7 days to die character builder

I just bought a Lenovo Ideapad Gaming 3 laptop 2 days ago primarily to play the Sims 4 (the link to the one I bought is below). I used it for the first time yesterday, but only while it was plugged in. When I used it while it was unplugged this morning, it died very quickly. I thought it was weird but figured it may not have been charged completely. However, when I just went to use it again, it was on 98% at 10:28 PM (right when I turned it on) and 16% at 11:14 PM. I only played the Sims 4 (I have multiple packs along with mods and CC) and did not have anything running in the background.
I also turned down my brightness to about 20% and applied all of the recommended battery saving options. I don’t know what to do because this laptop is literally brand new and should not be having this much of a battery problem. The only modification I made to the laptop itself was adding 16 gb of RAM, but I’m not sure if this would impact the battery’s performance.
What should I do to try to fix this issue? I am at a loss and am frustrated because the up to 8 hour battery life was one of the primary reasons I chose this laptop above others. Any advice would be really appreciated!
https://www.bestbuy.com/site/lenovo-ideapad-gaming-3-15-6-fhd-laptop-ryzen-5-5600h-8gb-memory-nvidia-geforce-rtx-3050-ti-256gb-ssd-shadow-black/6513216.p?skuId=6513216

I’ve been dying to roll Cleaver. I know the chest rework could be any day now… or month. But I’m incredibly tempted to pull 25k worth of Emeralds in the Heroic Chest right now. Any suggestions?

1. During the existence, the UNM had 267 rebellions. The first one was the rebellion of new earth and the biggest one was the new German war which lasted 50 years and 5 billion people died.
   
2. The biggest crisis that happened to the UNM before the Orion’s war and the “corruption” was the post-human crisis which as it name says was a conflict between the UNM against its low g-worlds and high g-worlds which if it had turned into a war, it would have been the deadliest war in human history.
   
3. The colony with the highest population was new Beijing with 12 billion and the one with the lowest was Ultima with half a billion people.
   
4. For a few centuries Vixerians and Fenrisians were considered honorary humans.
   
5. The biggest ships in the UNM arsenal were the: UNMS Earth, UNMS Mars, UNMS Everest and UNMS Olympus Mons.
   
6. The best (and only) allies that humanity had were the Empire of Vixeria and the Kingdom of Fenris.
   
7. The biggest planet that the UNM colonized had 2.5 earth masses and the smallest one had an earth mass of 0.03.
   
8. The UNM did have plasma weaponry but it was the definition of bad and expensive
   
9. if the nuclear war that happened on 2050 never happened humanity instead of founding New Earth in 2300, they would have founded it in 2500.
   
10. In the point 6 I said that the Vixerians and Fenrisians where the only allies of humanity when in fact they were only the allies of the Kingdom of New Galicia.
    

So, I (21M) am a Saudi who just graduated from the US and will go back next week since working in the US on a visa is awful. And I'm not looking forward to it. I just gotta get this off my chest. I grew up in the height of the "sahwah" or "islamic enlightenment" which saw the clerics take control of all facets of society. From education to law to fucking everything. I had to watch my mother struggle with paperwork to raise me since she (a 33 yr old woman) needed a "guardian" and when she was married to my dad he was the "guardian". Ultimately they separated when I was 7 but they remained married on paper (despite living in different homes) for 12 years after because my mother didn't want to get back under the "guardianship" of her abusive dad. I'm only thankful that my dad is a reasonable man who detests these awful "guardianship" laws as much we all do and stuck with being the "guardian" of my mother for 12 years. doing all her passports, paperworks, giving her "permissions" to travel. Now they're officially divorced but my older brother, her SON is her "guardian" again thank God he's also a reasonable guy that doesn't chain her but we're all fed up with this bullshit.
The amount of damage the "sahwah" has done to society is astronomical. It always makes my blood boil how it infected every facet of society. I went to a normal government school in the "SCENTIFIC" track but 50% of my curriculum is religion. Stupid crap like fiqh and sharia that won't invent planes or make medicine. My fucking PHYSICS teacher used to preach hate against the "infidel west" and "music" all the while taking western medicine, using western computers, and even wearing clothes made in the west. What's even more laughable is that was during the height of the "anti-terrorism" campaign. So they literally used to teach us "those kuffars are evil, corrupt, manipulative, enemy of all muslims, and 9/11 was an inside job to villanize all muslims" BUT "don't blow them up" like wtf?? You're preaching all this fucking hate for this group of people, calling them evil, enemies, but qualifying it with saying but "don't blow them up" like yeah I'm sure that's gonna work. No wonder we're the den of Islamic terrorism, this level of cognitive dissonance always made me and my dad chuckle if not cry for the future of the country.
A situation that I will always remember is when I went to a presentation by the head of the most prestigious MEDICAL school in the country. He asked the audience " what's the most important major?" I took a chance and said "science?" and he replied "no! sharia is!" because "science without sharia is aimless and hollow". To which I absolutely wanted so badly to respond with "well how come we're all using these "hollow" inventions from the kuffars? if they're so hollow why don't we give them up and be self-sufficient" but I didn't because I'm not a dumbass about to be ostracized for showing some critical thinking skills.
Decades of religious indoctrination have created a generation that's both too educated and under-educated. too educated because of the free schools and universities but under-educated due to how much religion is shoved into every subject. Doesn't matter if it's chemistry, they have to always shove religion into it. This also reminds me of a saying by my chemistry teacher. He used to say that "women are like protons and their nucleus is the house. As soon as protons (women) leave their house (nucleus) a nuclear reaction (total anarchy) will ensue." how he managed to shove religion into fucking chemistry is beyond me. No wonder 80% of workers in the private sector are foreigners and 50% of IT workers are foreign. While we were all too busy with fiqh and sharia we started bringing western kuffars educated in science and technology to work for us. I'm sure that's sustainable and the oil will never cease to be important.
And now I'm going back to this country in a few days. God help me (if he's there) because I don't know how I will cope. My only saving grace is that I have a penis so I don't have to deal with 7th century "guardianship" laws, My heart goes out to all women in Saudi Arabia and other repressive muslim countries who have to deal with this crap. I don't know how you all do but you're incredible. I only hope with all these new reforms that life for women will continue improving and that not another "sahwah" will emerge to set us back another 50 years.
I just wanted to get this off my chest. I'm aware of all the new reforms and I'm hopeful for change but you can imagine that being brought up in such an environment makes me question how much "reform" can do in the short term to heal those infected with decades long of Islamic indoctrination. I hope I can immigrate to a western country in the future. I don't care if it's the US, new Zealand or japan. Just anywhere free of this religious obsession. This is a throwaway account so I won't be replying to anyone. Thanks for reading this far. Hoping you and I all end up safe wherever we want to be.

I understand that the used cars are first come first serve and can go any time. I have wasted trips to dealers 50mi away just because I asked for a vehicle the day before and was gonna check it out the next day only to know that the vehicle was sold that morning. Which is fine and since then, I started to ask dealers beforehand IF there are any deals on the car or any deposits being made, they say no, and once i reach the dealership, voila! the car was sold. They instantly start showing any other cars they have and i now believe its just a sick tactic! I don't want a beat down german when I told you im exclusively looking for Japanese cars!
CPO dealers are a breed of their own as soon as they hear "I'm not buying it today since i have to visit a couple more dealers tomorrow" they fuck right off completely disinterested to sell or show the car
I don't have a car right now in a city that is sprawled wide out and it is very expensive to rent a car for the weekend and go to test rive cars. leaning heavily towards just buying off Carvana and using their 7 day return period. FUCK THIS!
Thanks for listening :(

1. During the existence, the UNM had 267 rebellions. The first one was the rebellion of new earth and the biggest one was the new German war which lasted 50 years and 5 billion people died.
   
2. The biggest crisis that happened to the UNM before the Orion’s war and the “corruption” was the post-human crisis which as it name says was a conflict between the UNM against its low g-worlds and high g-worlds which if it had turned into a war, it would have been the deadliest war in human history.
   
3. The colony with the highest population was new Beijing with 12 billion and the one with the lowest was Ultima with half a billion people.
   
4. For a few centuries Vixerians and Fenrisians were considered honorary humans.
   
5. The biggest ships in the UNM arsenal were the: UNMS Earth, UNMS Mars, UNMS Everest and UNMS Olympus Mons.
   
6. The best (and only) allies that humanity had were the Empire of Vixeria and the Kingdom of Fenris.
   
7. The biggest planet that the UNM colonized had 2.5 earth masses and the smallest one had an earth mass of 0.03.
   
8. The UNM did have plasma weaponry but it was the definition of bad and expensive
   
9. if the nuclear war that happened on 2050 never happened humanity instead of founding New Earth in 2300, they would have founded it in 2500.
   
10. In the point 6 I said that the Vixerians and Fenrisians where the only allies of humanity when in fact they were only the allies of the Kingdom of New Galicia.
    

Im level 5 now. Every fight someone is going down in my party.
My druid cant cast spells with a weapon in hand but his cantrips are missing most of the time. Cant cast? Cant heal. Cant heal? People die. But he needs a shield to gain any sort of AC. 15 AC total My paladin also cant cast with her hands full. Most of her spells slots are going to smite. Shes still using the 1h starting weapon (1d8), starting shield, and starting armor. 18 AC total My tiefiling warlock is blasting things at an ok pace and range but her AC is pretty low 14 ac My bard is sitting at 17 AC as well. Mot of that is from rolling high on dex.
Im on the first gem quest after getting the crown. Almost everything is hidden in dimlight even though its on the edge of my opening up a boarded window. The boss fight was BS, The legendary actions everytime one of my characters got to do something and regeneration. I had to reload that fight 3 times to get through it. Once because the door closed and kept my tiefiling out. A second because my druid and paladin went down first, and finally on the third one I was able to start the fight at the top of the stairs and go towards the windows but didnt roll high for my init and lost my bard early on.
Any advice? I understand the system and how the rules go for the most part. It feels like the game is unbalanced against the party if every fight is in the dark and every one needs to either hold a torch (lose AC/shield) or have dark vision. I get that on my paladin if I can make it to level 7 but at 5 and a half, Im start to see why theres such a low % of early achievements being completed for this game. It feels like I should restart and roll a party of 2 paladins and 2 warlocks to blast, smite, and lay on hands my way through the game.

When I saw posts here. I really wanted to have a happy situation to tell. But as of 3 1/2 hours ago I got rejected. I'll start top to bottom of my day. But first Backstory. I've been loving the heck out of this girl since 7th grade and we are now sophomores. At the Beginning of Freshman year, I asked my friend who did have her number If I could have it. (I could at that point never have done it myself.) Finally last day of Freshman year I texted here saying
"Hey -----! This is ----, I got your number from a friend. Just wanted to say Hello! We've been waving in the hallway and such all year. But how's life going? How have you been doing this year? Anyways just saying hi right now and I hope to see you next year!"
I sent this May 26th and didn't get a response and I decided to make sure I had the right number even
Hey! it's me ----. Is this -----'s phone number? Just wondering.
Then about 4 hours ago I got a response finally.
Sorry, wrong number. Please stop texting this number.
My heart sank. I truly was in denial I went to my friend that gave me the number and I asked him Did I get the right number like is that ----- -----------'s number? and he said
"Yes it is."
And I just broke down crying I haven't done anything but sit in silence I don't think I've said a single word accept insulting myself while crying. I have been building up this day and putting many things of my very small attention size due to ADHD to the side for this and I'm just defeated... I don't know what to do. What doesn't help is that earlier today I put down my dog that has been in the family for 14 years (he was a 19 year old Labrador) I've known him all my life and I've put that guy down. I've known this girl since pre school and this relationship Is either put down or will never be the same. Idk what to do. I have nothing to support mey mom can't drive me to counseling and I will be working this year my family hasn't had a job in 7 years now so I have been carrying this household family friends bring me to the store and I grab items and soon that's gone cause I will have to drive. I'm crying and I don't know what to do. I need something out there I've got no one.

Forgive me if this has been previously presented - I scrolled through for a fair but, and hardly think this is a novel idea, but needed to put it down somewhere. Thereafe spoilers.Also, this is also really effing long.
How much of this is taking place in Misty’s head? It could be trauma related disassociation, or schizophrenia (though I am very hesitant to characterize the following as such) resulting in (repeated?) institutionalization in which she composed her “true crime” narrative as part of her “break”? Here’s why I’m wondering:

• Misty is a “nurse” - if institutionalized, she would be interacting with nurses throughout her day, and could easily create her identity/character through what she perceived as the duties of a nurse/caregiver given her limited day-to-day interactions - she never demonstrated any knowledge of actual caregiving other than basic first aid and crude understanding of treatment (I.e. chopping off a leg and cauterizing); we see her changing a bed and that’s the only time she is performing a “nursing” duty
• Further to this, there is no way Misty would have access to the medication she has, but is something that is prevalent in “true crime” narratives which she is obsessed with
• Misty’s ideation of an attractive millionaire who also happens to be a desktop detective (and an injured one at that - caregiving) who also happens to love what she does (musicals, etc) is unreal
• Misty alternates between protagonist/antagonist, seeing her through achievement and failure - all part of the heroes journey which, while she may not be aware of, is a common narrative arc
• The characters are ones familiar to Misty; people she observed who are largely archetypes (bad girl, nice girl, relationship drama) - that she went to school with, likely imagined the broad strokes of, but was never a part of - which, after her “break” allows her to create a world in which she is the main character, the one who propels a plot line which she “belongs” and is important and relevant - something she never was in high school
• At times, her narrative breaks, usually in situations which she has no experience or had previously observed (Shauna’s delivery, for instance)
• The love interest she has turns out to be homosexual - Misty has never been in a relationship and this is a convenient way to prevent her from construing what a “relationship” is in her imagined story, and as such (like I mentioned above) can further her plot line without having any experience of a real life relationship
• Shauna’s daughter is Misty idealizing what a daughter’s life would be like as part of this - a handsome man talking to her at a bar, drinking in the park after curfew, being let in on a secret murder by parents, a mother who engaged in a torrid affair with an artist (not some boring desk jockey), and the ridiculous imaginings of how an affair might be faked when Randy can’t “take care of himself” in the motel
• Walter killing a police officer and so easily blackmailing another is beyond reality, but makes sense in murder mystery fiction
• Cults loom large in true crime podcasts, as does sham wellness cures for, among other things, trauma, mental illness, etc. The curative methods Lottie offers (isolation/immersion pods, animal therapy) are commonly referred to and are trendy, and as such, easily imagined and preferable to what her experience was, which again is unlike what is usually reported; additionally, the therapy sessions characters (Lottie) participated in are all imagined ideas of what non-pharmaceutical therapy/psychoanalysis looks like; when a moment of authenticity is reached they suddenly are abandoned: they are largely driven by a need for dosage changes, which she would associate with her experience
• Lotti was institutionalized for schizophrenia but emerged “cured” (though she again breaks in the finale) - a situation Misty has experienced before and would be comforting to her character
• Non binary/trans/queecis fluidity shows Misty has not found a space for herself; the traditional cis relationship is unavailable outside of the one she creates with Walter; her relationship with Crystal/Kristen is threatening her previous cis identity and induced fear (thus the killing and disappearance); her performative acquiescence to Nat in the finale is her trying to redefine how she is creating a new identity that furthers her plot
• Tai happening to catch a ride after running out of gas is classic American story telling - arriving at a place that reunites her with a past love who also needs care continues the through line
• catching and kidnapping a journalist furthers her belief in the power and import of citizen journalists rather than MSM, and also protects her narrative
• her actions in the finale allow her to reclaim the narrative from a character (Nat) that is no longer useful and is threatening to her; Nat served a key plot line which portrays Misty as a sympathetic care giver (again!) but now can allow her to re-focus on a more compelling character and narrative

TLDR: the entire show is in Misty‘s head

330 then 210 now
Congratulations Everyone!

1. Knew I had to do this when my older brother died at 43, 425#. I was 40-325. Younger bro 38-300.
   
2. Fought the insurance battle, obtained policy covering RNY, started process.
   
3. 8-month pre-op was not an option, and that’s a good thing. Saw people sabotage themselves in pre-op, and they were dismissed. Others flunked the psych tests, demonstrated things pointing to high risk of post-op sabotage. Dismissed.
   
4. Procedure was as described. Comedian/anesthesiologist asked me, right before I entered never, never land, if I was aware that I would be lifted above surgical table, and turned upside-down during procedure! What???…never saw that joker again. Doc confirmed this detail later.
   
5. Weight loss was rapid and thrilling. Below 220 in 7 months or so. Learned important lessons for this first stage. Like (a) don’t eat raw carrots or celery, as these can conspire against you, weave themselves into a “mat,” and jam your hole. Rice can do this too—see funny anecdote below. Upward Eviction ensues. (b) [for the lucky people] don’t eat sweet, sugary stuff like ice cream, shakes, pie etc. Immediate downward eviction occurs [turbo-charged food dumping] it’s a race to the bathroom (c) Sushi and an ice-cold Ichiban. Sounds fab. Maybe not. Rice is starchy and clingy, beer is loaded with malt. Hmmmm. Imagine belching up (and out) an impossible quantity of rice-infused foam for an hour. Yup!Hint: Ditch the rice..eat sashimi. Maybe the beer too. If you are not lucky with auto-rejection of sweet/fatty stuff, look out! Stat away from it. Milkshakes are particularly troublesome. They liquify on contact with mouth, and there are no limits on quantity.
   

By the time you graduate from this stage, you will have your own set of rules.
At any and all stages, even 20 years down the road, BEWARE OF ALCOHOL. This was not discussed in my pre-op process. I’m guessing it is now. Alcohol can DESTROY you and your weight loss. Know this now. People who have never had an issue with alcohol can become dependent on it post-op. It’s a transferred addiction. Sugar in a different form. No one is immune. You, like me, may be physically unable to overeat, but there are no limits on liquids. I lost a lot of ground on this issue, but managed to gain control. Zero is my magic number when it comes to alcohol.

1. My brother. Same path, same successes and failures. Developed same alcohol problem. It killed him at 58.
   
2. Later stages. You’ll lose the “easy pounds” in stage 1. Going lower gets back to food choices and exercise. Gaining weight is common, so stay in front of it. If alcohol use sneaks upward, get in front if it. Maintenance is the drill forever thereafter.
   
3. Hope some of this helpful. Ask me anything.
   

Congratulations and Good Luck!!

Rep Earl Blumenauer is an out-of-touch dweeb for today's Portland. His continued pumping of cycling and transit and the "city that works" vibe just doesn't match how Portland has changed since he last lived here.
I get that he's an uber-wonk: but his sunny vision of how Portland is a model for the rest of the country has fallen flat. But does he know it? It feels like he's lost in a time warp, traipsing along to some mid-90s to 2000s PDX. Meanwhile, we're dealing with fentanyl, meth, crime, homelessness, trash, broken governments, terrible cycling infrastructure, a barely functional TriMet...
Scene: Earl visits his staffers in Portland. Some quotes from him:

• "Who's heading down to VQ before the Critical Mass swarm?"
• "Right on, I hear there's some amazing new microbrews at McMenamin's... let's hit them up before watching some C.h.u.n.k. 666."
• "Anyone up for a bike ride along the Esplanade after work? I heard they've added some great new art installations."
• "I can't believe how affordable homes are in Portland, such an ideal city for young families these days!"
• "Let's check out Powell's later, I hear their City of Books section really captured that 'Portlandia' spirit we all know and love."
• "We should volunteer at that new community garden downtown. It's right near a food cart pod I've been dying to try out."
• "I've heard great things about the 'Hawthorne district' these days!"
• "Renn Faire baby! I'm going to be dressed as a Portlandia bard!"

So I just started hormones last week and now I have this sinking feeling in my gut that I'm making this huge mistake. I don't feel trans, I know that but I do have this massive desire to be a woman. However, my biggest doubts are the fact that if I could live the same life I'm living now but as a woman and transitition, I'm in. However, if I continue down this path and then all of sudden this chill life I have starts to become harder, is it worth all potential new pain points of life? I don't feel like I feel trans enough. I have a therapist and I will definitely bring this up. I know it's not too late to turn back but the part of me who wants to transition is excited for the future. Scared but excited to explore this side of me who was trapped in there for so long. But is that side myself stronger than who I already am? I know we are one in the same but it feels like one dies in the end and I don't know what that means.
Obviously, I'm confused and lost on who I am or what is the right or the wrong descision anymore. These 3 months of the starting dose of pellets was my exploratory, feel it out phase but I have doubts. Other days I'm 100% on board but which one is winning?
Life is hard. But am I making it harder for no reason? Or for a reason I could live without? I just don't know if I am trans enough to have started hormones. I don't feel like a woman. I just feel like me. I have no idea what that means but I need to figure it out quick. When I tell close people, I say it with such confidence because I'm getting all this positivity and support it's infectious and feels good. But is that what I really want?!

I have a unique situation. A few years ago at the age of 30 I met my biological father. I moved across country from Michigan to Arizona to help him with his business and lived on the same property as him. Everything was going really good for about a year and a half until I started noticing someone was coming in my house and I started to put things together. I didn’t know anything about crafting or black magic or cults or anything like that before this but I came into my house one day and noticed the grate at the bottom of my fridge wasn’t on properly so when I went to put it on the right way and it fell off completely I noticed there was a thick layer of dust but there was very fresh drawings and markings written in the dust. I asked a friend if it was Mexican gang shit not knowing what was going on lol he immediately told me it was black magic and said someone was messing with my food. Its a really story to have to text but I’ll list some other things that happened and I’d like to know if anyone has any insight . I’ve done a lot of research since then and still can’t figure out what the intentions were. So for starters it was a little town about 30 minutes from the Mexican border south of Tucson . My “dad” had several people my age working for him and I believe now they were all in on whatever they were doing to me. At first I thought he wasn’t a part of it and his workers just wanted me gone but I’ll explain why I know he was definitely in on it. Some of the things I noticed are
-They used a wood burner tool or engraved symbols and faces and letters into basically everything wood in my house and around the property like on wood posts and stuff. The letters would be large and stand out by theirselves it would be L,B, and I think R. - would make a almost evil smiley face and I would take my pants off at night and lay them in my bed and noticed the face on my ass in gel pen. They were putting it on my chairs. - switched a black and white candle with one of their own. -the wiring under my fridge was in Arabic or reverse Arabic so I think -under my front porch I found a canoe made out of a large dead frog body. It looked like it was to resemble a boat at least -also under porch found a cutout or some type of homemade rabbit made out of plastic or paper and it had half of one of those plastic Easter eggs in its mouth like a rabbit eating it’s own child or egg or whatever . -dead cat in my car - dead cat in my house - I always slept on my couch but on my bed I noticed a very thin layer of candle wax had been poured on every crease in the mattress . If you look at a mattress you’ll know that had to take a lot of time and effort. -my dad insisted we didn’t need tack strips when we laid the carpet in the trailer and in the room I later found a blue steel razor blade and next to it the word MAD in pen or marker. -the only friend that kept assuring me I wasn’t crazy had a nice 2020 truck and text me one day and said there was blood all over his back seat . I doubt he did that to his nice truck . It looked like a murder scene and when I saw it I noticed the same markings and faces on the car seat and doors . Looked like it was with a pencil eraser . - there was a panel loose in my jeep by my left foot where a hood release is . I pulled it back a little and saw something . When I loosened the panel even more it was a Lego figure and his head rolled off . I know I didn’t put that there lol. - different color dirt than usual and pebbles under carpet in front of door and rubbed all over my jeep tire. Probably cemetery dirt I think .
There’s more but you get the picture. So also in my Jeep I had a tool box and in every drawer there was 6 small twigs in the shape of a U or 6 pieces of plants or flowers. On the outside the drew a few things but one was a stick figure being attacked by wolves . When I came back to Michigan I was attacked by two dogs and had to get 69 stitches . The wound and scar is in the shape of a weird smiley face.
I refused to drive the Jeep and had a rental car and some how fell asleep and was in a head on collision with a family of 5 . Everyone was okay some how. I was going 60 and didn’t have a seatbelt on . Woke up in the passenger seat and the door just opened up for me to get out. Not knowing anyone else I called father of the year to come get me. When we got in his truck he said oh if you were in your Jeep you would have died for sure.
We get back to the house and he wanted me to stay there instead of sleeping at my place next door. He had a 80 inch tv that was turned off so it was basically like a mirror. I’m watching him and his gf lay a mattress on the floor and putting sheets and blankets on it then I see his gf pull something out of a clothes hamper . I can’t even make this shit up . I saw a 2 foot doll wearing one of my shirts. And had strews all over the head . Attached to the screws was some type of string to resemble hair with ties or bows half way down the length . I know they were screws because he twisted a couple of them . Then he put it in a type of dresser thing with a glass door and rolled a rolling closet with clothes in front of it . I could have shit my pants . That was the last time I was there. I immediately told him I had to get my son something from Walmart and needed to go now so I can send it first thing in the morning. He took me to Walmart and I ordered a Uber . He was right next to me and wouldn’t leave my side so I made up the only thing I thought of and said I think his phone was making me sick , something about electronics and said give me 5 feet and walked outside. I get in the Uber and he almost didn’t see me but came up to the car hands cupped around his eyes looking in the windows and saw me. He told the driver I was mentally unstable, on drugs and if he left with me he’s calling the cops. I told the guy I just met this man that’s my dad,showed him my license and explained I ordered the ride I offered him more money and asked him to please go. He said he didn’t want any trouble and cancelled the ride. So now I’m outside of Walmart with the crazy person I call dad and he’s like wtf man you’re just gonna bail on me lol. So I just told him I saw the voodoo doll. He started going nuts denying it and making a huge scene. He never did admit it but he said whatever I think he was doing he was trying to help me. I called the kid Colton they had the blood in his truck and he came and got me.
After 4 years I still don’t know exactly what was going on. If anyone knows what might have been going on I’d like some opinions. Do you think they were trying to sacrifice me or initiate me or what?
One of his workers did drop hints or warnings when I would bing stuff up. He told me “your dad doesn’t work me alit around Christmas time” I was like uh ok and said yeah it’s orders from higher up . Then told me there was like 5 or 6 satanic cults right around there. I’ve came to find out he was telling the truth more than likely.
Thanks for reading. Love and light

Throughout ancient channels once used by the Dark Angels during the Great Crusade and Horus Heresy, a new message is broadcasted:
"My friends. My comrades. My brothers. The Imperium needs your assistance one final time. Though we are few, though we have been hunted by the Dark Angels for millennia, the Imperium, our Imperium, requires our aid."
"Despite our status as traitors, despite our status as heretics, our Imperium needs us now more than ever. Those who we thought would fight and die alongside us have left us to die in the dirt! To writhe as our enemies tear our flesh from our bones like mad dogs hungering for blood. Even our own Primarch has left us to die."
"Sons of the Lion. I know that this task is a daunting one. The day may come when the courage of men fail, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship but it is not this day. This hour, WE FIGHT! By all that we once held dear, I bid that we stand, men of the Dark Angels!"
"I am Master Osmadiel of the once-great Dark Angels Legion. I am one of you, my Fallen brothers. I bid that we stand, to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Emperor and to gain revenge against the ones who have wronged us. Rally at coordinates 154, 554. This is not over."
The message repeats.

In my story earth is fucked, they send a ship with people frozen into space to find a new world. A couple hundred years into the journey, something breaks and they have to wake up a passenger.
The passenger fixes the error and is refrozen. During the interaction between the ai and the passenger, the ai begins to learn about human interaction. Once the passenger is refrozen, it begins to crave human interaction and unfreezes and freezes humans to interact with and learn from them, to the point where it begins to think its human. It unfrezes people who live their entire lives with the ai and die aboard the ship.
It's just a rough idea but I was wondering if there are any books where the ai is the main character?

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

I have been wondering this for a while. Every single day, I wake up and ask myself why I am even here. Like, what is the point of me being alive? I know I am someone people hate, and I know why, it is because I cannot function socially, I never understand what is a joke and what is not, and the more I try understanding the more I hurt people. I am completely socially inept. I dont understand people. All my friendships have always ended in disaster, and they all ended with the other party realizing I was not good enough or I messed up the relationship one way or another. I don't know why I am living anymore, at this point it feels like it would be so much easier to just die, just so I don't have to wake up to those hateful faces every day. I am so done with everything, I feel like living is a waste.

The Campto is absolute garbage now. The bite does literally ZERO damage (that’s if it even lands). Trying to bite anything puts you in danger 1. Youre a Campto, you lose every trade. 2. On top of that your head getting hit gets you killed even faster! your hop ability is quite detrimental if spammed 4-5 times (you don’t need to spam it unless traveling) it’s a great tool for running away but you don’t even need to hop because you’re faster than every other dinosaur except struthi but struthi isn’t a threat because it’s just as bad as the Campto (Atleast it has bleed… if your willing to risk using it.) now possibly the most idiotic part of the new Campto… the useless out of combat one attack damage buff… on a Campto. The buff call is great! Unfortunately it’s quite pointless on a Campto because why group with a Campto when you could group with literally any other dinosaur that can help you in combat more than once every seven minutes (7 minutes is the call cooldown) and as stated above, the Campto dies instantly so going into combat is death. with that being said. I don’t know why the devs said “let’s take the worst dinosaur and make it worse.” But it’s quite depressing seeing as I am a Campto main and was really excited for the update because of the hopping. But unfortunately it was quite the let down about an hour after the update when I found out hoping is quite literally all the Campto can do now. (Side note, the Campto stam regain could be better seeing as running is all it has going for it) long rant short, they turned a reliable Dino that could safely distract and keep Dino’s in combat to… what ever the Campto is now. (I can’t even defend babies anymore because the babies are literally more useful in combat and I’d just add a trophy to the kos’ers slaughter) the Campto is quite literally a spectator dinosaur because the most you can do is WATCH other people play. Is there a current dinosaur that a solo player can use that’s similar to the old Campto? I’m upset but I’m probably gonna drop the Campto till they fix it. ;w; the glorious Campto has been slaughtered and I wanna actually play the game again instead of spectating.