Like many others, I'm new to this game, and I can't remember the last time I had so much fun with a game.
Earlier this week, I discovered that Minerva was only available on weekends. Naturally, my anticipation grew as Minerva was the only vendor where I could spend my gold bouillon (haven't finished the Wastelanders quest and Vault 79 yet).
Anyway, the weekend comes around and I get the Gauss Minigun after googling "best heavy weapons" in about 20 different ways. I somehow find myself with enough legendary modules to craft one and roll it a few times.

• First roll: hot garbage (I think?)
• Second roll: medics roll or something
• Third and final roll: I hit Bloodied/Attack Speed/Reload Speed

Now, most of the time I don't even know if a roll is good or not but this strikes me as a good one for the Low life Heavy gunner build I'm running. If I wasn't hooked before, I sure am now.
Is this roll as good as I think it is? How would you mod it?

Hello,
I currently own a Jeep Wrangler Sahara Unlimited 2020 model and a Toyota Prado 2008 model.
Prado is the love of my life. 16 years now, but problems with transmission and Toyota’s inability to provide official assistance (they recommended going to a private garage) are compelling me to sell it.
Wrangler was fun but the entire car shakes and vibrates at high speeds and there’s something about it that just gives me red flag feelings in my gut that I’ll have problems in the future.
So I’m in the market for a new cacars but I’m very confused.
I definitely want an SUV. I’m a Dubai kid and climbing my vehicle onto anything I want, when I need to, is a must. High ground clearance is important, I don’t want to be damaging my underbody regularly.
I’m not a hardcore off-roader but I’m an enthusiastic road-tripper and aspiring off-roader. So on those spontaneous road-trip days to the mountains, the car should perform. Same for those twice a year desert trips and perhaps even if I start doing it more regularly with a group like the one here, to learn more.
Keeping that in mind, I do want a car that won’t let me down on the dunes, for which I’m guessing I should look for a combination of power and light weight. So what would that be?
Now it gets more interesting. I also like the idea of a truck. We’re enthusiastic interior designers, buying second hand furniture frequently and a truck bed would help us not have to shell out money on a Pathan pickup every time. But not sure what truck would tick the powerful, lightweight, good for off-road criteria?
We’re also a growing family so I want a crew cab with comfort on the inside, by which I mean:
Good leg room, fridge, cruise control, front side airbags, good safety features, wireless Apple car play, wireless charging would be a dream, leather seats, big sunroof.
So what’s a good off-road capable car, potentially a truck, that’s also comfortable on the inside, and does not break the bank?
Budget is not a big criteria, but I do want to be sensible and keep it as low as I can.
I’m aware it’s entirely possible that I want too many different kinds of things in one car, which may not be possible - but figured no harm in having a discussion.
I like Toyota for reliability and resale value. But Hilux GR Sport is unavailable now. (Was even considering new LC70 because it’s cool, but don’t think it’d be right and it’s unavailable too).
Other options are Nissan, Chevrolet, GMC, Ram, Ford.
Im open to Chinese cars but apprehensive about reliability, service and maintenance infrastructure (non-dealership garages not that established yet) and also resale value.
Finally, I’m wondering if I should sell both cars and buy two – One Hyundai Palisade type car that ticks all the family comfort boxes and another truck that ticks the off-road adventure capability and fun boxes.
Someone help me please! :) Thanks!

Explant and lift of 400 mL Mentor silicone. Today has been rough, and I have been having sneezing fits lol, which are very painful!! Zyrtec has not helped.
I honestly have a lot of mixed feelings so far. It took me 6 years to choose a surgeon and I traveled out of state. I had an overall good experience, and my nurses and the support staff was all wonderful, however, I wish my surgeon had taken more time to explain things to me as far as how things will look after and what she will do. I felt like everything was so rushed and I was given so much great pre and post op info, but not actual info about my procedure.
I have a list of questions to ask my surgeon on Monday. I haven't seen my breasts yet and am all wrapped up and I can't help but worry. I noticed that her markings were very high nipples on the OR and I asked about this and she said she would make them a little lower as I had stretch marks on the upper part of my breasts and I didn't want the areola to be in the stretch marks...I just feel like that stuff should have been talked about first. Not as I was about to get put to sleep! It just moved way too fast.
I'm grateful it's over, and just hoping that that is just her style and she has such beautiful before and after photos and many happy patients on the support groups so I'm trying to let go and say what's done is done and trust that she used her expertise to do the best job on me as possible and that I will be happy with the outcome.
I'm draining a lot on my first day and the pain and pressure is a lot. I know the first few days are usually the worst and I'm only 32 hours out from surgery. Happy to share any info and wishing health and fast healing to all the ladies going through this with me!!

*CONTAINS SWEARING*
This is gonna be a hefty and most likely triggering post for specific groups of people out there (meaning people who struggle with anger, people who don't want poltical content/opinions etc), so please stop reading and leave if you figure this is gonna be rough for you. This will (mainly) be about the conflict between Palestine and Israel. (and apparently a long one) No hate towards any specific groups of people, but I do have a lot of *frustration regarding behaviours*.
Before I start, I want you to remember some facts about me as you read;
I am autistic
I am heavily influenced by world peace, hate, racism and other unfair situations
I have incredibly high standards for myself that I strive to not break, including, but not limited to, being kind and respectful *always*, despite being in a bad mood, not liking someone, or disagreeing, especially political disagreements
I have always, and will always, stand against widespread hate, racism and other discrimination towards any specific religions, ethnicities, nationalities, cultures, etc.
I also want you to know that I named this throwaway accordingly.
So let's get this shitshow started then, shall we.
As the details of the conflict stands, it is beyond obvious to me that this is racism and, literally, a Holocaust. Not *the* Holocaust, but *a* Holocaust. Oxford Languages has the term defined as a destruction or slaughter on a mass scale, especially caused by fire or nuclear war . I'd say that's very much accurate. Proof to come.
Regardless, this situation has had me very pressed the last almost 8 months, as I know most other people have been too. Without getting too much into the conflict itself, I want to talk a little about what I've seen from the Jewish community.
This is where I advise anyone who struggles with anger especially to leave and try to keep your day positive. If you have a magical potion to stay stable after this, who am I to stop you...
Alright, onto the dreaded part. And yes, I am stalling.
I have never, and I truly mean *never* had any hateful thoughts or opinions about religions (other than Christianity but that's one for another time), and as we are all aware of, The Holocaust had massive effect on the world some 80 years ago. I have always seen Jews as victims due to this, but in recent times I've realised that a lot of them, too, see themselves as victims. The issue is that they aren't the victims right now. They (Israel) aren't defending themselves, they have nothing to defend themselves against. Israel is currently doing the exact same thing as Germany did to them, to Palestine. Sure, maybe at some point who knows when, Palestine *was* the land of Jews, but since then, multiple religions have been thriving together on that land, including Jews. They were never excluded. From what I've understood, there weren't any wars or conflicts going on within the country that didn't happen elsewhere. The issue began when in the late 1940's zionists brutally murdered families to steal their homes. I'm sure the situation was so much more complex than that, but in a nutshell that is basically it. The fact that everyone today have been so desensitized from the travesties happening around the world is depressing and hope-killing. I truly am well on the way to giving up, and at this point in time I'm so angry all the time due to the Middle East's situation.
So a few weeks ago, probably closing in on months at this point, I randomly got a notification from reddit about someone posting on /Jewish. They didn't say anything explicit, so I pressed the notification and I was met with the worst victimization and ignorance I've ever seen. I truly believed most jews would see this for what it is, and not let some racist maniac spoon-feed them propaganda and hate, but I was brutally and humbly proven wrong. They were mocking proPAL parades, hating on news anchors and civilians alike calling this a genocide, insisting that Israel has no other choice, saying "casualties happens in war", convincing each other that zionism is a good thing, and feeling sorry for themselves when friends and families cut contact because they said they supported Israel and saw this as the only solution. Some might have been genuine problems, idk, but for the most part, that subreddit seems to only be about hating the rest of the world because their great grandparents were killed. I know I sound like a complete asshole, but the world isn't antisemetic anymore - they are actively looking for it and then using that one person telling them to stop feeling so sorry for themselves as proof that everybody in the world wants to throw them back in gas chambers.
I commented on my personal once where I mentioned that judaism and zionism are two separate things and got downvoted to oblivion. Someone replied saying that my comment was very much exactly what they too feel, but I got downvoted *simply because* I referred to them as separate entities. That is another criticism they've recieved lately; the pure idea of zionism is on the complete opposite side from what Judaism stands for. I've seen so many of the members there calling Jews protesting against Israel "self-hating" and traitors.
I've also made so many replies that I never sent because I know for a fact they would do anything in their power to ban me from ever using reddit again, and I wouldn't be surprised if I got doxxed and harrassed IRL from it. I saved them all, though. I found that it was kind of therapeutic to get it out, but it still bugs me that I never found a way to say it to them. I once also made a post about my rage for their behaviour connected to this genocide, but I thankfully stopped myself before I posted it. I'm so enraged by their sheer ignorance and hypocritical behaviour, all the while Gaza is still being eradicated and slaughtered, war crimes happening day in-day out, inhumane atrocities by the IOF being posted and hailed, and they have the audacity to say that they are the victims? That Israel has no other choice but martyring tens of thousands of CHILDREN? Starving the entire Gaza Strip, segregating West Bank, literally teaching their young in school to hate and attack arabs? That last one might not be true as I don't speak Hebrew or Arabic, so anyone could've just made up the translation, but I still feel it's worth mentioning in case it actually *is* real.
My point is that the guts they have to claim to be so moral, yet still be so unfaced from what's happening in Gaza is beside me. Sure, for those living near the Gaza wall, I'm positive that hearing bombs and screams were traumatizing as fuck, but to then leave for work the next day and claim that "shit happens"? It's insane! It's inhumane. They can leave whenever they like, children can play football (soccer) in the streets and not having to worry about shit, hotels and restaurants with 5-star ratings thriving, plants and flowers still blooming, absolutely no threats on a daily basis. The fact that people are still calling this a war, something necessary, is beyond devastating to me. There are millions still siding with zionism, claiming there's nothing wrong with the belief that you have an innate right to some dirt simply because your holy book says that thousands of years ago, your religion lived there, and simply because of that religious fact you are rightfully owed thousands of young lives, the death of an entire country with its own culture, just to feed the irrational religious political system? How in God's name has that ever, *IS* that still okay? If Muslims were the ones saying that shit, they would've been completely destroyed by now, today's generation wouldn't know what the fuck Islam was. They are still being slaughtered though, because they're saying it's *not* okay. How is that not racist again?
My brother and I got into a heated argument a few days ago about this. I am very much *for* Palestine to have human rights and to own their own land - he is very much *against* "ugly blackies" having any rights because they're *not* human. Boi when I tell you I got so angry I started crying. And the worst part about that fight? He claims that Jews aren't any better, however they still deserve to defend themselves against children running on the beach. "But Hamas-" is so over-used and outdated by now, it just proves that he doesn't follow up on statistics and evidence. Even if there only were one-sided news (from Gaza), the fact that the ICJ ruled Israel's actions a genocide and war crimes still proves everything he claims to be "n*****'s propaganda". And the fact that he so underminds my autism and *need* for factual evidence before discussing it also goes to show that he genuinely does not care about anything other than the black "terrorists" being eradicated. I said "So you're not just a racist, you're just plain racist?" he just scoffed and looked at me as if I just said the most nonsensical bullshit gibberish ever, practically saying "I'm not gonna say anything, but it really took you that long to realise?" Either that, or he actually didn't comprehend the words coming out of my mouth, like it was a foreign language or something. Because he genuinely does not have a single reason to be racist.
He can't even blame suicide attacks because 1) not all are carried by muslims, and 2) between 1981-2015 around 45,000 were killed by suicide attacks worldwide, where in 2019 the total death toll was only 1,699 more than amount of attacks; whereas in Gaza, between Oct 7 to present there are about 34,000 confirmed palestinian deaths, and assumed around 42,000 with unconfirmed deaths. If, in 36 years, "muslim terrorism" killed about the same amount as Israel has in almost 8 months, how on earth are Arabs the terrorists?
And I've also seen the argument that 30,000 is nothing compared to the total population in Gaza, as if that makes it okay. I will, again, make example of The Holocaust. When 30,000 Jews were martyred, people were already catching on, and this was without the technology we have today.
How have we been allowing this to happen to Palestinians *with* our technology today? Why haven't people been doing more; striking our jobs, cummute chauffeurs striking, proper permanent boycotts, more coverage from news anchors and private people alike? Even if it is to officially reclaim your love for white supremacy, you're still talking about it. Why are people still not reading up on this? Why does millions still not know that this *didn't* begin on October 7th? And why are there still those who claim that the past doesn't matter today? I have so many questions, and if I do get an answer I will only end up with more questions. How hasn't the world stopped over this? Why are people so okay knowing that there are children being intentionally murdered every single day? How can you go to work and talk about Dave's new tie? Or your 6 year old's birthday party with 15 other 6 year olds? Hasn't it crossed your mind that if the roles were reversed, your precious princess would be the one burried under tons of rubble, dying slowly while simontaniously starving, dehydrating, suffocating and crushing, and *knowing* that absolutely no one cares because you're [skin color] and it's normal for your kids to be horrendously massacred? "Oh but the Taliban-ISIS-Al Qaeda" OKAY so what are you gonna do to help save innocent lives and suffering??? How are you gonna contribute to STOP these organizations that have manipulated and murdered to rule their country and are intentionally making the citicens miserable? Are you even aware that your own govurnment is essentially the same fucking thing, just disguised as a well dressed, polite gentleman? Aren't you sick of all those ads on TV showing brown children with flies in their eyes? Or your mama telling you to think about the starving children in Africa? Because I am.
I am so sick and tired of how inhumane humans have come to be. You don't see animals (and I'm trying my best to not mention how humans *are* animals, guess I failed) intentionally kill another animal simply because they're that animal. They kill prey; polar bears kill seals, seals kill penguins, penguins kill fish, fish kill amoebas, and you can get to that result from absolutely everything. What you don't find as a natural event is a golden, brown mane lion attack and kill an albino lion simply because it's albino. You don't see a school of fish swim away from one with two heads, because "*omg Jared is such a freak with his two heads*." So why the FUCK DID WE START DOING THAT? Where did this hunger for power come from? You *will* see a female lion tell the king that enough is enough, and he *will* accept that. I could go on and on for DAYS if I got the chance, but I don't wanna get too off topic here.
I've started a list of all the universally illegal shit Israel has done, and once I'm satisfied with it, I'll make one comparing Israel to Palestine, and then Arabs/Muslims as a whole. I can guarantee that I will still hear "on-sided sources" still, or "You can't trust Wikipedia!" Have you ever tried to edit or create an article on Wikipedia? I have, and I had to confirm that I had a degree or a current valid work ID to prove that I was elgible to speak on the topic. I tried to make a site for myself... Sure, there are more trustworthy sites, but even in a discussion about wether or not being trans is a mental illness, where I quoted and linked all of the most well known official sources like WHO, I was still slapped with "but this shady ass article from a random Deutch website that explicitly says everything I've said, yet still isn't actually saying the same thing because I misquoted and mixed the words to form my own sentence says that it is" when they literally linked a website called "disabled world". I will say though, I agree with that name. Today's world is so non-funtional for neurotypical, hetero, white MEN, it's no fucking wonder everyone else are classified as disabled or whatever. Also, on that disabled topic, if you've made it this far, please don't say "differently abled". A quote unquote quote (heh geddit? cuz it's rephrased and I don't have the book near me rn to directly quote) from Devon Price's "Unmasking Autism" that I really like: "You wouldn't say "a person with Asianness", you'd say "an Asian person"." We are disabled because today's world isn't made for us, and for the most part isn't even accomodated or accessible to us. We are different, yeah, but literally everyone is. We just got that term because we can't do the same things as you (assuming you're neurotypical) without aid. We are able, just not like you. Of course, if an autistic person tells you they prefer "person with autism", listen to them! But most of us embrace it as a part of us because we can't just get rid of it. Autism is what make me me, I wouldn't be me without my autism, so I *am* autistic, for better or for worse. :)
I find it kinda ironic that I started this as a venting about a lot of Jews' hypocritical behaviour, and now ending up on autism. Yaknow, cuz Dr. Asperger during WW2 experimented and tortured autistic people, and found out that some where more alike him than others, which then coined the term Aspergers for the Autistic Community.
Anywho, I feel better now, so thanks for letting me vent a little (a lot). I want to finish off by restating my intro; I have not, and will not tolerate any hate, racism or discrimination towards any religion, ethnicity, nationality, culture etc. This post is not intended as a rant about how aweful jews are, because they're not. I just wanted to air some frustration over their behaviour regarding I/P genocide. This is also not about *all* Jews, but that's the same discussion as "not all men" so I'll leave it at that.
I will delete this account in a week, so if you have any questions, be fast ig. If you find I've mis-phrased, used irrationally insensitive wording or any other complaints that calls for a repost, I will fix it and post an updated version. My DMs will also be available if that should be of interest, but I will not be responding to hate or personal attacks for my opinions. If the issue is my wording, again, tell me and I'll fix it.
At this point I've written so much that I don't remember if I found anything myself that I figured was worth fixing, and I've proof read it so many times that my eyes are crossing and giving me a headache lol
Gosh I'm scared of posting this. I don't want anyone to read this and think I support what A. H. did in 1940 cuz I cannot begin to describe my hatred for that man

I'm wrapping up the season after being obsessed with this game for the past week. It's been great, the most fun I've had since season 2 for sure, and I look forward to see what comes next!
I have used necro since the start, never played anything else, and I must say I loved most of the changes, but I'll get into that later. First, a summary of how far I got.
What I've done:

• Battle pass
• Season all the way to the last objective
• Level 100
• Tier 81 pit cleared
• Masterwork rank 8 on all my gear

My experience with necro:

• My build was a corpse explosion shadow mage build focused on exploiting the new skeleton abilities to deal shadow damage. It was a lot of fun! Not the standard minion build but instead a shadow build using minions to proc corpses and shadowblight.
  
• Gearing was the most fun I've had in any ARPG I've played. Just the right amount of RNG, fun surprises, and things to look forward to. I think D4 strikes the perfect balance for casual play and it just feels great. The codex fixed all of my problems with stash space and having to spend so much time reading every item. By end game, you look at what's marked with a star and sell/scrap the rest, and that's perfect.
  
• Skeletons play and feel great, but golem is massively overtuned. Early in the endgame I slapped a golem onto my build to add a little extra damage, and let me tell you I had to optimize the **** out of my build to be able to deal a similar amount of damage without it. I think warriors need a buff (they mostly just hold the line) and golems need to be knocked down by a lot.
  
• I LOVE the synergies between skeleton mages and bone/shadow builds, easily my favorite part of the season. Shadowbolt mages are super fun when they proc xfal and shadowblight and all of my abilities. With max attack speed and +50% double shot proc it's insane how fast they shoot.
  

What stops me from continuing:

• I had many issues scaling damage lategame. If you're not running golem or playing a maxroll meta build, I don't think most players will be able to keep up past pit tier 80. You simply run out of damage. By this point I could easily clear uber duriel though so I think it's a decent stopping point for most people.
  
• Masterworking is too annoying at the moment. I had to spam tier 60 despite being able to do 70 relatively well because in order to downgrade meterials you have to pay an insane amount of gold. This meant either getting a pittance of materials, or paying 1.5 million per run to turn the T3 matierial into a T2.
  
• Late game D4 still doesn't feel great. Too many things can immediately kill you, too many effects continue after enemies are long dead. I lost count how many times I've died AFTER clearing a pack. For the record, my necromancer has well over 30k HP and both fortifies and regens health when consuming and generating corpses, my build can literally facetank uber lilith (besides the things you HAVE to dodge). None of that matters, just about anything that elites place on the ground can and will kill you almost immediately, and those effects linger well after the elite dies.
  
• Of all the bosses they could have picked for the pit, they seemingly chose the most annoying ones they have. The rogue in particular is practically impossible at high tiers when Lilith starts showing up to help late in the fight. Imagine doing uber lilith while also having to dodge a bunch of traps, oh, and you can only damage the boss half the time!
  

In summary:
D4 from levels 1-100 and all the way to nightmare 70ish and early Pit is fantastic. But the end game suffers from the exact same problem it always has: D4 becomes a bullet hell game and not an ARPG at some point, and they need to do something about it.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

In the original post I made, I worded some of my claims poorly, so I think I should try again. In case you're curious, I was talking about the domsauce's "Chikn Nuggit Parody Show"(CNPS), & its reception compared to the original "Chikn Nuggit"(OGCN), after that I talked about a senario this reminded me of, that being Sealab 2021's cult following. If you don't know, "Sealab 2021" is a parody of the 1970's environmental cartoon called "Sealab 2020", using original footage from the show, but redubbing it for comedic purposes. The difference between this & the Chikn Nuggit shows (besides CNPS making it's own footage) is the popularity. While I have seen a handful of fans claim that CNPS is better than OGCN, that it jack shit compared to how much Sealab 2021 overshadowed Sealab 2020. Because unlike with the Sealab shows, I can look up "Chikn Nuggit" & get either just results for OGCN, or equal results for both shows, if not slightly less results for CNPS. However, even if I look up "Sealab 2020", & NOT "Sealab 2021", I'd still end up getting more results for Sealab 2021 than Sealab 2020, seriously, it made finding any sort of reviews or information about Sealab 2020 insanely annoying, but from what I could gather, Sealab 2020 is split right down the middle, with some claiming that it's s pretty good & others, like IGN weirdly enough, calling it, abysmol. Meanwhile Sealab 2021 got almost universal appraisal from critics & fans, even IGN (again) put it as #79 on their list of the top 100 greatest cartoons of all time. There are other parody series that gained more recognition than the originals (Harvey Birdman, Space Ghost), but I have never seen a parody so recognizable, so popular, & so critically acclaimed, that it put it's source material near obscurity. And that brings us back to the Chikn Nuggit shows, because as I said at the beginning, there are actually fans who said that they think that CNPS is better than OGCN, it's not to the point of being more recognizable, far from it, just look at the sub count of the original's channel & domsauce's channel, but just think about it, the parody, made by one guy, managed to have fans (even if not that many) that prefer it to it's source material, mady by a team of professionals, & has a company funding them. There's even a person who reviewed both shows, slamming OGCN for its characters, dialogue, & humor, while praising CNPS for its characters, dialogue, & humor.(If you're curious, I'll comment the review link.) That reminds me, there was a term for a parody being more popular or better recieved than the original source material, it's called "Parody Displacement". From what I read, it's where a show is more popular or acclaimed than the original works it's parodying by the masses, I say from what I read, because I can't tell if it's for just being more populaacclaimed in general (even slightly), or being specifically "Sealab 2021" levels of popularity & recognition, to where it makes the original so close to, if not completely, unrecognizable. It can also apparently refer to a show being better received for appealing to a different, or more mature audience. Sounds familiar? Yeah, CNPS, while I believe does have the original's fans in mind, seems to also be targeting a different audience, primarily the fans of domsauce's other works, also unlike OGCN, which is for general audiences, CNPS is primarily for adults, with mild to moderate swearing, some sexual reference & themes (cough, cough, "The Obsession", cough, cough), & probably what's it's most famous for, it's very high levels of intense violence & gore!(It's played for laughs, but still.) Of course, OGCN is still more recognizable, & has more views than CNPS, but I still find it fascinating that there are people who like the parody more. Honestly I don't think, nor want what happened to Sealab 2020 to happen to OGCN (thought, I still want the CNPS to succeed), because I think that both shows deserve the praise they get, & I want OGCN to still have it's fans. Though, I do still wonder what would happen if it repeats Sealab's steps. I don't have an exact preference for either show (thought that may change), they do have their strengths & weaknesses, but you can check out other people's posts to see what those are. So yeah, that's my redo of my post about domsauce's parody & Sealab 2021. Did I do it better? I'm not sure! For all I know, I probably fucked up once again here. But I did at least try to correct what I could, & if you wanna see what I originally said, I'll leave it in the comments here. I... don't know how to sign off soooooo... later, I guess.

A couple days ago I listened to this rp ASMR video on YouTube where your male friend teaches you how to kiss. (I believe it was M4F.) In the video it talks about how the listener is seeing a guy and the guy wants to take it to the next step but the listener doesn't know how. The listener explains they've never had a first kiss before which shocks the friend. He says the listener is really attractive and there's no way they've never been kissed before. The listener suggests that the friend help them and the male friend agrees to help the listener learn. He explains how kisses work and then they start off with simple pecks, then they go into longer kisses. The listener gets better and eventually suggest using tongue which the male friend agrees to, taking over for the first kiss before the listener gets the hang of it and starts to take the lead. The friend makes a remark about not wanting to stop kissing the listener I think and they decide to just continue kissing. Very vague I know but I fell asleep and don't remember much after that, if there was even any. The guys voice wasn't necessarily deep or high-pitched and he didn't have an accent. I looked through YouTube and couldn't find it but I'II know the video when I hear it. If you know videos anything like this please let me know and send them to me

I (21M) met my ex (21F) when we were both 17 in my senior year of high school. We knew each other when we were little kids and then didn’t see each other until we were 17. Right away we had an instant connection. We would get together almost everyday and it was amazing. We both went to different colleges and I ended up failing in college pretty miserably my first semester due to drug and alcohol addiction and other issues. I was able to transfer to the school she was at and things were really good again. Overtime however, my addiction got worse and I could barely ever even communicate. I’d get so drunk and high that days would go by and I’d have no idea what even happened. She tried to help me through it but she liked to drink and smoke weed and could do it in a somewhat healthy way. I’d get mad at her when she’d tell me not to drink or smoke or do whatever drug I wanted to do. Things slowly deteriorated and she ended up telling me that while we apart long distance during our first semester of college that she had sent nude pics to a guy for money. I told her that I had paid for porn. We argued for a while and then had sex and things were never the same. Took a break for a week and I eventually broke up with her over the phone after when she got mad at me not answering it. I went to rehab and am sober now and have been for 16 months. Looking back I realize how much of the problem I was. Don’t get me wrong, she had her faults and made mistakes. But I handed things horribly due to drugs. I actually made amends with her this past December. I said I was sorry in person for all the pain I’d caused and things I’d said. The only really mean thing I’d said was when we broke up. I had T old her that she brought no joy to my life. In reality, I just hated myself back then. I ended up moving across the country after getting sober and just visit my hometown where she lives and goes to college every so often.
She is so beautiful and I still get butterflies in my stomach when I see her. She’s a good person and definitely has flaws but I love her regardless. I think about her almost everyday. I dream about her at least once a week. We’ve been texting recently but just small talk. I’m thinking of seeing if she’d want to get together to hangout when I go home next month. I have a job across the country and I’m not going to quit for her on whim and move back to where she is. I also can’t do long distance because of what happened last time. I also don’t even know if she’d want to get back together. Would it be a bad idea to hangout regardless? What’s the worst that could happen? I’m getting a lot of mixed responses from friends so I thought I’d ask the internet. Anything helps. Thanks.
I’ve only seen her in person once since the breakup and that was this past December. We are now on good terms. Also we dated for a year and a half before we broke up and it’s been a year and a half since then.
It’d be really awkward if she sees this lmao. I don’t even think she uses Reddit but we will see.

The United Kingdom boasts the most lucrative ecommerce market in Europe, with the ecommerce industry reaching £103 billion in revenue in 2023. Over 27 million people made online clothing purchases last year, contributing significantly to this growth. ,
We explored the best online clothing stores in the UK, covering product ranges, best sellers, and prices in our article.
Here is a quick summary of the full post:

Gymshark

• Overview: Renowned as one of the best ecommerce companies in the UK, Gymshark stands out as a top online sportswear store built on Shopify. The Gymshark products are designed to help and encourage customers to perform at their best and achieve their fitness goals.
• Product Range: Fitness apparel for men and women, including t-shirts, leggings, shorts, hoodies, and sports bras.
• Best Sellers: Adapt Fleck Seamless Shorts, Crest Tank
• Price Range: £20 - £120

Oh Polly

• Overview: Oh Polly is a premium women’s fashion brand offering trendy and flattering clothing. It began by selling clothes on eBay and has grown into aone of the leading DTC brands, designing and producing its own garments.
• Product Range: Dresses, trousers, swimwear, beachwear, and accessories.
• Best Sellers: CALI, ELLI
• Price Range: £17 - £220

ASOS

• Overview: ASOS aims to provide young adults with a wide variety of high-quality clothing, accessories, and beauty products. The brand stands out for its vast product lineup, featuring premium brands alongside its own range of clothing and accessories.
• Product Range: Clothing, accessories, footwear, and beauty items.
• Best Sellers: ASOS DESIGN denim jacket, Levi’s t-shirt
• Price Range: Under £20 to over £200

Boohoo

• Overview: Boohoo is known for trendy, affordable fashion targeted at young adults. The brand leverages a strong social media presence to engage with its audience, particularly through platforms like Instagram.
• Product Range: Dresses, tops, shoes, and accessories.
• Best Sellers: LINEN PINSTRIPE PUFF SLEEVE CROP TOP, TONAL STRIPE LINEN LOOK SHORTS
• Price Range: £24 - £44

Club L London

• Overview: Club L London offers “accessible luxury” through its distinctive range of apparel aimed at forward-thinking women. The brand emphasizes quality and unique design, catering to sizes UK 4-24 and US 0-20.
• Product Range: Dresses, tailored suits, jumpsuits, accessories.
• Best Sellers: EVA, LAW OF ATTRACTION
• Price Range: £20 - £200

Represent

• Overview: Represent is a British luxury streetwear brand known for its distinctive approach to fashion that merges street style with high-end craftsmanship. The brand is acclaimed for its meticulous attention to detail and the use of premium materials.
• Product Range: T-shirts, hoodies, pants, outerwear, accessories.
• Best Sellers: REPRESENT OWNERS CLUB HOODIE, REPRESENT OWNERS CLUB T-SHIRT
• Price Range: £20 - £900

Motel

• Overview: Motel is a vibrant and trendy fashion brand known for its eclectic and vintage-inspired fashion that resonates with young, style-conscious individuals. The brand works with a global team to create trendy, expressive pieces for its core collections.
• Product Range: Dresses, trousers, skirts, swimwear, knitwear, accessories.
• Best Sellers: Pami Bikini Top, Jarli Hot Pants
• Price Range: £22 - £60

Chi Chi London

• Overview: Chi Chi London is a vibrant and fashion-forward brand known for its unique, trend-setting designs. The brand prides itself on bringing catwalk-inspired fashion directly to the high street, offering exclusive styles that celebrate individuality.
• Product Range: Dresses for various occasions, tops, trousers, skirts, outerwear.
• Best Sellers: V Neck Floral Embroidered Lace Midi Dress, Knot Detail Maxi Dress in Champagne
• Price Range: Under £50 to around £200

Pretty Little Thing

• Overview: Part of the Boohoo Group, PrettyLittleThing is a UK-based fast-fashion brand targeting young women, emphasizing trend-driven styles. The brand operates internationally, focusing on affordable fashion to ensure style accessibility across budgets.
• Product Range: Dresses, tops, shoes, accessories, beauty products.
• Best Sellers: Petite Basic Grey Cotton Blend Cycle Shorts, Cream Contour Sculpt Short Sleeve T Shirt
• Price Range: Starting at £9

Glamorous

• Overview: Glamorous offers contemporary and affordable fashion, available in over 30 countries. Known for its contemporary and affordable fashion, the brand thrives on being at the forefront of fashion trends.
• Product Range: Dresses, jeans, coats, jackets, shoes, accessories.
• Best Sellers: Apple-Green Pink Lace Trim Mini-Dress, Fuchsia Ruffle Halterneck Mini-Dress
• Price Range: Tops for under £30 to mini dresses over £150

Statistics of Online Clothing Stores in the UK

• Current Buyers: Over 27 million UK residents purchased clothing online in 2023, expected to increase to over 32 million by 2028.
• Ecommerce Revenue from Fashion: In 2023, sales from apparel, shoes, handbags, and accessories contributed nearly one-third of the ecommerce revenue in the UK, surpassing £35 billion.
• Revenue Forecast: The fashion ecommerce market is projected to grow by £14.3 billion by 2029, reaching nearly £47 billion.
• Market Penetration: The penetration rate of apparel ecommerce stood at 15.2%.

Demographics & Shopping Trends

• Millennials (Ages 27-42): 70% reported primarily shopping online for clothing and footwear in Q2 2023.
  
• Generation Z: 50% preferred online shopping for apparel.
  
• Primary Age Groups & Gender Differences: The largest segment of mobile clothing shoppers was those aged 25-34, accounting for 52.3%. Men were 4% more likely than women to shop online for apparel.
  

Conclusion: Leading Online Stores in the UK

The UK’s top online clothing stores are reshaping how we think about fashion shopping. From impressive growth in the overall UK ecommerce sector to distinctive shopping preferences and options, online stores are meeting and often exceeding customer expectations. Whether seeking the latest trends, best deals, or most sustainable choices, online clothing shopping offers many options and benefits.
If you want to explore statistics or ecommerce-related content, you can browse the pieces we have crafted earlier:

• 80+ Key Ecommerce Statistics
• 10+ Top Ecommerce Podcasts to Explore (2024)
• Ecommerce Cart Abandonment Statistics
• Explore Top Temu Statistics (2024)

The guy who tried to kill me walked into my work today after a decade
It’s been a decade since I left a highly abusive ex. I never thought I’d have to see him again until he walked into my work. I’m so angry that I had to leave my station because seeing him brought back everything he did to me.
It started off as the usual pattern. He started becoming controlling then the insults came, it escalated from there. He would scream how I was worthless, a stupid fucking b, pathetic, no one would ever love me, the whole 9 yards.
Then came the punching of walls beside me as I would be crying for him to stop screaming at me.
I lost my virginity to him which was a horrible experience. It really hurt when we started and when I voiced that, he just said it’s going to hurt while going harder. My head kept hitting the couch and he didn’t care nor stop.
I would try everyday to say the right things and behave a certain way in order to not make him angry. I often failed.
One day we got into a fight because I had embarrassed him in front of his friend. They had came over my house where he immediately raided my fridge for alcohol and went to the Tv to play games where he completely ignored me the whole time. I was clearly upset, that’s how I embarrassed him - by being upset. We went into my room when we started to fight. He put his hands around my neck to chock me. I stepped closer daring him to do it, I had snapped, he let go and started crying. I ended up comforting him. That was the usual pattern, me making him feel better about his actions.
Then it escalated one night when I went to pick him up. I was upset because I had to drive 40 min to get him. He made me feel shitty that I was tired from work and wanted to hang out a different day. When I picked him up he was quiet as I told him my frustrations when I was done talking he had said nothing. I could feel the panic as he didn’t say a word and was completely still. We were on the highway going 75 at this point. He slowly reached over putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on the steering wheel. He started screaming right beside my face telling me how I’m a stupid fucking b. That’s the only thing I remember him saying, I just remember his cold spit hitting my face and the car starting to veer off the road where my survival instant came in. He didn’t care what was about to happen, he was ready for both of us to crash. I started screaming for him to let go of the wheel and started hitting him for him to let go. I had never put hands in anyone in my life nor have it since. He finally let go before we went completely off the road. Then he started punching the car continuing his tirade. I kept driving, just frozen. That was Valentine’s Day.
There’s so much more that happened in between and more that happened afterwards. The whole relationship left me traumatized for a long time. It took time to heal and work through it all. The hardest part was forgiving myself for staying so long. I have healed and put it behind me. Until today.
I didn’t even realize it was him until he did a motion when I asked if he needed help. I recognized it immediately then I registered who he was. It all came rushing back and got fully triggered. I had to immediately step away and told my manager I needed someone to cover my post because someone was in the building that I couldn’t be around. All the employees are all on radios. He asked me why and I just word vomited that it was because he tried to kill me. Which now, I’m horrified I said it for everyone to hear because I’m a very private person. My manager came to me immediately and asked me who he was and what he was wearing so he could kick him out. I couldn’t answer what he was even wearing at all, all that came to mind was his cold spit on my face.
We started to walk to the room where the cameras are so I could point him out when I saw him walking our way. My manager and I got into the room for me to stay. When he was going to tell him to leave, he had be lined to the door because he knew what was about to happen.
I’m so angry. I’ve long moved on and I’ve had a great loving life since that time in my life. I’m angry that he still had the ability to trigger me after all of these years. I’m angry my body reacted to him and my body went to a trauma response. I’m thankful that I work in a place where everyone is supportive but the embarrassment is hard to swallow at the moment.
Trauma is hard and complicated. Thank you for letting me share.
Edit: spelling

I’m honestly just trying to do my best and be a kind and loving and honest person, but nearly every member of my family has NPD and I am forever the scapegoat.
My partner is great but I have attracted so many abusive friends, bosses, former partners, etc… at this point, In my 40s, I feel totally defeated that things will ever improve. I feel like my brain and nervous system / self-esteem, trust, & confidence are all severely affected and I’m starting to lose my ability to function.
I fantasize about moving to another country and changing my name and just disappearing and starting over. I want to know who I would be without all of this baggage.
I’m sick to death of feeling like a small, weak version of myself, forever fawning to toxic abusive people…. How do I get out of this scapegoat role and reclaim my true potential?

Hi, this is gonna be a bit long, but let me explain the entire situation so far: Going back about a year or so, I started noticing an elevated heart rate above what I usually would have. I have an apple watch that allows me to check my heart rate, and around this time I started to get notifications that my heart rate was above average (in the 120s to 130s range while resting as opposed to my normal 60-80 range). This happened a few times along with some very minor chest pain / tightness, however after laying down for a few hours / going to bed it would usually return to normal. Around the same time I got diagnosed with anxiety and ADHD and placed on an SSRI to help my anxiety after trying ADHD meds and not liking them. I never really had any incidents with high heart rate after that, so I had assumed it was just anxiety causing it (and that may still be the case). A few months went by and I ended up starting college and got myself a girlfriend. As I ended up finding out, SSRIs, while great, have the unfortunate side effect of erectile dysfunction, so I weaned off my meds so I could prioritize my love life. There were a few incidents after this where my heart rate was above average, but again I just chalked this up to anxiety, as it would usually go away on its own. At one point I went into my on campus doctor's office just to verify my heart was okay after an elevated heart rate the night before, and they gave me an EKG which came up clear. Months go by, and things are fine, besides a slight uptick in anxiety. Unfortunately however, my relationship began to crumble and my anxiety skyrocketed, and we eventually broke up, which led me to talking to my doctor and getting placed back on anxiety medication. However, I really didn't like how SSRI's impacted my libido, so after trying a few more SSRI's I was placed on Buspirone. I love Buspirone, and it's made a noticeable difference on my confidence / reducing anxiety. When I take my full dose at once (30 mg), I tend to get a bit dizzy / nauseous, however when split up into 10 mg taken at breakfast lunch and dinner I have no noticeable side effects. I will say (and I don't know if this is in any way important but I'm just naming everything possible), I have noticed that since stopping the SSRIs and starting Buspirone I tend to ejaculate VERY fast which is abnormal for me, and although I would like to fix that it is not my main concern. Moving on though, after about a month or two after being placed on Buspirone, we get to where my heart problems start. As someone who had never used any substances my entire life, leaving home and going to college gave me the freedom to try new things, and although I know it's not great, on weekends me and my friends will get together and drink or occasionally smoke weed / take an edible. I was worried at first about interactions with my medication, but after some research all anything online could tell me was that I may get drunk faster / more nauseous and dizzy, which wasn't too big of a deal for me. I had tried weed earlier in college and didn't like the way it made me feel, however after being placed on Buspirone I decided to try it again and actually enjoyed the feeling, so I started doing it more on the weekends as opposed to just drinking, which leads us to the incident. Me and some friends had just sat down to watch a movie, and all taken an edible. Time passed, and I started to notice that my heart rate was extremely elevated, way more than I was usually used to. I checked my heart rate, and found that my watch was displaying an average of 160 bpm. At first I thought I was just having a bad high and tried to calm myself. I laid on the floor and put some ice on my forehead, but nothing was helping. I checked my heart rate again and saw that my watch was displaying 190, which really freaked me out as that was way higher than I had ever seen before. I had my sober friend call Public Safety for me, and they came to my dorm room and did a basic check up on me. They said that I had a fever, and when they took my heart rate they got something in the 160s range. Their explanation was that my anxiety, when combined with being high and likely being sick made my heart rate elevated, which made sense at the time. I went into my college's health services to follow up the next day since my heart rate was still elevated (in the 120s-130s range), however they again told me it was probably just anxiety. A few days went by and my heart rate was STILL above average, so I decided to double check with my real doctor off campus. About a day before this I had also stopped taking my medication to see if it could be the cause for my elevated heart rate. The doctors took my vitals and immediately noticed that had very high blood pressure and an elevated heart rate, to the point where they sent in a second doctor to recheck my vitals and make sure it was correct. After talking to me and having me give a run down of my symptoms, they had me schedule an appointment with a cardiologist and told me that if I ever experience chest pain and a heart rate above 100 bpm that wouldn't go down to go to the hospital. I had also told them about how I stopped taking my medication and they told me that that was fine and to tell the cardiologist about it. About a week passes, and I have my cardiologist appointment in a few days. I had been up the night before working on my final exams, so I hadn't gotten much sleep, and besides a breakfast sandwich that I had for lunch I hadn't eaten much either. I had been experiencing chest pain all day, but I assumed it was being caused by my lack of sleep, so after classes I went and took a nap. After a few hours I woke up, and immediately noticed that I still had chest pain. I checked my apple watch, and my heart rate was displaying roughly 90-110 bpm while laying down, which on top of the chest pain made me worried since my doctor had told me that that was cause to go to the hospital. I called my parents to tell them about it, and they drove to the school and had me sit in the car and eat some food they had made to see if it would help at all. However, even after this, my heart rate was still above 100 bpm and I still had chest pain, so my mom made the call to bring me to the hospital. While on the way to the hospital, out of nowhere my heart rate increased to about 170-180 bpm, which freaked me out. We arrived at the hospital, and they immediately gave me an EKG to make sure I wasn't going to drop dead. During this time, I also was shaking a lot and couldn't make myself stop. Eventually they took me into a room and decided to run some tests on me. The tests they did are as follows: BASIC METABOLIC PANEL, CBC WITH DIFF, TROPONIN NH, D DIMER DEEP VEIN THROMB LEVEL, TSH REFLEX, X-RAY CHEST PA AND LATERAL, and ECG-12 LEAD. While I'm not a doctor, from what they told me and from what I can see, everything turned up pretty normal. My potassium was a smidge low, as well as my MCV and MPV, and my Monocyte (absolute) was a tad high, but generally nothing to worry about. The website where I'm viewing my test results display my ECG as abnormal and an attached document says I have left atrial enlargement as well as sinus tachycardia, but they only mentioned sinus tachycardia in the hospital so I assume that it was just the machine reading my test results and giving its own diagnosis. Long story short though, I left the hospital a few hours later, and although I still had a slightly elevated heart rate they said I was fine to go about life normally and to follow up with my cardiologist. Cut to the present, and I just met with my cardiologist a couple days ago. I gave him the general rundown of the above story (but didn't mention the edible as a precursor to the 190 bpm heartrate as my mom was in the next room over and the door was wide open), and after checking my vitals he told me that although I did have an elevated heart rate and high blood pressure, my chest pain probably wasn't a huge concern and that he wasn't too worried it was anything life threatening. He told me I could resume taking my meds (which I had temporarily replaced with ashwagandha supplements while I waited for the appointment and have since stopped taking), and had me wear a little device that monitored my heart rate for 24 hours, which I'm set to return in a couple days. He also told me that when I returned it he would check my results and give me an echocardiogram and go from there. So, with any luck, he should be able to figure things out then. However, I wanted to post this to see if anyone could help me get any ideas on what it could be that I could run by him to help speed things up. I also have a recent theory of my own that I want to hear advice on. I was doing research and discovered that Buspirone, when taken with other medication that increases serotonin, can cause serotonin syndrome. After another google search, I found out that weed can increase serotonin levels. The only hole in that theory is that I stopped taking Buspirone after the initial spike in heart rate / blood pressure but had no noticeable changes. Oh and one last thing, if you can't think of anything in regards to what could be causing my elevated heart rate, I actually would like to know why I'm ejaculating so fast so I can fix it because its gotten to the point where I can't even enjoy masturbating because of how fast I cum.
In case I missed anything, here's a list of my symptoms (although I have no idea if they're all correlated): - High heart rate (anywhere from 90-190 bpm) - High blood pressure - Chest pain / tightness on my left side and does not hurt more when I breath in / out (every now and then pain extends to my neck and shoulder) - Frequently tired - Insomnia (could be correlated with the above symptom lol) - Get out of breath faster than usual - Anxiety (already had this though) - Mild depression (probably from my breakup) - Lack of motivation (probably from my ADHD) - Very rare and random spasms in my neck - Probably something minor that I'm forgetting but if I can't think of it it probably isn't important (will update this list if new symptoms arise)
TLDR: I have a high heart rate and blood pressure and can't figure out why

I am black and white, however I was adopted into a black family. Well my adoptee mother is multiracial but phenotypically black. She has two mixed race parents. Her father is part Irish, part Native American and black, and her mother is part Native American, and black. So they say. My adoptee father is as black as one can get, his family has strong Cameroonian roots and the whole family is darker skinned, so my blood siblings and I stuck out like a sore thumb. They had been in the south for generations, back to slavery times yet mixing seemed to happen very little. I’m not even over exaggerating when I say there was only one lighter brown skinned cousin in the whole family.
Every time mixed people are brought up into the conversation online, usually with mixed celebrities with a black parents and a black/white mixed parent, whether they are black or mixed is debated. Most black people seem to have no problem labeling them as black because “they are like 75% black and we are all on average 25% white anyway from slavery”..I along with other mixed race people would disagree and try to convince them that they are still mixed race. One response I hate is “by that logic we are all mixed then…studies show African Americans are 25% European on average..you know how many of our ancestors were raped?” Rape definitely happened on plantations..but the study seems off. I have some questions about it.

1. Where was this study done? That’s VERY important. If this study was done in west Louisiana with creole populations, Virginia, or Texas… then I would believe that the data was made up of mostly multiracial African Americans with heavy mixed roots which do NOT make up the majority of the ADOS population. I’m from down south and a lot of black people down here don’t have much admixture, especially not in the Carolina’s, Georgia or florida(where lots of Haitian immigrants are).
   
2. Slavery impacted ADOS genetic diversity…but for most to be 25% European? If all of your grandparents are black and your parents are black all with very little admixture I don’t think the European dna would be that high from slavery. Sure dna isn’t equally distributed however it doesn’t just stay at such a high percentage for over 7 generations either unless it’s biracials marrying and having children together every generation. 25% is ALOT.
   
3. I believe Henry Louis gates jr. did this study. He himself is a multi generation mixed person, he tested 50% European.
   

How do you feel about this study? Do you think people only use this argument to silence us? Or take away the multiracial identity? Do you think it’s accurate? Phenotype and genotype don’t always match up but I doubt most are less than 98%-83% African on average.

I’m honestly just trying to do my best and be a kind and loving and honest person, but nearly every member of my family has NPD and I am forever the scapegoat.
My partner is great but I have attracted so many abusive friends, bosses, former partners, etc… at this point, In my 40s, I feel totally defeated that things will ever improve. I feel like my brain and nervous system / self-esteem, trust, & confidence are all severely affected and I’m starting to lose my ability to function.
I fantasize about moving to another country and changing my name and just disappearing and starting over. I want to know who I would be without all of this baggage.
I’m sick to death of feeling like a small, weak version of myself, forever fawning to toxic abusive people…. How do I get out of this scapegoat role and reclaim my true potential?

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Me and my sister had something super not fun happen to us just a couple hours ago. I’m still kinda paranoid ngl.
My sister(F27) was driving me(F21) home after hanging out all day and going to the movies. I live out in the country so it’s about a 30 minute drive from the edge of town. We’re having a good time, windows rolled down and singing to some Britney Spears. We notice that the car behind us has been going the same way as us for quite a bit because they have absolutely blinding headlights.
We slow down and move over towards the shoulder so they can pass us. They also slow down and keep behind us. I start feeling nervous when they won’t go around us when we try to get them to pass. We thought about pulling off the road but there wasn’t really anywhere we could.
When we go through intersections, they slow down and copy our turn signal after we put it on and then blow through the light before it turns red. The same thing happens at the multiple four way stops it takes to get to my neighborhood. We have turned our music off at this point because the vibe was killed, we were almost certain we were being followed. The road before we turn off has a pretty high speed limit, so we turn on our turn signal as late as possible before turning. This person had to slam on their brakes so fast to turn that the car behind them had to go around to not crash.
So we get onto our road, which is a really big circle, we make a different turn and go around the circle backwards to how we usually get to my house. They are still behind us and copy our turn. We get about 5 minutes into the circle, about halfway through the neighborhood and my finger was hovering over the call button for my stepdad, who is at the house. The car turns off into a random driveway, but not all the way up to the house at the end. We keep driving and finish the loop at my house once we are absolutely positive we are no longer being followed.
We hung out for an hour or so and then my sister drove back to her house. I get a call when she gets back home, she saw the exact same vehicle with the same bright ass head lights, waiting on the grass off the side of the road kinda near a gas station, facing the direction of the oncoming traffic. They probably saw and heard us as we drove past because we had the windows down at the intersection.
TLDR: Followed for 40 minutes from town to the countryside and lost them. My sister was driving back after hanging out and saw them lurking by the road and watching oncoming traffic.