at the poor passenger and opened a door that was behind her desk that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. 

The large woman went in first and the one so skinny she looked near death’s doorstep followed. I tried to look inside but the door closed and the big man moved in front of it, glaring at me like he wished he could kill me. I strained my ears to hear anything coming from the room, but it was disconcertingly silent. After a moment, the door reopened and the man stepped aside, letting them out. The smaller woman was trembling and weeping softly, holding her head. 

As she made her way toward the exit, I urgently called out to her, “What happened? What did she do?”

“No…I can’t…” The petite woman cried and quickly fled down the stairs while the doors snapped shut behind her.

Before I could try to go after her, the man was already in front of the exit again, his hardened eyes daring me to make a break for it. I almost decided it might be worth it.

I leaned against the clammy wall as the train moved again, taking me even further away from home. I needed to figure something out before the next stop.

As the two of them seemed to smugly sneer over me, I devised a plan. It was held together by nothing but flimsy hope, but it was all I had and I was running out of time. I could feel the adrenaline building as I anticipated the next person, hoping that someone else would sign soon. 

The train coasted to a stop and the announcer made their spiel. No one came forward and I feared that I might be trapped like a prisoner on this train for who knows how long. Then, after several long minutes, a sorry looking passenger limped up to the desk, looking broken.

He signed his name over without ceremony or exchange of conversation. He dragged his feet into the room with the woman, and when the huge man moved to block the door, I made my reckless escape.

I have never moved so fast in my life, slamming into the exit door and falling out of the train car. Thankfully, I had noted that this door swung outward. Fearing the man might grab me, I didn’t even use the stairs, choosing to fall instead. I landed painfully into the concrete below, right on the edge of the loading platform. My eyes locked onto the electrified rails below, that I had narrowly missed landing on. Bruised and battered, I got to my feet as quickly as I could, in case the man came after me.

He only scowled down at me with sheer malice. Perhaps he wasn’t allowed to leave. Or even capable of it. I didn’t care the reason why, backing away into a metal wire bench and sinking into it while quivering.

The man who had just signed passed him by and limped down the steps, trodding unhurriedly toward the bench. He fell into it, looking drained and traumatised. 

The train door snapped shut and the Bullet Express sped away.

“What did they do to you?” I asked him, unable to contain my morbid curiosity.

He cleared his throat, swallowing down a lump as if trying not to weep, and said weakly, “They made me relive my worst memory, only they made every aspect of it so much worse.” He buried his hollow expression into his hands and did not speak again. 

I watched the last train car pass by and then realised I’d left my bag behind. Although there were some sentimental belongings there, I won’t be boarding the Bullet Express again.

Seriously, no matter how desperate you are, anything else would be better than risking the Bullet Express. I understand that you don't know me, and have no reason to take my word for it, so let me explain. Hopefully you hear me out and don't end up regretting it like I did.

I was visiting an unfamiliar city when my lyft got stuck in traffic, causing me to miss my Greyhound ride home. I was nervous and seeking out any alternative transportation, keenly aware of the encroaching evening. I didn't want to also be out the cost of an overpriced hotel on top of things. 

Not thinking clearly through the anxiety, I figured if I walked around, I'd eventually see some sort of public transit. I should have used my phone's GPS to navigate, but I had been trying to conserve battery, so I could use it on the long ride home. 

I became lost and felt panic setting in. Just when I was about to crack and pull out my phone, to my relief I saw a bullet train station. Without hesitation I rushed over, feeling a surge of hope, and unaware that I was making a huge mistake.

There was a speaker giving the final call for passengers when I called out to a woman who was boarding.

“Does this train pass through Baltimore?” I asked, nearly out of breath from running over.

She paused briefly, looking slightly annoyed, and said, “Yes. It passes through every major city in the USA.” Then she turned and continued up the steps.

At that moment, I should have realised that I had not ever heard of any type of bullet train with tracks that connected the USA, but I was on edge, a long way from home, and it was getting dark. I had heard what I needed to hear.

A man passed by me to enter and I asked, “Excuse me. Sorry. Where can I get a ticket? I don't see any booths.”

He didn't stop boarding or turn to me, but he said briskly, “There are no tickets.”

“Then do they take cards? Or is there an app?” I quickly called up to him as he was almost through the door.

I heard the engine starting when he replied, “Nothing like that. You just get on.” Then he went around the bend of the doorframe.

I heard the engine starting up and fearing the doors would close and I'd miss my chance, I practically ran up the steps.

The moment I passed the threshold, the doors snapped shut behind me and I felt a wave of dread, as if I had done something horribly wrong. I chalked it up to guilt, for getting on without paying. I tried to soothe myself by thinking it must be tax payer funded public transit. Unfortunately, the tightening in my chest did not subside.

The train began to move, so I staggered to a nearby empty seat and tried to get comfortable. The seats were cold, hard and leaning on the riveted wall was even worse, but at least I was moving in the direction of home.

I pulled out my phone and played some games for a bit. When I ran out of daily tasks to do, I switched to reading stories on reddit. The distraction helped me ignore the tense feeling in my gut, and things seemed to be going well when the speaker announced the Baltimore stop, instructing all who were exiting to move to the front of the train.

I scooped up my bag and made my way there. It did cross my mind that it was strange I wasn't just leaving through the same side door I came in, but maybe it was a safety thing and the doors only opened to let people in. My flawed thoughts were pushed to the back of mind, which was currently focused on thoughts of getting home.

I passed by other people who were slumped in their seats, all looking miserable, like they were deeply depressed, or even potentially ill. I hadn't looked up from my phone to notice before. Then an odd sensation overtook me when I realised I was the only one leaving. Despite the unnerving feeling, I attempted to convince myself that it was just because I happened to be the only one getting off at this stop.

My thoughts were interrupted when I reached the front of the train. That's when things took a turn for the worse.

There was a metal desk bolted to the floor at the end next to the exit door. Behind it sat an obese older woman and a huge man stood in front of the way out.

I was momentarily taken aback by the strange sight, but forced a polite smile and tried to leave. The stoic man relentlessly blocked the way.

He had to be an impossible 7 feet tall and was so thick his shoulders reached both sides of the door with legs like logs. 

“You forgot to sign your waiver.” The woman at the desk croaked, in that false happy voice that customer service people use when they actually want to tell you to die in a ditch.

Confused, I turned toward her. She had a smile that looked even more forced than the one I had given prior, and her teeth looked too thin, too narrow, and too long. 

She gestured a pudgy, wrinkled hand, with uncomfortably long red nails, to a neat and tidy pile of papers in a tin letter tray. A cup of ballpoint pens was nearby.

She waited silently, holding that faux grin while the man's eyes bored into my back.

The whole thing was weird but I just wanted to get away from them, so I reached for a piece of paper. Maybe there was some kind of ordinance I  hadn't heard of passing that required this.

I read, “In order to exit the Bullet Express, you agree to let us do whatever we want to you as payment for riding. We will not tell you what we plan to do before you sign. You will find out when it happens after.” Below that was a line with space for a name. 

“Absolutely not.” I put the paper back on the stack. “I won't sign this.” I said firmly.

“Then you won't leave.” The woman's voice gurgled as she calmly smiled back, as if she's been through this many times. 

I looked back at the man, testing my chances of getting past him through force. The longer I sized him up, the more I found…wrong with him.

His skin was puffy, yet taunt, like it was being pushed to max capacity by what was underneath. Yet it was all bunched up and creased in odd places, like clothing fabric does when worn. The woman's skin looked the same.

Then I noticed that neither of them blinked, even though their eyes looked rheumy. They looked a bit ashen, too. Although, the woman wore heavy makeup that was almost clownish.

Neither of them said a word or made a move while I looked back and forth between them and they stared back at me intensely. 

Annoyed and defeated, I walked back to my seat. I felt a wash of helplessness as the train moved away from my stop.

I was uncomfortable, grimy, hungry, thirsty, foot sore, and tired. And I was now going the opposite direction of my home.

This sort of situation makes you start to negotiate with your rational mind. I thought maybe I should just sign. Perhaps what they planned to do wasn't so bad. It could even turn out to be some social experiment, or a prank.

Despite my bartering, that feeling of danger was stronger than ever.

I needed more information. I decided to go back to the desk and wait for another person to sign, so see what happens to them. 

This time I looked more closely at the other passengers. Some of them had clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days. A few looked skeletal, like they were actively starving to death, and one especially dehydrated man, who I previously thought was asleep, I was now certain was dead. That would be me if I didn’t get off this train.

As I lingered there tensely, the bloated man and woman stared me down with what I could only describe as malevolence. I looked at the floor to avoid their gazes, and I saw something thin and knobby, like a snake skeleton covered in amphibian skin, slitter quickly under the table and vanish beneath the woman’s skirt. I looked up with a jolt and saw something of similar shape abruptly stop wriggling beneath the skin on the man’s face, as if it knew I was looking.

The speaker's voice broke through the tension, announcing the next stop, and inviting those who wished to exit to the front of the train. I felt anticipation build in my chest and throat. This time, someone else walked up to the desk. A very sleep deprived looking woman. She didn’t speak or even glance at me. She wordlessly took a cheap plastic pen and signed her name on the line, quietly handing it to the woman. 

The one who was behind the desk moved in an awkward and uncanny way as she took it and stood. Her body jiggled, sagged, and bent in inexplicable directions, sometimes defying gravity and laws of motion. She smiled at the poor passenger and opened a door that was behind her desk that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. 

The large woman went in first and the one so skinny she looked near death’s doorstep followed. I tried to look inside but the door closed and the big man moved in front of it, glaring at me like he wished he could kill me. I strained my ears to hear anything coming from the room, but it was disconcertingly silent. After a moment, the door reopened and the man stepped aside, letting them out. The smaller woman was trembling and weeping softly, holding her head. 

As she made her way toward the exit, I urgently called out to her, “What happened? What did she do?”

“No…I can’t…” The petite woman cried and quickly fled down the stairs while the doors snapped shut behind her.

Before I could try to go after her, the man was already in front of the exit again, his hardened eyes daring me to make a break for it. I almost decided it might be worth it.

I leaned against the clammy wall as the train moved again, taking me even further away from home. I needed to figure something out before the next stop.

As the two of them seemed to smugly sneer over me, I devised a plan. It was held together by nothing but flimsy hope, but it was all I had and I was running out of time. I could feel the adrenaline building as I anticipated the next person, hoping that someone else would sign soon. 

The train coasted to a stop and the announcer made their spiel. No one came forward and I feared that I might be trapped like a prisoner on this train for who knows how long. Then, after several long minutes, a sorry looking passenger limped up to the desk, looking broken.

He signed his name over without ceremony or exchange of conversation. He dragged his feet into the room with the woman, and when the huge man moved to block the door, I made my reckless escape.

I have never moved so fast in my life, slamming into the exit door and falling out of the train car. Fearing the man might grab me, I didn’t even use the stairs, choosing to fall instead. I landed painfully into the concrete below, right on the edge of the loading platform. My eyes locked onto the electrified rails below, that I had narrowly missed landing on. Bruised and battered, I got to my feet as quickly as I could, in case the man came after me.

He only scowled down at me with sheer malice. Perhaps he wasn’t allowed to leave. Or even capable of it. I didn’t care the reason why, backing away into a metal wire bench and sinking into it while quivering.

The man who had just signed passed him by and limped down the steps, trodding unhurriedly toward the bench. He fell into it, looking drained and traumatised. 

The train door snapped shut and the Bullet Express sped away.

“What did they do to you?” I asked him, unable to contain my morbid curiosity.

He cleared his throat, swallowing down a lump as if trying not to weep, and said weakly, “They made me relive my worst memory, only they made every aspect of it so much worse.” He buried his hollow expression into his hands and did not speak again. 

I watched the last train car pass by and then realised I’d left my bag behind. Although there were some sentimental belongings there, I won’t be boarding the Bullet Express again.

Edit: I'm not actually from Baltimore. I changed the name of my city, as per the rules.