I had a dream probably 12 years ago that I’ve never forgotten, during one of the darkest times in my life when I was scared I’d fail in life
The dream began in a volcanic Ashland where I was traveling with a ragtag band of refugees trying to escape some horrible volcanic event or maybe even super volcanic event, so we were all journeying through this grey valley flanked by ashen mountains with a few distant volcanoes, I was the leader of this group and they were depending on me to hopefully guide them to survival.
We came to a huge obsidian temple structure and it was built onto the valley wall so we had to climb it to ascend out of the valley, so we entered. But the building had an ominous energy like something dark was sleeping inside of it.
Part of the way up, a young boy in my group was running ahead even though I told him to wait and tried to run after him, but as happens in dreams my legs were like lead and I couldn’t keep up. I had this growing sense of dread.
Then the boy slipped off the edge over an overhang and as I looked down after him he plunged into a lava pool, burning to death. My sense of dread didn’t go away it only increased. Somehow I knew (maybe because it was a dream made by my own mind) that that wasn’t the only horror that awaited us in here, this place wanted all of us not just the boy.
That dread manifested as the boy came clawing his way out from the lava pit and let out a horrifying cry like a nazgul or a ghoulish undead, with his flesh bubbling and dripping off of his bones in places he began sprinting with inhuman speed back towards the entrance of the obsidian temple he had fallen from, right back into the entrance.
My band of refugees began panicking, torn between the anguish of watching the boy die and the horror dawning on them of what he had become- a monster- and why he would come sprinting back into the temple some floors below us.
We all heard the inhuman commotion as his undead body slammed into corners, so great was his speed, and we all realized rather abruptly that he was closing in on our group.
I urged the group to begin climbing the stairwells that wrapped around the precipices of this obsidian temple, up towards the valley wall. We had only one possible escape: somehow reaching the top and whatever salvation waited for us up there from the desolate volcanic wasteland and the undead monster that had once been a little boy. So we all begun to sprint, but we were slow.
some of the refugees had bags, some were elderly men and women, it began to dawn on me that we had no hope to escape as i heard the monster closing in from below. I turned to confront him, readying to fight with no weapons.
When he emerged he looked at me with his ghastly skull shining through his melted off face and he spoke and said "You did this to me so I will punish you by making you live while your people die." And he ran past me with superhuman speed and tore into my group, beginning to butcher these weak powerless refugees even as I tried to fight him, plead with him, even as I tried to urge them to keep running, he eventually killed every last one of them with his long ghoul clawed skeletal hands.
"Im sorry." i said to him. "Im sorry i let you become a monster." and he just smiled back at me and stepped off the ledge, plunging again into the lava, this time to rest eternal, but the carnage of my mangled people now lay all around me, and still the black obsidian stairway beckoned, leading up into the tallest passes of the ashen mountains where smoke and fog obscured the path, I had nobody left and nowhere to go but up.
So i went up. Up, up, up through winding valley corridors of sheer black jagged rockfaces, ascending thousands of steps until the atmosphere seemed thin and the night stars shone from above, the distant red glow of the lava flows fading to a dull reminder of the carnage i was leaving behind me.
eventually the climb slowed but the path continued and the stairs began to turn downwards, the rock walls opened up into a dusty grey plain of old ash that had blown here from distant eruptions in the ashlands below, but it was cold up here and dark, and the fog parted and i saw in the distance a structure, not ominous and unnatural like the obsidian temple but a human structure, a distant farmhouse, but I had a feeling when i looked down the winding stairs at this house like i was looking into the blackness of a night that has a rapidly approaching tornado, totally invisible, the sight of this farmhouse gave me a sense of existential dread greater than even the obsidian temple had inspired. But i knew i had to keep going forward anyways. So, with despair in every step, i put one foot infront of the next and kept walking.
As i approached the house I realized its scale, it was not some small farmhouse, more of a manse, and the stairs on this path led straight to its roof where the stairs that had once led down from its top were gone. There was only a gaping black hole in the roof, my only way forward was into this abandoned structure, so with a heart full of fear i lowered myself down into pitch blackness.
I found myself in an ash flooded attic full of furniture like old spinning wheels and some misshapen objects with soot stained sheets over them, the room was so very cluttered with dillapidated old stuff that i could hardly navigate it. I kept bumping stuff then I froze, because on thr far side of the room i saw a sillouhette standing motionless. A feminine sillouhette that seemed like it moved slightly as I brushed against an old desk, causing a noise.
As she reacted, she turned towards me and I saw her face, and her mouth hung open, her jaw split in two, one half dangling and the other holding a malicious grimace.
She moved like a squid striking out from inky blackness at its prey, lifting up off her feet and drifting rapidly to me, her mangled jaw soon centering around my field of view as her face filled my vision and she grabbed the sides of my head, talking to me
"You have to pay for what he did to us, you have to see it all"
And she entered me, i just remember at this point in my dream my vision was full of motion, like she had possessed me and was flying me through the pages of her own history book, in a misty ashen blur of colors and shapes i found myself chopping wood in a dark forest with green leaves around, when a rage filled every fiber of my being and i turned towards a tent, gripping my axe as i swung it through the fabric, turning it on my first wife (in my dream i understood this to be the vision of the woman's husband when he murdered her with his axe) and splitting her jaw and head open rather than any log
I was crying abd begging to be left alone and allowed to leave when we swirled back into the attic, and the ghost was standing right there with inhuman stillness, i couldnt look away from her mangled face as she said "now you know what he did to me…" and she slowly disappeared into a small mist
I was deeply disturbed and crying and disoriented as i looked around the attic and saw a small wooden panel with some grey filtered light showing through it and i went that way, but as i did another ghost of a different women, her neck angled violently screamed at me and grabbed me and possessed me, now I was her husband, the same man with his second wife wringing her neck as she turbed blue
In this manner a series of murdered women ghosts possessed me, forcing me to witness their deaths from the poijt of view of their killer, all killed by the same horrible man in different violent ways, in total 7 stories of 7 murders of 7 dead wives, and each one whisming me to another part of this forsaken farmhouse where they had lurked waiting for whichever man was unlucky enough to enter this cursed homestead
My experience dreaming this was mostly an unsettling amount of vertigo during the dream and images of violence and these ghastly faces of ghosts filling my vision before flying me to another room where another ghost would stand motionless waiting to possess me, the entire time i felt like i was crying and falling from a very extreme height
Eventually though the last ghost released me from her possession and i stood in the kitchen room where she stood with me, her face blue from drowning in a bath tub, and she smiled at mr and spoke more gently than thr others had, she reached to take my hand but when i flinched and screamed she dropped her arm back down to her side and just smiled sadly at me
"Thank you"
And she and all other ghosts were gone and it was just me alone in this forsaken manse's kitchen, and i heard a sound i never expected, trickling water. So i walked towards it and found a back door on the ground level which opened easily, and i stepped outside and saw some white, ash-filtered sunlight and a sight that took my breath away, about 300 yards away was a running river with lush green trees and plants and a thundering waterfall, and i knew that my trials had passed as i walked out towards the end of the ashlands with my boots squishing in fertile muddy soil, and i woke up completely drenched in a puddle of my own sweat

I went on a walk earlier today and was having a conversation that turned to the facets of success that the Zen tradition has over, well, everyone else. Here's me putting some organization to aspects of the conversation that we touched upon.

1000 Years of Recorded Conversation

This number is not an exageration or hyperbole, but a reasonable approximation of the longevity of the Zen conversation.
The earliest records of Zen conversation aka. Dharma combat aka. koans aka public cases we have come from Dunhuang and involve an heir to Bodhidharma named "Yuan" which places them sometime around the middle of the 6th century. Here's an excerpt:

6th Century

Dharma Master Chih saw Dharma Master Yuan on the street of butchers.
Dharma Master Chih asked, "Do you see the butchers slaughtering the sheep?
Dharma master Yuan said, "My eyes are not blind. How could I not see them?"
Dharma master Chih said, "Master Yuan, you are saying you see it!"
Master Yuan said, "You are seeing it on top of seeing it!"

The thread of Zen conversation continues on in these records. Some of these texts come from the conversations that dedicated record-keepers transcribed or unnamed Preceptors copied down and were later compiled. These records of Zen conversation were themselves annotated and conversed with by Zen Masters in subsequent generations thereby producing monumental books of instruction and practical guidance like Wansong's Book of Serenity, Wumen's Gateless Checkpoint, or Linquan's Empty Valley Collection.
Following the desolation and plunder wrought on by the Mongol invasion, the restrictive religious policies imposed by the Buddhists, and the subsequent rise of milleniarian cults with their own quasi-theocratic social agenda, the Zen conversation starts to fade in China.
We have records in China extending to around 1400. The aptly named translation by Cleary entitled "Zen Under the Gun" is evidence of this. The following is an excerpt from a Zen Master that came from Korea to study under a Chinese Zen Master and would carry on the tradition of preaching the Zen dharma to Emperor's.

14th Century

In 1347, on the sixth day of the third month, the emperor of the Great Yuan invited T'aego to Fengen, serving the Imperial Benevolance Zen Temple. After salutations to his majesty, T'aego went up to the teaching hall, pointed to the main temple gate, and said:
"The Great Path has no gate: where do all of you people intend to enter it? Bah! The universal gate of perfect penetration is wide open."
At the buddha shrine T'aego said: "Two thousand years ago, I was you. Two thousand years later, you are me. It has almost leaked out."
Then he bowed three times.

Almost.

1000 Years of Agro-Academe Egalitarian Communes

Agro-Academe

The Zen records are famous for taking place almost entirely on large agricultural complexes where agricultural as well as scholarly work were the lifeblood of maintaing the communities self-sufficiency. While this aspect of the Zen tradition had gone almost entirely unremarked upon in the Zen records due to its sheer normalcy it very much stands in contrast to the economic and social systems of organization that have risen (and fallen) throughout the rest of the world such as Manorialism, Serfdom, Capitalism, and Communism.
The agricultural aspects of the Zen communes are evidenced in the countless cases that take place in the context of the community engaged in performing agricultural work and the academic aspects of the communes are evidenced both in the cases involving someone reading something, referencing something they read, asking about something they read, as well as the countless literary and historical references that Zen Masters weave into the books of instruction.
The academic-LITERATE aspect of Zen communities has been deliberately misrepresented by Dogenists that cannot handle writing at a high school level about anything Zen Masters said despite claiming affiliation. It's a really sore subject for them.

Egalitarian

Zen Masters: No sexism. No racism. No special authorities in funny hats.
Foyan:

If one says, “I understand, you do not,” this is not [Zen]. If one says, “You understand, I do not, “ This is not [Zen] either. In the Teachings it says, “This truth is universally equal, without high or low—this is called unexcelled enlightenment.” My perception is equal to yours, and your perception is equal to mine.

Unlike religious traditions such as Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam (to name a few...) there is no tradition in Zen of affirming a belief in the "spiritual inferiority" of women or asserting that they should conform themselves to any fixed role in social relations with men.
The dharma-interviews involving women Zen Masters are some of the most intense and edge-of-your-seat one's out there. The one's we have translated records of are:

• Iron Grinder Liu
  
• Miaozong
  
• Mrs. Pang
  
• [Unnamed old women]
  

The failure of women's Zen voices to be preserved in equal proportion to their male counterparts they were engaged with is almost entirely due to the larger social mileau of sexism and erasure of women in non-subserviant roles from the public records that an extremely patriarchial society like China pursued with zeal at the time.

Commune

Unlike the phony kind of "work" of repeating religious apologetics, playing dress-up, or saying a few words over corpses that Priests while charging money from the faithful day-in, day-out--everyone in the Zen communities labored alongside everyone else and Zen Masters made a point of it to not exempt themselves from that.
The famous "No work, no eat" comes from Baizhang. It's nothing revolutionary in the context of Zen, but it sets the world on fire for just about everybody else.

Baizhang, the Chinese Zen master, used to labor with his pupils even at the age of eighty, trimming the gardens, cleaning the grounds, and pruning the trees. The pupils felt sorry to see the old teacher working so hard, but they knew he would not listen to their advice to stop, so they hid away his tools.
That day the master did not eat. The next day he did not eat, nor the next. "He may be angry because we have hidden his tools," the pupils surmised. "We had better put them back."
The day they did, the teacher worked and ate the same as before. In the evening he instructed them: "No work, no food."

1000 Years of Stability

As an undercurrent to the Zen conversation are certain...lifestyle choices...that everyone has to observe before they can meaningfully participate. They're choices that everyone already recognizes are necessary in certain contexts and lifestyles that are overwhelmingly associated with healthy outcomes in those observing them consistently. The undercurrent to conversation in Zen is known as the "Lay" Precepts.
Lay Precepts:

1. No lying
   
2. No stealing
   
3. No murder
   
4. No abuse of sex.
   
5. No intoxicating.
   

Observing this stuff won't neccesarily make anyone rich, famous, sexy, or funny. But that isn't anything Zen promises anyone to begin with anyway.
In their tradition, observing these kept the conversation flowing for a thousand years.
Why would anyone come to /Zen just to avoid talking about Zen?

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The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

Hail Brothers and Sisters!
I just finished a meditation session and I am wondering if you could help me figure out what the vision(s) mean. Note: I am aware that it is up to me to interpret as it is different with every person I am just looking for a external point of view.
The moment I started the temple automatically formed as the gods eagerly awaited me. Before I could ask anything I felt the a flap of wings behind me and the hand of Freyja. I felt the presence of every god and goddess in the room. I asked to see what is to come. As my fate is not my own and I am a mere reader of it. The gods showed a vision of me in a tank in a field looking down the sights and firing soon after the glorious Valkyries came and took me with no time wasted. I then saw myself amongst those in Valhalla feasting at a table. And not the tables of our brethren but the table of the Gods next to Odin himself. I also asked when the cycle of me messing up will stop and they showed a vision of me currently meditating. As I finished my meditation the statues of Odin, Freyja and Thor that I had emplaced at a specific location where moved closer to me. I then looked at myself in the mirror and I saw myself in a different light. I was surrounded by Valkyries with a raven on my shoulder with runic markings and Viking paint on my face. Then I heard a voice say 'Glory to the Aesir, Glory to the drengr of Ragnarök!' before it all faded and I returned to my normal state.
I know the gods are near me at all times as I see ravens everyday each deviating from their path to follow my direction of travel. As well as I had one land on my shoulder and look at me. I extended my arm and it jumped to my arm. Its talons in my arm yet not painful. In the distance I could see Odin looking in my direction and smiling at me.
I have a feeling that this vision is tied to what the gods have taught me in the past. They had mentioned and showed me a unspoken goddess named Ylva Odinsdottir. And in visions where I stood in Valhalla I was in the body of that goddess. As if they were telling me I am that unspoken goddess(for more context look at the other posts I have made).
I have really gotten into Assassin's creed Valhalla recently and despite it not being fully Historically accurate I have a feeling of strong connection to Eivor. As if I am watching myself. Some of the visions I am shown correlate a lot to what I see in the game. I believe the gods are trying to show me the truth of who I am not only in celestial realms but here on Midgard and what purpose I serve down here. Also another thing that correlates to the game is how the gods talk to me during the day. Time freezes and I get taken to a darken place with all that are around with Odin, and Freyja walking around talking to me about things. I notice that I am no longer in my Midgard form but rather in celestial form during these talks. Once they have said what they needed to time would restart and continue as if nothing happened during that time.
I appreciate any who answer and give their view on what I shared. I will take any opinions on what I said into consideration in the meaning of the vision and what the gods have shown.
Glory to the Gods! Glory to Valhalla! Glory to Midgard!

I've gone through multiple fashion transitions from goth, punk, street, prep/surfer, to western attire.
I found my home in western wear, and I feel confident in my boots, buckle, and cowboy hat while rocking denim jeans everyday, and a pearl snap for the office and a columbia pfg for the lake.
Though I still feel caged to express freedom, rebellion, and overall Americana in my work environment (which is where I spend the majority of my life in). I work in manfucaturing/industry and in a desk job. The attire is fairly casual, where "shirt must be a collar" ends at that. I COULD wear my columbia pfg's everyday since they technically have a "collar" but the vibe doesn't feel right so I settle for my pearl snaps. I keep my hair fairly "traditional" and I try my best to conform to Northern dress attire. I already wear my boots, buckle, hat, and jeans everyday but I feel like I'm pushing it.
I want a mullet, or a haircut beyond this boring fade that expresses the carefree rebellious person that I am. I want to wear my fishing shirts, flannel, and relieve the suppression of my country/western attire that I feel at work.
I want to walk into work as a cowboy hat wearin, mullet rocking, columbia and wrangler reppin, ostrich quill boots wearin' SOB because that is who I am, but I fear that it might signficantly delay/end my career.
BUT...should I do it anyway?
TL;DR: I feel suppressed in my work environment and I want to take the plunge to fulfilling my look to represent how I feel everyday. Should I do it or is there other ways to work around it while staying professional?

So I don’t really know what haircut I should go with. I normally do fades but I wanna do something different this time. Would hairstylists be upset if I came into the store asking for opinions? I’m very socially awkward and don’t really know what’s ok to ask and what’s not

I cannot seem to find anyone for less than $55-60 with tip for haircut (fade) and beard. I used to get a haircut every 2 weeks when it was in the $30 range but it’s getting out of hand quickly.

Somewhere in Apalachicola Forest;April 16th, 30XX; 1:08am.
The serene atmosphere of the forest and the occasional noises of the various forest animals was awkwardly soothing to the lone Disassembly drone strolling through the dirt trail. The last time she had been here was…. Was it fifteen years ago? Ten? She couldn’t remember the last time she had returned to this place. Before she became… What she became; the drone would frequent this spot with her friends. God, she missed them. The Floridia summer could be brutal at times, but the nights were like being splashed with ice-cold water after running a marathon in one hundred-degree weather.Going on long walks like these, it reminded the drone that she wasn’t just some bloodthirsty vampiric maniac (even though she kind of was at times). Nostalgia washed over the drone as she began to remember the rampant drinking contests, the drunken college student forest partying, and… The incident. The grief, the regret, the sorrow, the rage . The overboiling rage that erupted like it was Pompeii. She couldn’t remember much of anything of the night, all that she could try to piece together were small fragments of voices and sounds.
“ Come, as you are, as you were, as I want you to be…. ” The voice echoed, almost as if it was coming from someone else, rather than the drone’s own memories. It was masculine. Melodic, and soothing. “ C’mon, V! I know you sing the best out of all of us! Or are you too drunk to sing? ” Another voice. A feminine one. She carried a playful tone to her voice as she pressed on, her voice also echoed, like a phantom trying to speak to an old friend. “ You sang Nirvana pretty good last time. V? You okay? You look… Off. ” Then the vivid crack of gunfire, the taste of blood and synthetic flesh, then shrill shrieks that could haunt even the most demented, psychotic killer. V shook her head like a madwoman, trying to push the memories away, however faint they were. V grit her teeth; rubbing where her temples would be and snapping her eyes shut, trying to will the memories away in vain. Everything got louder, the calls of the animals, the shaking of the leaves, the cruel whistle of the wind. Tears pricked and burned her eyes, and V didn’t even know she was blindly running at full speed until she slammed into something, stopping the vampire in her tracks and setting the noise levels back to default. It was soft, something meaty. It flew through the air, landing a couple feet away from V.
Even though she had opened her eyes, V was blinded by a curtain of red.A thick vermillion that completely obstructed her view. V took a step back, then another. V swiped at her visor, trying to wipe away the blood and guts, and only managing to wipe away some. Her hands brushed against a slimy, skinny yet fleshy string, and it took all of V’s willpower not to double over and vomit her guts out right then and there. Who had she hit?! Were they alive?! Hopefully.I didn’t mean to . Just a couple of feet away from her, lay a body mangled and disfigured beyond physical recognition. It lay sprawled on the dirt, blood pooling out of its various wounds. An eye had popped out of its socket, and it lay just a couple inches away from the body, still attached to its nerve by some miracle. Blood was all over her. Crimson splotches were all over her coat, her face, her legs, everywhere.I didn’t mean to. Please, I’m sorry. Wake up, please.
Mud and blood mixed together as the body laid motionless. V silently begged it to stand up, for it to just somehow piece together its mangled body, and go about their business.

But that never happened. The body laid there, half-buried in the mud. Rain pattered down on the forest, wetting V’s silver hair, and further mixing the blood with the mud.

“ I push my fingers into my eyes… ” That was V’s own voice. It sounded like it came from the forest, just like the other voices. It sent a chill down V’s spine as the voice faded and echoed. In a split second, the body was gone. All of the bloodstains were gone, as if it had never happened. “ It's the only thing, that slowly stops the ache… ”
V once again shook her head, this time quicker and more intense before leaping into the air. The moonlight cast an almost demonic shadow over her as she spread her wings. The reddish-black, almost bat-like wings sprouted out of her back like a creature of the night as she took off, flying through the windy, biting cold nighttime Florida air at an unprecedented speed. The wind blasted against her face, almost causing the young drone to smash right into a pine tree, or a power line. A flash far too bright, and large to be from a camera blinded V. Instinctively, she wrapped her wings around her body as she hurtled to the ground. The cruel whistle of the wind was her only companion on the harrowing journey to the dirt.The ground rushed up to meet her quicker than she had expected.
They think they are invincible.They think they’re judge, jury, and executioner.They think they can do whatever they want, when they want, with no sort of consequence. They think they can tear apart families; without as much as a peep from others. They have taken everything from me. No. It’s nigh time for them to pay for what they’ve done. We are not lambs to be slaughtered. Food to be processed and feasted upon.

Jynx walked through the eastern gate of Qadar. She paused for a moment, expecting to see the rows upon rows of stone statues. Instead, she found a large colleseum. The statues each supporting a stone arch. She looked up at Shamrock. “Things change, even here. I suppose.”
Shamrock nodded. “That they do, but this is a more recent, and temporary change, or so I am told.”
“Good.” Jynx said. “I liked the statues. Reminds me of River.”
“For sure.” Shamrock said. “So, It’s your first time back in Qadar for a few hundred thousand years. Where to first?”
“Don’t we have somewhere to be?” Jynx asked.
Shamrock laughed a bit. “Karhma will wait.” Sham said. “Besides, the festivities won’t start for a few more days, we have pleanty of time.”
Jynx gave him a sad, hopefull smile. “Can you take me to visit the grave?”
“Somehow, I knew you were going to ask that.” Sham said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Sure.. Here we go.”’
The two simply vanished from the street in the morning light.
Following them through the gate, a group of eight walked through, earning hard looks from the Vanguard. Once in the city fully, the leader of the group stopped, and turned around looking to make sure they all managed to pass the gaurds.
“What is it, Father?” a young, perhaps twenty year old woman asked the leader.
“Just making sure your brothers don’t ruin everything.” He responded. “I’ve waited to long to enter this city, just to have one of them disturb my plans.”
The rest of the group gathered with no issue. The woman looked back to her father again. “Speaking of your plans, Father. What now?”
“It is imperative, that you all win the games.” He instructed intensly. “The Labyrinth is a treasure trove of powerful magic, and valuable artifacts. This is our best chance of getting a piece. The City Wayfinders are two distracted with these rediculous games to monitor the comings and goings of simple contestants, merchants and visitors. Otherwise, we would never have been allowed entry. Which makes it the perfect chance to complete my collection.” He straightened the cloak on his shoulders, and made a few minor adjustments to some small pieces of equipment on his person. It seemed these motions were almost unintentional.
“Father, Venriath Skyweaver has been dead for more than a hundred millenia.” The woman said. “You’re sure there is anything left? His grave would surely have been scavanged by now.”
The man gave his daughter a scathing look. “I’ve been collecting his artifacts my entire life!” He snapped in anger, but forcing himself not to shout. He smoothed the fabric of his cloak again. “I’ve collected his cloak. The one that denoted the First Skyweaver of Qadar.” He opened the inside of the cloak to show several wands. “I’ve collected one of every original wand he ever made.” He showed his belt. “This is Venriath’s personal component belt, as well as the last spell book he inscribed for his last student.” His daughter flinched as she caught a look of mania in his mind as he took her by the shoulders. “His Spell book? Nowhere. It has to be here. There are multiple accounts that mention he was buried with ‘His greatest treasure’. The Greatest treasure of any enchanter, is their spell book! Now, This may take a few days. You and your brothers only need to concern yourself with the Games. You must win. I will meet you in The Inn when I’ve recovered the book. Go now, and get yourselves registered.”
“Yes Father.” She said. She glanced over her shoulder, and gave her brothers a ‘Follow Me’ signal, as they headed toward the Colloseum.
The Father watched them for a moment, before heading toward the great silver fence of the Punishment.
****************************************************************************
Jynx and Shamrock appeared at the edge of a large lake, under the city. Even though they were distinctly under ground, the lake shone with the reflection of a full moon. Shamrock gave the moon a coy wink, and led Jynx through the nearby passageway. “This way.” he said.
“Was that Luna?” Jynx asked.
“Sort of.” Shamrock explained as she caught up with him. “The pool is a physical manifestation of the reflection of her power.” He said, then stopping and going over the words in his head again. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s what he said. Anyway, the way Karhma explained it was that, I can come here and communicate with her. It was placed here before I was a Prime. Now, I can go where ever, when ever. In fact, it’s not impossible to be in several places at once.” He scratched at his head. “Though, that’s a little tough, and confusing sometimes.”
“It’s not for everyone.” Jynx said, sympethetically patting him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t like that either.”
“Anyway, It’s not like we won’t see Luna soon. She’ll be coming with the rest tomorrow.” Sham said.
“Left here. Watch the floor, it’s spikey.” He lightly stepped through several flag stones, and reached down and subtly disarmed the trap. As several spikes slowly raised from the floor. Jynx stepped around them.
“Thank you.” She said. “So, I get that you can probably stay in the Dojo, but where is Luna, and everyone else staying? I mean.. Holy ground and all that.”
“Qadar is neutral ground.” Sham said. “Only the Temples are claimed. Those of us that helped build the city have free movement here.. Well, Mostly anyway.” He pointed to a right hand door. “Through there. Anyway, with all the people coming into town, I think most of us are staying with Karhma.”
Jynx nodded. “I assume I am too?”
“Yup.” Sham said. “Unless you don’t want to wear the disguise.”
“Disguise?” Jynx asked.
“We’re Here!” Shamrock said, opening a door. He waived his hand and the torches all lit in the very VERY large room. “The Skyweaver family Mausoleum. Well, the first one, anyway. You two were the first, so, you’ll be in the back.”
The two of them walked between rows and rows of stone sarcophagui. At the back, on a raised dais. Were two ornate Stone graves.
“Left, or right?” Sham asked Jynx.
“What?” Jynx asked, trying to read the inscriptions. They were simply too old, all the definition had faded, making most of the identifying words illegible.
“Was he buried to your left? Or on your right?” Shamrock reiterated.
Jynx stared at him with an ‘Are you kidding me?’ expression. “I dunno Master.. I was dead. By the time I was buried here, Venriath and I were already born out in the Emerald Coast.”
“Oh, Yeah.. Sorry.” Sham said. He lifted the lid off of the coffin on the right. “Nope.. That’s you.”
“How can you tell?” Jynx asked as they looked at the dust and bones in the coffin.
“Venriath was taller than that.” Sham said with a shrug. He pulled the lid off of the other grave. “Here he is… Oh, interesting.. What’s that glow? Do you know?”
Jynx looked into the coffin and smiled. Around the neck of Venriath’s skeleton, with a single hand covering it, was a small gentle glowing. Jynx remembered. “He made us these.” She reached into her own grave, and gently took an identical necklace out of her grave. Hers was not glowing. “It was to show us that we were still alive. No matter where you would send us.” She gently placed the gold chain around her neck. “He told me that if it ever stopped glowing, and I was in trouble, that I should break it.”
“What will that do?” Shamrock asked.
“I don’t know.” Jynx said with a shrug. “Venriath, Felix and Vyneran worked for a a week to make them. So, we can imagine that a lot of magic went in to their creation. Honestly, the fact that his still glows is impressive. I’m surprised it still has enough magic after all this time to read my vitals, let alone glow.”
Shamrock laughed. “Well, you know Venriath. Everything he did on purpose was build to last.”
Jynx laughed too, and she put her hand on her own necklace at her throat. “I miss you.” she said, with a small tear as she looked at his bones in the grave.
Jynx realized that Shamrock had stopped laughing. She looked up, hoping she hadn’t ruined a good reminiscing with her tears. He wasn’t looking at her with concern. His eyes were glued to the entance of the Mausoleum. “We’re not alone here.” He said to her. He raised his voice. “I know you are there. Why don’t you show yourself, and you can tell me why you’ve disturbed this place. I must give you compliments. That must be one heck of an invisibility spell, to trick my eyes at all.”
Melting into view, as a powerful invisibility spell was dropped, a large man appeared. Grey streaks showed in his dark hair, and neatly trimmed beard. Jynx glanced at Shamrock. “Master.. That’s Venriath’s cloak..”
“I know, Jynx.” Shamrock reached for the hilt of Clover. “State your business.” He demanded from the man.
“I’m just here as an observer.. A fan, of Master Skyweaver.” He said with a grin. “I wasn’t expecting tomb guards..” He said. Jynx and Shamrock noticed the man was beginning to grow into immensity. His face elongated and his teeth enlarged into pointed dagger like teeth. His green eyes grew, and the pupil changed to a draconic slit. “How entertaining.” His voice grumbled, now deep and sibilant.
“Dragon.” Shamrock noted to Jynx. “Really old one too.”
“I noticed.” Jynx said. “What do we do? I have my pistol.. but most of my toys are with my luggage.. at Karhma’s house, apparently.. With my disguise.”
Shamrock looked at the slowly changing Dragon. He saw the green scales, and could smell the acrid poision breath. He relaxed his hand, letting it drop from the hilt of Clover. “Nothing.”
Jynx gave him an incredulous look.. “What?!? Aren’t you the one always itching for a fight? There is an Ancient Green Dragon, equiped with Venriath’s gear.. That actually may be able to hurt you. And you saw we do nothing?”
Sham shrugged at her. “I’m just as surprised as you are. But, the gut is telling me, that if I don’t do anything, It will work itself out.”
Jynx looked back at the dragon. Now fully transformed and filling the large Mausoleum. It moved forward, slowly. Crushing some of the Sarcophagai under it’s clawls, she could see the venom dripping from his teeth. “Ok Master.. Enough fun.” she said, backing up to the wall and sinking down, crouching. She drew her revolver, and placed a hand over her necklace.
“I’m not playing.” Shamrock said, His stance was casual, and he watched the Dragon with interest, ready to see what would happen. “I’m serious.. If I do nothing, it will give us the best result. Wierd I know, but I’ve learned to trust the gut.”
Jynx glanced at Shamrock, and leveled her pistol, firing two shots. The dragon laughed as the shots glanced off a shield of force, eminating from his cloak.
“Ah.. Fuck it.” Jynx said, and she crushed her necklace.
*************************************************************************
The ancient elf puttered around his apartment. He watched the skiffs fly by, people off on there way to various corperate jobs, or just out on the town. He smiled enjoying the few minutes left in his morning. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and sipped, sighing with pleasure as he shuffled his way to his bedroom. He checked his watch, just a couple more minutes. He laid down in his bed, smoothing his sheets and adjusting his suit as he lay on his back. He looked to his end table, at a picture of his wife, who had passed some five years ago now. “I’ll see you soon, dear.” He said to the picture, as he made himself comfortable. He checked his watch again. Thirty seconds the timer told him. He had enjoyed his time here in The Expanse, but he was excited for another run through Rammanaria. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. His watch beeped, as his timer ran out. It was two or three days, before anyone had come. It was his Grandson that turned off the timer.
He opened his eyes, as he felt the shift. He had been through this before. Many times before. However, this time, was different. Usually, he would awaken in the quaint little resteraunt, “The Swans Littlest Parade”.. This time, He was out in the astral expanse, out amoung the stars. He looked around, and found his old friend waiting for him. “Hi Stabby!” He said, greeting the man with a warm hug.
“Hi Venriath.” Stabby said, hugging his friend.
“Where’s Jynx? She’s usually here waiting for me.” Venriath said, looking around. “Did she head on already?”
“Yeah.. In a matter of speaking.” Stabby said, awkwardly shifting his weight. “You seem to have your memories in order quickly this time. You sure you don’t need a minute?”
“No,” Venriath said. “I’ve found that the times when I accept what’s happening, it’s a much easier transition. I was super old this time anyway, so I was ready. How many times is this, anyway?”
“We’re somewhere in the two hundreds.. Maybe three. Sometimes you don’t survive through puberty.” Stabby said. “If you’re set then, Let’s get to business.”
“Are you late for an appointment? Usually there’s a dinner, some laughs before we get to the choices.” Venriath said. “I mean.. I know what I’m choosing if that will speed things up for you. Send me on to Rammanaria.”
Stabby looked at his toes.. “About that… Hehe..”
Venriath squinted in suspicion. “You’re a bit more awkward then normal. What’s going on? Am I not able to go to Rammanaria for some reason?”
“Oh no.. You can go..” Stabby said. “It’s just.. different set of choices than normal.”
“Go on.” Venriath said.
“So.. You can go and be born like normal.” Stabby said.. “Or.. Cause you’re a friend.. Umm.. Jynx broke her necklace…”
“You mean one of the decendants?” Venriath said. “Jynx and I have been dead for.. I dunno.. a couple hundred thousand years? She can’t have broken it.”
“Yeeeeaaahhhh.. So.. When She passed in your last life? Yeah, so, she was called by Shamrock to be his herald. So, she got her old memories and all that jazz.” Stabby shuffled uncomfortably again. “But.. She broke the necklace.. and the spell is active. This whole conversation is taking place in a Pico second.. but, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Send me to her.” Venriath said immediately.
“So theres a few things you should know.” Stabby said.
“Don’t care. Give me the highlights.” Venriath said.
“Cool.” Stabby said, handing Venriath a helmet and some goggles. “First.. This is gonna suck. There is a reason there is time limits on ressurection spells. Put these on.. You’ll thank me later. Second.. I don’t have the time to listen to your stories and record it for posterity this time.. So you’re keeping them.”
“Oh, of my past life?” Venriath asked.
“All of your past lives.” Stabby said. “So, you’re gonna have a migrain for a few days. But, with all that experience, you’ll be right up there with Felix.. You may even have a few tricks he’s never seen.”
Venriath considered that a win. Getting a leg up on Astarte was hard. “I’m ok with that.. What else?”
“Jynx is tied to Shamrock’s thread. And you will still be Sham’s avatar.” Stabby said. “That means.. You’re not going to be able to ‘retire’ again.. at least, not together.”
“That’s fine. After that first run, I realized that dying and the afterlife aren’t as cool as they are cracked up to be.” Venriath said, then remembering who he was talking to. “No offense, Stabby.”
“None taken.” Stabby placed a strange device on Venriath’s chest. “This, is just a little music for the trip.. It’s the Latest single from ‘Slashley and the Red Crayon Raiders’ out from Port Sparx.” He reached up above his head, and pulled a glowing green thread from nowhere, he took the Spirit thread from the back of Venriath’s neck. “Last thing..” He said as he tied the threads together.. He held out the remaining length of Venriath’s Spirit thread… “How old do you want to be? Remember, this is Venriath’s old body.. so.. Elf..”
“I know.. Umm.. I would say.. 140 years?” Venriath said. “I was really good looking at 140.”
Stabby cut the spirit thread. “Ok.. That will do it. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Venriath settled his helmet on his head, and lowered his goggles. He took a deep breath. “Hit me.” He said.
Stabby reached out, and pressed the play button on the device on Venriath’s chest. “Ok.. Warning, you’re going in hot. Big Ancient Dragon. Good luck.”
“Wait, What?” Venriath asked.
Stabby smiled and gave the green thread a little tug, and let go.
https://youtu.be/zEIaVvy73Is
Venriath screamed as he was yanked by the back of his neck off through space. He narrowly dodged asteroids, he could feel the heat of passing stars. He passed over the Toblerittles system in the center of the expanse as he careened through nebulas. After another couple of seconds, he passed over the lights of Port Luna, and then felt himself start to pull apart as he passed in between several black holes. He began to hurtle toward Rammanaria. He could see the headlands, and simply dove head first directly into Qadar.
************************************************************************
The Dragon inhaled deeply, ready to spray his breath and fill the room. He paused as one of the Sarcophagai burst into emerald flames. A Skeletal hand reached out of the flames, and made a motion. Suddenly the dragon’s mouth was held closed. Flesh began to coat the hand, and to the Dragon’s surprise, a healthy young Venriath Skyweaver stepped from the Flames. “So nice of you to bring me my things.” Venriath said to the Dragon.
He spoke a single word, and he was suddenly clad in his gear, The Dragon now stripped of his collection. “As for threatening my wife? I’m sorry.. I simply cannot have that.”
Venriath quickly crafted a simply zypher cube around the dragon’s head, and cast a single razor. The Dragon’s head fell from it’s neck, thudding into the floor. As the neck began spewing blood all over the room.
Shamrock looked at the shocked Jynx.. “See.. I didn’t have to do anything.”
Venriath turned and swepth Jynx into his arms, kissing her soundly. “Sorry I’m late. I need a drink.”
*************************************************************************
Felix poured over the plans. He frustratedly ran his finger through his hair, and rubbed his eyes. He heard his door open and someone step in. “I don’t suppose you know how to power a healing matrix for two weeks, without using blood sacrifice?” He asked out loud, not caring who it was.
“You could always use diamonds.” a familiar voice said. “If you link the matrix to a central location, you could simply add new diamonds as the originals are used.”
“Yes Venriath.. I know that, but we don’t have that many diamonds.” Felix said, looking up to see Venriath pouring a drink. He suddenly went pale, realizing that Venriath had been dead for eons.
Venriath walked over to Felix’s cabinet. He placed his foot against the bottom, and tapped the drawers in a specific order, then turned around, placed his back against the corner of the cabinet, and used his elbow to pop one of the drawers. It slid open, revealing hundreds of Diamonds..
“Looks like you have enough to me.. “ Venriath said, sipping his drink.
“But.. but.. bu..” Felix trailed off as he looked as his dead friend.

Hi everyone,
25M, Historically I have had thick dense hair that grows back very quickly, think needing a haircut every 3-4 weeks to maintain my hairstyle because it grows back so fast.
The past few months I’ve been trying to grow it out and keeping it longer to have a more medium length pushed pack look but I’ve noticed a concerning increase in hair in my hand when I wash/shower. The first time I run my hand through my hair I have noticeable hair on it then the remainder of the shower it lessens to what I consider a more normal degree. Separate from that the texture feels like it’s just generally thinner and less thick but I can’t tell if there’s been a lot of changes because it is longer than usual and it’s just dark brown/black so hard to see through.
Should I be concerned about early stages of hair loss with the perceived change in texture and increase in hair loss in the shower or when applying hair pomade? Separate I wanted to go back to a shorter length think light side fade and pushed up on the top/front, is this a bad idea if it is thinning?
Thanks for any advice.

Never had a barber haircut before, my hair grows fairly quickly. How often will I need to go to maintain it. Any input from your experiences would be great.

There are so many different ways to write a poem, here are five examples of these:
1. Haiku - Melancholic Murmurs
Autumn leaves whisper, Sorrow blooms in muted hues, A heart's quiet ache.
2. Free Verse - Aetheric Yearning
In the vast expanse of unspoken desire, We dance on the edges of ethereal fire. Emotions like nebulae, elusive and bright, Lost in cosmic drift, a celestial flight.
Tethered to longing, a magnetic pull, Words falter, emotions in a cosmic lull. Silent echoes of stars, distant yet near, A celestial symphony we strain to hear.
3. Sonnet - Lingering Regret
As shadows lengthen, regret takes its stand, A haunting melody, played by Time's hand. Echoes of choices, etched on the soul, Fading into dusk, an unspoken toll.
In the waning light of moments untold, The heart carries burdens, heavy and cold. A sonnet of sorrow, written in tears, Lingering regrets through the passing years.
4. Psalm - Joyful Resonance
In the cadence of joy, a sacred hymn, Harmony of spirits, a light within. Praise rises like incense, to the divine, A symphony of gratitude, in every line.
Sing, oh soul, in the temple of elation, Dance with the cosmos, a jubilant sensation. In the sanctuary of bliss, we find our way, A psalm of joy, guiding each new day.
5. Haiku - Ethereal Serenity
Moonlight bathes the night, Serenity's soft embrace, Peace in quiet breath.

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him.
Wren’s body was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred skin.
I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes.
Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself.
I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake.
But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls. There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania.
I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside. In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. Charlie, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

I was doing quest to rescue esbern and i just had constant bugs whith this particular npc ,first when i entered sky temple Delpine wouldnt walk throgh the staircase and so she wasnt starting conversation with Esbern ,i went put waited 24 hours went back and quest went as normal ,than i have to find an elder scroll and optionally i could speak with Esbern or Arngeir and here it goes when i approached Esbern he would just say "you need to speak up im a little bit deaf" and no dilogue would pop up than i fast traveled to high hothgar (as i tryied Esbern multiple times) ,the whole screen whent black ,
this is not only issue with the dialouges i got another was when i couldnt buy vigilance becouse option wasnt showing ,and a lot of times i have to restart game if i want my followers to "wait here" becouse the dialoug3s not showing ,i can drop my LO ,but i got around 270 mods the next mod i install will swich off mod at the bottom of my LO ,
im thinking could this be caused by gdo and skyrim reputation ? I got both of them (skyrim reputation 40 mb version i belive thats the updated one) honestly i done that quest it took couple restarts and i wasnt able to do it through Esbern bur what is the couse of it ? I havent had many problems before i started quests with the blades
Edit: here is my LO
USSEP
SIMPLE WORKAROUND FRAMEWORK
REALISTIC EQUIPMENT - AE
JUST SHIELDS (ON BACK) - AE
EXTRA RANKS FOR AUGUMENTED DESTRUCTION PERKS
COMBAT REGEN TWEAKS
QOL AND BUG FIX COMPILATION
GUARD DIALOGUE OVERHAUL (XB1)
SKYRIM REPUTATION - MYSTERIOUSLY FIXED, PATCHED & IMPROVED
SKYRIN REPUTATION MFP& COMFIGURATION MENU
TK INTERFACE OVERHAUL - BETA
ELDEN SCROLLS UI
TAOS: THE ART OF SMITHING (XBOX ONE)
SMITHING XP
INCREASED MINING
DISPLAY ENHANCEMENTS (XB1)
[XB1] DYNAMIC CAMERA
[XB1] RICH MERCHANTS OF SKYRIM SPECIAL EDITION
SMART NPC 0OTIONS - ENEMIES USE POTIONS AND POISONS
HAND PLACED ENEMIES - MORE POPULATED SPAWNS DUNGEONS AND POIS
ENEMY REINFORCEMENTS (FIXED)
ARCH ENEMIES - DIFFICULT BOSSES AND UNIQUE ENCHANTMENTS
REAL BOSSES
REAL BOSSES - HARDCORE
THE SWORD OF THE DAM***
BLEACH ZENGETSU ALL FORMS 1K
TAOS: EXTRA CRAFTABLES (XBOX ONE)
CRAFTABLE UNENCHANTED DAEDRIC ARTIFACTS
CRAFTABLE CROSSBOWS AND BOLTS - STANDARD VER
CRAFTABLE CHARACTER GEAR XB1
SICARIUS ARMOR - BLACK VARIANT
REINFORCED EBONY ARMOR
CONTRACTOR ARMOR 1K
ELEMENTAL VISION OF SKYRIM - CRAFTABLE
DAEDRIC CLOAKS
WEIGHTLESS
WEIGHTLESS DRAGONBORN
WEIGHTLESS HEARTFIRE
TRUE MASTER TRAINERS
[XB1]TRAINING LEVEL LIMIT
TRAINING DUMMIES AND TARGETS [XB1]
MAGIC SCALES WITH LEVEL
VORTIKAIS DRAGON ASPECT TOGGLE - MAGIC AND SHOUT BUFFS
GRAPPLING SHOUT
KAIOKEN SHOUT (GOKU VOICE)
UNLIMITED WEREWOLF
WEREWOLF - POWER
[XBOX ONE] WEREWOLF PERKS EXPANDED
SIMPLE WEREWOLF ABILITY BOOST [XB1]
VAMPIRE LORD OVERHAUL: 1K KYNREEVE RED GLOW ARMOR NEW HAIR RED RUNES
ARCANE ACCESSORIES ABSORB & VAMPIRE TWEAKS [XB1]
VAMPIRE LORD - INVENTORY, FLIGHT, AND 60 PERKS
TREEBALANCE - COMBO PACK [XB1]
SHOUT PERKS
EXTRA POWERFUL MARKSMAN PERKS XB1
[XB1] FISTS OF STEEL - ADDITIONAL RANKS FOR THE SISTS OF STEEL PERK
IMPROVED MAGIC [XB1]
POWERED DESTRUCTION [XB1]
AUGMENTED DESTRUCTION
PHENDRIX MAGIC EVOLVED
YS SPELL TWEAKS
ENHANCED NIGH VISIIN SPELL TOME (XBOX1)
VAMPIRE SPELLS
[XO] VAMPIRIC DRAIN RANGE
BETTER VAMPIRIC DRAIN
PHENDRIX DEAD THRALL
GROUND DRAGON - DRAGONREND SPELL
LEVITATE SPELL - SKYRIM
DECAPITATION SPEL
WOOD'S SPARK OF DESTRUCTION
ONE HANDED MASTER SPELLCASTING SE
DRAGONBALL TRANSFORMATIONS PACK
DRAGONBALL SPELL PACK
[XO][VO]VAMPIRIC DRAIN DESTRUCTION NOVICE AND XP FIX
HOLY WARDS BY BANJO BUNNY
DRAKONS WARD ENCHANTMENT
BATTLE WARDS - WARD WHEN YOU BLOCK!
SKYLAND BITS AND BOBS - CLUTTER OVERHAUL
SKYLAND AIO
DAVES UFHD MOINTAINS
SMIM CHAIN MESHES ONLY
NORTHERN ROADS 1K
NORTHERN ROADS & BLENDED ROADS PATCH
DIVINE TEXTURE PACK - TREES
DIVINE FORESTS
DIVERGENCE - LUXURIANT 2 - PLANTS - PERFORMANCE
VEYDOSEBROM - GRASSES AND GROUNDCOVER - NORMAL VERSION
LANDSCAPE FIXES FOR GRASS MODS
NORTHERN ROADS & LANDSCAPE FIXES FOR GRASS MODS PATCH
JUST ICE - 1K
BETTER DYNAMIC SNOW V2.11(SMIM)
NORTHERN ROADS & BETTER DYNAMIC SNOW PATCH
IA92'S REALISTIC RAIN (XBOX1)
REALISTIC CLOUDS - IMMERSIVE EDITION
SUPREME AND VOLUMETRIC FOG [XB1]
SKYLAND ENCHANTING TABLES
DIVERGENCE - BLACKSMITH - 1K
DIVERGENCE - THE PHILOSOPHERS PROPERTY - SPELL TOMES - 512
RABBIT AND DEAD HANGING RABIT REPLACER WITH FEED RABITS
ANIMATED FORGE WATER ( NORMAL VERSION) BY WSKSKEEVER
NO SUNLIGHT THROUGHT MOUNTAINS
SPARKLING TORCHBUGS
NARUTO ULTIMATE OVERHAUL
CBBE (CURVY)
BETTER MALE PRESETS [XB1]
LOVERBOY DEFAULT 1K
(BLACK) EYEBROWS BY DDSWORKSHOP
SUPERIOR LORE FRIENDLY HAIR
NINETIETHTRAINS KS HAIR PICKS
AFT AE
REMOVE FOLLOWER LEVEL CAP
DIVERGENCE - VANILLA + CREATION CLUB - AIO - 1K-512
DIVERGENCE CUBE MAPS
BLACK AND GOLD EBONY ARMOR RETEXTURE (XB1)
BLACK AND GOLD EBONY WEAPOS (XB1)
COIN POUCH RETEXTURE - BLACK
LANDLORD [XB1]
WEARAVLE LANTERNS [XB1]
IMPROVED UNIQUE ARTIFACRS [XB1]
IMPROVED DAEDRIC ARTIFACRS [XB1]
EBONY BLADE USELESS NO MORE
DIVINE DAEDRIC DAWNBREAKER (RED GLOSSY WORDING)[XB1] BY LUPUS HEGEMONIA
IMPROVED DIVINE AMULET AND BLESSING
DIVERSE DIVIBE AMULET AND ENCHANMENTS
BLACK LEATHER SEATH - A LEATHER SEATH REPLACER
GENUINE GIANTS
DIVERGENCE - COMPENDUM OF BEATS - ANIMUCULI - 1K
LUMINOUS ATRONACHS
TOUGHER NAMED DRAGONS
ERSO ENHANCED MIGHTY DRAGONS - NIGHTMARE VERSIKN
GAME OF THRONES AND HOUSE OF THE DRAGON - VANILLA DRAGONS REPLACER - 1K -512
GOT HOTD - DIVERSE DRAGONS 512
[XB1] GOT HOTD - OPTIONAL FILE "BLOOD MESHES HIDDEN"
GOT HOTD - SKELETAL DRAGON AND UNDERSKIN 1K
[XB1] HOTD - GOT SKELETON EDIT VERSION 2 ( BIGGER HEAD)
[XB1] DRAGON ANIMATION REPLACE SE - WITH STANDING BREATH OPTION
HOTKEY CONTROLLR - UPDATED (BY DADDYMCHUGENUTS)
A QUALITY WORLD MAP - CLEAR MAP SKIES [XB1]
PASTEL MAP MARKERS [XB1]
SUMMER MYST - ENCHANTMENTS OF SKYRIM [XB1]
SUMMERMYST ENCHANTMENTS CHESTS
[PATCH] SUMMERMYST (ON BACK AND ON LEFT)
FORTIFY DESTRUCTION ENCHANTMENT
SUMMERMYST - LEVELED LIST FIXES
SUMMERMYST ENCHANTMENTS - GUARANTEED LOCATIONS
VAE3 - VISUAL ANIMATED ENCHANTS 2-023
VAE2SUMMERMYST PATCH
PARAPHERNALIA REALISTIC MAGIC (NO GRAVITY)
IMMERSIVE SPELL EFFECTS EMIT LIGHT
3D CASTING FX - FIRE AND FROST HAND FX REPLACER BY ARCTAL
VISUAL MASTER SPELLS
STRANGE RUNES LITE
REALISTIC AI DETECTION LITE [XB1]
IMMERSIVE RAGON SOUNDS -IDS- (ENIGMA REMASTER)
SAO- BATTLE MUSIC
SEKIRO SOULS SFX
AIRGETLAM -MODERN MAGIC SOUNDS REWORK-
LEVEL UP IN SILENCE
REALISTIC WEAPON PLACEMENT (CLOAD EDITION)
VISIBLE FAVORITED GEAR
SKYSA - OLIVER KENJUTSU
SEKIRO COMBAT S - WITH ENEMY COMBAT INTEGRATION
GDB ANIMATION PACK (EDGEMASTER-MAIN)
GDB ANIMATION PACK (VIKINGS)
GDB ANIMATION PACK (SEKIRO)
DYNAMIC COMBAT FOR SKYSA
SKYSA DUAL WIELD AND PARRYING SIMPLIFIED
CINEMATIC DRAGON SOUL ABSORPTION -(NO SCREAM/FLOATING ANIMATION)
NEW ANIMATION FOR MAGIC CASTING SSE
SMOOTH SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER (UNARMED)
SMOOTH JUMP ANIMATION REPLACER
SMOOTH SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER (DUAL WIELD)
SMOOTH BOW SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER
SMOOTH BLOCK ANIMATION REPLACER
SMOOTH SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER (GREATSWORD)
SMOOTH SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER (WARHAMMEBATTLEAXE)
SMOOTH SPRINT ANIMATION REPLACER (1H)
VIOLENS - A KILLMOVE MOD SE [XB1]
AMAZING RACE TWEAKS! NORD [XB1]
THE UNKNOWN
SUPER FAST GET UP ANIMATION
SNIPER - ADD DAMAGE BONUS
BNP WEREWOLF EYES - BLUE
ENEMY HEALTH INDICATORS
[XB1] SUPER SIMPLE LOCK BASH
REALISTIC CONVERSATIONS ( XB1 )
FAST TRAVEL TO CITIES FROM START[XB1]
INSTANT FAST TRAVEL
NO PLAYER FALL DAMAGE
NO STAGGER WHILE CASTING
DUALCAST REBALANCE [XBOX]
DRAGON SOULS TO ATTRIBUTES XB1
10 HEALTH PER LEVEL (XB1)
PERK POINTS AT SKILL LEVELS 50-75-100
PERK POINTS AND MORE GOLD FOR BOINTY QUESTS (XB1)
FAST BEAST PERKS XB1
50 PCT MORE PERK POINTS [XB1]
PERK POINT AWARDS
SKILL INCREASE STATS - UPDATE
QUEST AWARD PERK POINTS
[XB1] TRULY ABSORB DRAGON SOULS - HEAVY BY ADVENTURERX
VANILLA - MESSEGEBOX FIX
PICKPOCKET 100
ITEM SORTING
GRITTY PALADIN POTION
WARBIRDS DRASTIC DRAGON LOOT
MORE LOOS [XB1]
CIVIL WAR CHAMPIONS CLOAK FIX
ACTIKN BASED PROJECRILES + AE PATCHES
[XB1] PROPER AIMING
NORMAL MAGICA REGEN IN COMBAT
IMMORTAL DEAGONBORN
FAIR DRAUGIR SHOUTS
DRAGONS USE THUUM
DRAGKNS USE THUUM SHOUT REMOVER PATCH
Q DAY DRAGON RESPAWN
BIJIN AIO
BIJIN AIO & USSEP PATCH
ARVAK ENCHANCED [XB1]
MEEKO AND VIGILANCE ARE HUSKIES
WOLFES OF SKYRIM
DRAGONBORN CASTLE
TNF SKYRIM HOUSE REMODEL
[XB1] NO WORLD BORDERS
LESS INTERIOR FOG
DRAGONS FROM THE START
ELEMENTAL FURY FIX
DBZ TELEPORT
[XB1]UNLIMITED RINGS AND AMULETS
UNLIMITED SHOUTING (XB1)
UNLIMITED SUMMONS
ENLIMITED ENCHANTMENTS
ALL ARMOR LOOTABLE
NO HELMET REQUUIRED(XB1)
FASTER WEAPONS
FASTER GRATSWORDS:ANNIVERSARY EDITION (XBOX)
FATSER TWOHANDED WEAPONS AND WAR AXES AND MACES
[XB1] RING OF UNBLOCKING
HATS HELMETS HOODS AND HOODED ROBES WITB CIRCLETS
CLOAKS FACE MASKS AND ALL SPRTS 2 * FANS EDITION *
IMPROVED CLOSEFACED HELMETS
IMPROVED CLOSEFACED HELMETS - USSEP PATCG
IA92S ENCHANTING WITHOUT RESTRICTION (XBOX1)
FROST SLOW TWEAKS BY RAFEAR
DAKEN'S YUMMY DRAGON HEARTS
DRAGON SOULS HEAL YOU
POPPYLORS INI TWEAKS FOR SERIES X
TEMPER EBONY BLADESKYLAND LODS
[XB] GOT DRAGON MAON MENU REPLACER
LOOKS DONT CHANGE FOR A VAMPIRE
CHEAT ROOM (XB1)
CHEAT ROOM -ANNIVERSARY PATCH
MYTHICAL AGES (V1.10)
MINTYS LIGHTNING DURING STORMS
MYTHICAL AGES MINTY LIGHTING STORM PATCH
NO CAMERA FADE
REMOVE BLOOD FROM SCREEN
DISABLE SCREEN SHAKE EFFECT
NO TINT ABSORB XB1
NO RADIAL BLIR - PERFORMANCE OPTIMIZATION ( XB1 )
EMBERS XB BY MINDFLUX 1K
CC CAMPING - EMBERS XD PATCH
ANIMATED WATER FORGE (NORMAL VERSION) - EMBERS XD PATCH
EMBERS XD V 3.0.1-CC GOLDENHILLS PATCH
ALTERNATE START - LIVE ANOTHER LIFE
NORTHERN ROADS & ALTERNATE START PATCH
OPEN CITIES SKYRIM
NORTHERN ROADS & OPEN CITIES PATCH
REALISTIC WATER TWO BY ISOKU, SPARROWPRICE, &TECHANGEL185
REALISTIC WATER TWO & SAINTS AND SEDUCERS PATCH
NATURAL WATERFALLS
CUMULATIVE BLESSINGS
COLORED.MAGIC AURAS

This is an issue I’ve seen with men’s hair. I’ve been using the same hair combo for 3 years and decided to change it up this year but unfortunately the hair catalog is absolute shit.
I’ve been trying to find a hair that matches my hair irl (basically a 90s middle part cut that fades from brown to platinum/blonde). It’s not that hard/rare of a design to create and I can’t find any hair that looks like it. I tried to make it with blonde + brown hair and it totally clips through my hat. All I see is generic shitty emo haircut #91882, all of the hairs these days cover up my avatar’s eyes which is really annoying. Most of the hair is made for headless + UGC faces (which have big ass foreheads).
First of all I am not paying $200 on headless just so my hair can look good on a roblox game and second of all most UGC faces are over realistic makeup or anime shit. I’d rather stick with Roblox’s faces
I know some D1 glazer is gonna be in the comment section talking about how “the catalog is better now than it was 3 years ago“ and that “I’m an ungrateful shit” for wanting variety
but seriously I can Roblox at least add an update where we can at least move/size our hairs. I know any other type of accessory would lead to bypassed avatars but you can’t go wrong with hair right?