#i wish the smoke had turned out better here but my disappointment with its illegibility is cancelled out by how happy im with how croc look

[slydiddledeedee]

worst coworking relationship in the world

[eldritch-fr-ideas]

Uh huh, sure Kir, there was definitely something chasing you down in the Shrieking Wilds, we all believe that!

[Oh, shut up, I wasn't imagining it!]

{Ok, but have you considered that you totally were?}

(You do imagine everything under the sun...)

You know, if you guys want something really scary...let me tell you the story of Ascua.

~~

Ascua was my hatchmate, see.

Not in actual genetics, but our original lair had a habit of gathering up eggs on their lonesome, and we hatched on the same day, nearly the same coloring, although completely opposite eyes- my water to his fire.

But we hatched on the same day, and we grew up together, so all in all we just called ourselves hatchmates and that was that.

{Come on, get on with it, get to the scary bit.}

Oh, come on, let me have my buildup. Would you rather Ascua was some random stranger?

("Was"...did your hatchmate die?)

I'm getting to that, Rolla.

But for the record, no.

~~

So. Lets talk about the volcano, shall we?

You all know our Great Furnace, yes? Well, we lived- not in the furnace, our clan wasn't nearly renowned enough for that- but in the Blacksand Annex, where land is sculpted by every dragon's whim, and it's therefore such a beautiful chaos, to know how many clans reside there is almost impossible. Right easy to get away with not paying our dues, or to steal from another clan.

{Holy shit, Verre committed crimes.}

No-

That's not to say that anything we did was illegal, it's just that we all only bothered to keep track of coin or custody once or twice a year, when the forgemasters deigned to descend upon us and take the best of what we made. It was just...easier to not, with the smoke, and it's not like we were ever scarce on anything that way.

{It's still stealing, even if its consensual!}

That is not how that works.

~~

In any case, it was on one of these such days when our story, proper, takes place. The forgemasters had come down from their Great Furnaces to collect what they thought theirs, and, well, me and Ascua had gotten it into our little heads to go hide from them. We were, what, a few months old at best?

This happened long before the Rebellion started burning, of course, and our overseers were not nearly so strict, nor the Furnaces closed, and the two of us had witnessed the sort of chaos the Annex was thrown into the entire week before, over who owned what and what dragon belonged to which clan, and it had...well, it had made us a bit nervous, about why it all mattered.

If even Tegere, who was this great big guardian who kept us safe from harm, was worried, what horrible beasts these masters had to be!

They weren't, and aren't, of course, just dragons with power, but we were young and foolish and thought everything was dangerous.

(Sounds familiar.) 

[Hey- shut up, ok!?] 

(Mmm....no :)

So we decided to hide. Our little minds thought that, well, if all the horrible forgemasters were down here, none would be up there, and so... 

We flew up. 

~~

The smoke was particularly thick today, and none saw us leave. 

No one would have stopped us if they did, too embroiled in their own troubles. 

And so up, and up, and up we went.

Nothing stopped us.

Some days, I wish something had. 

~~

We went up, and then we went down. 

Down, down, down to the great bellows in the earth, into a place that dragon-made machine could never hope to tame, where we must build enormous contraptions just to give us breath, and then even deeper, where that machinery had not yet reached. We got hopelessly turned around, jumping at every sizzle of smoke, and then we found our way again. 

It turns out that we somehow made our way into the volcano through a passage that doesn't exist on any map, that doesn't exist at all. But that was only obvious after the fact, when I went back to check, to make sure what I experienced was real, and couldn't find the entrance I went into. 

In the Great Furnaces, there were dragons, proud smelters and workers, but none of them noticed us, careful not to say a word, make a sound. They were too focused on their work, and the pounding of the enchanted hammer was already far louder than our footsteps. 

But beyond that, below, there was not a soul but the two of us. 

And, in all honesty, that was far more frightening. 

The caves down here were not lit by anything but the free-flowing lava, the blood of Sorneith. Shadows flickered, and smoke burned our lungs. 

And still, we kept going. Our footsteps did not echo, the sound taken by the pumice beneath us, around us, but we did not speak. 

We just kept going.

I don't know why.

I don't want to. 

~~

Ascua was fire, and I was water, and our matching slate-grey colors were a natural camouflage against the rock. 

But for all we matched, we had our differences. Ascua was far more certain, far more...driven. I was reserved. 

And so as the smoke became thicker, and the air became thinner, and we still kept going deeper, and deeper, I think something shattered, for me.

Like glass. 

I wanted to turn back, and I told Ascua so.

He did not listen. He did not even hear me.

I wasn't afraid enough to turn back, and so with him I went, but now, there was hesitation. 

And, now, I knew that something was watching us.

~~

I didn't know what that something was. Even now, I'm not really sure. But it was bigger than the volcano it "lived" in, if such a thing could ever live like we do. 

It was not a person, nor a monster. It was greater than all of that. It saw more than any of us would see in a lifetime, and it had no need for eyes or blood or flesh or skin. 

It had no need for a mortal mind nor a physical body. 

It had such a thing anyway, in the volcano. It was... 

Trapped. 

~~

We descended deeper. There was no sound. The stone turned red-hot, burning our feet, and still we went deeper. 

I looked at Ascua, and I noticed that there was something wrong with his eyes. 

They were too bright, and there was nothing behind them. They did not move at all, fixed on a point I no longer saw. 

And I wanted to turn back,

but there was no point, 

because all at once we arrived at the end of the tunnel.

~~

There was a cavern

Its ceilings were as high as the sky and you

Could barely see the walls

Veins of magma trailed along the cavern

On the other side of it there was another tunnel going deeper down

Everything burned, red hot, and I blinked to keep out the smoke

I had not blinked the entire way

But now I did

Imprinted on the back of my eyelid I saw

Something much larger than I

It paid no mind to the dragons in the Furnace, those forgemasters that

Had driven us down here in the first place

For although the volcano was a part of it

It was not a very big part

And it did not care whether every dragon on itself lived or died

Though every dragon was on its skin

And the Pillar of the World could crumble to dust if it shifted

Though cared not about it

All it wanted was to be freed

And the two little specks that had made it just a little deeper into the vast creature

Might be a start

So it beckoned us to keep going

To free it from its bindings of fire and earth 

~~

I didn't go. 

~~ 

Ascua did, and as he did, he burned, and his eyes set alight. 

I still have scars, from when I touched him, tried to pull him back. 

And as I ran, and abandoned my brother, the great enormous thing at the heart of the world was...disappointed in me. 

It let me leave, for there was nothing I could offer, and it would not care whether I lived or died. 

Better than having its attention on me, I thought, 

And I ran up, and up, and up, 

Although as far as I ran, I knew I could never escape

The vast body of Sorneith. 

~~

(Kir, are you alright?) 

[Wh-]

[Oh, yeah, sorry, I just...swore I...nevermind] 

{What, imagining things again?} 

[N...no, I definitely...] 

I- Shit, if you're actually scared, don't...don't pay this story any mind, ok? 

It's just a story.

You're safe here.

------

hi its prophet anon again the premise for this one was "u know shadow and arcane and ice and water are really easy to eldritch horror but u know what? no, im going to eldritch fire. take some dragon ocs and the concept that the world is incomprehensibly vast" 

The narrator is Verre, and they look like so: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=1487467

Ascua looked like so (although who knows what he looks like now): https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=1487468 

And the 3 other side characters are Kir, who is in [square brackets], Rolla, who is in (parenthesis), and Fonen, who is in {squiggly brackets} 

This snippet was a lot more trope-y i think, but tbh i managed to write a first person pov without hating it so we'll call that a win

----------------------------------------------

We forget what lays beneath. We forget what came before.

Even the gods fear something, no matter how much they hide it, and it will always come to light...

[ill-skillsgard]

Okay, I love a little angst, and I could see Faust visiting Faith at work and some prick keeps flirting with her and she’s very oblivious and doesn’t realize it. Or she has a tutor for college, and Faust walks in on him teaching her something, but the guys clearly flirting with her. Or lastly, her father setting her up with a family friends son who’s picture perfect and Stan making Faith go out with him for the night. But all these scenarios lead to a good banging lol.

Warning: 18+ anti-religious/anti-Christian themes/angst etc. **jealousy, angst and possessiveness in this part**

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke with a sharp intake of air. She glanced at the digital clock on Faust’s desk through misty eyes and paled when the late morning hour came into focus. She was due to meet her father in twenty-five minutes, and he expected her at the campus—not a half-hour bus ride from her dorm in an area of town known for its street crime. Even if Faust borrowed his roommate’s car to drive her, she wouldn’t have time to shower and dress before her father arrived.

A text from her dad warned of his impending arrival. She should have known better than to spend an entire Saturday evening humping her boyfriend, or at least set an alarm to wake up with ample time to get back to her dorm. In her panic, Faust woke up, looking ruefully unconcerned while she rushed to get dressed.

“What’s your deal?” Faust grumbled as Faith slipped on her black tights and lilac blouse, a worried expression on her face.

“We slept too late! My dad’s supposed to pick me up at school in like twenty minutes!”

Faust rolled onto his side, propping his head on his elbow as a dreamy smirk snagged his lips. Faith clicked her tongue. When it came to disappointing her father, Faust had nothing but encouragement to give, but his playful stare could not snuff her genuine panic.

“You won’t make it to school on time. Why don’t you just ask him to pick you up here?” Faust suggested.

“Hell no!” Faith exclaimed. “You don’t realize the amount of shit I’ll be in if he finds out I spent the night with you. Premarital sex is... No, I just can’t.”

Faust rolled his eyes. “It’s not like he’ll kill his own daughter.”

She rolled on one sock, then the other, grimacing when she noticed one was on inside-out. “You still don’t realize that he can and will pack up everything and move us away. Or he’ll make me go to a different school next semester. Trust me. You don’t get how strict my parents are. They’ve already made me read several pamphlets from church about the sin of fornication.”

“Well, clearly, you’ve learned nothing. We fornicated all night, babe. I fornicated all over that shirt, too,” he snickered.

“Faust! I’m serious. Now is not a time to joke. Wait... What?” Faith stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at her top, gasping. “Oh my god! There’s cum all over me! I’m so screwed.”

He got out of bed and went to the low-boy, pulling open the third drawer while Faith panicked.

“I am literally covered in your jizz! Why did you have to blow on my shirt?” Faith groaned.

Faust stifled a laugh as he pulled out a black t-shirt from the drawer. “Babe, you’re the one who wanted to suck my dick first thing after you got here. I can’t be responsible for where my unborn children go to die. Maybe you need to catch my loads a little better.”

She scoffed then scoffed again when he held up a faded t-shirt with a macabre design on the front and an illegible logo cresting the imagery. 

“Wear this,” Faust offered.

“I can’t wear that in front of my dad. What does that even say?” Faith asked.

“Obituary.”

Faith shook her head. Faust shrugged and stuffed the shirt back into the drawer before grabbing a different one. “How about this? No pictures on it or anything.”

She grimaced again. “It just says Death. I’m going to church, Faust.”

“All right, all right. Give me a minute,” Faust said, rifling through another drawer.

The phone buzzed in Faith’s hand, warning her that time was running out for her to make herself presentable and come up with an excuse as to why she was nowhere near campus grounds. Faust pulled out a plain black t-shirt, offering it to her with round, sympathetic eyes.

“Will this work?”

She took the shirt and gulped. “It will have to do. It’s still all black, and my parents won’t be happy.”

Faust nodded, seeming to understand her predicament. “Why don’t you say you’re sick?”

“The only time I ever got away with missing church was when I had Chicken Pox,” Faith said.

“Say you have too much work.”

She frowned. “There’s never an excuse large enough to appease them. I appreciate the suggestions, but I’d rather you just help me with a plan.”

The man towering over her nodded, turning to select his outfit for the day. “I’ll take you to the diner down the block. You can say I picked you up for breakfast.”

“I’d rather not tell them I was with you at all,” Faith said as she gathered her purse and stuffed her soiled blouse inside.

“Ouch,” Faust flinched.

“I’m sorry... That was rude,” Faith replied, covering her mouth for a moment, eyes wide. “You’re right. We should do that just to make it look like I didn’t spend the night.”

Faust ducked into a dark long-sleeve shirt, pulling his black hair out to fall over his shoulders. “Might want to wipe the dried cum off your chin then.”

When Faith slid her fingers through Faust’s as they walked down the street, his grip fell limp. He stared ahead and didn’t take any casual glances at her. In fact, Faust had been silent since they left. Worry piled on top of anxiety over what she would tell her dad, and she dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, counting the cracks as they walked. She doubled her steps to keep up with Faust’s until they reached the front doors of the quaint diner he and his buddies went to after nights of partying and hungover mornings. He let go of her hand and stepped away from her.

“See you later,” he said, spinning on the heel of his boot.

She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait! You’re not even going to kiss me goodbye?”

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket bemoaning the gesture. “Wouldn’t want your dad to catch you kissing your boyfriend.”

“Faust... Please. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He snorted, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “If that’s what you think.”

His pointed response stung, but Faith wouldn’t let him walk away without addressing the tension. “Seriously... I’m sorry. I wish you understood how hard it is for me to navigate this. You think I’m exaggerating when I say my father will stop paying my tuition and make me go to a different school, but I’m not.”

“No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do,” said Faust, inhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. “You just let them run your life.”

Heat built up behind her eyes. She took in a deep breath and sighed hopelessly. “I don’t have the income to be independent. It’s not as easy as you think. Not for me.”

Stan’s car pulled up at the curb, and Faith’s heart dropped. Faust glanced at the vehicle, then back at Faith fidgeting with the hem of the black t-shirt he gave her. He nodded toward the street.

“I should go before your dad gets the wrong idea about us.”

“Faust—” she whimpered.

“We’ll talk later.”

Faith hurried to get into the backseat of her father’s car, staring out the window as they drove off and passed Faust on the street. Her mother sighed and shook her head.

“Smoking is a disgusting habit,” she muttered.

Faith’s sisters stared at her from their seats, then looked away when she met their eyes.

“What?” Faith asked.

“You’re in trouble,” one of them sang.

Stan glared at his oldest daughter in the rear-view mirror. He didn’t keep his indignation quiet for long. “Since when is it okay to wear all black in the house of Christ? We’re not attending a funeral, Faith. We’re going for worship.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was the only clean outfit I had. I haven’t done laundry because I’ve had too much schoolwork.”

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time with that man, you’d have a proper outfit to wear on Sunday.”

“That man is my boyfriend. Am I not allowed to ever fall in love? It’s not like you and mom didn’t date before you got married.”

Reneta continued shaking her head. “Your father was a respectable man. He didn’t smoke and listen to evil music.”

Faith scoffed as her sisters listened with wide eyes and mischievous smirks. “What are you talking about, mom? You had nothing but nice things to say about him when he came over for dinner!”

“He was our guest, and a lady is always a kind host.”

“So, you don’t like him either?” Faith asked.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I said. I just wish you would find yourself a nice boy. One who knows the importance of God—”

“If I smell smoke on you or catch you making a mockery of His word, I promise on His good name, I will make sure you never see that boy again,” Stan vowed.

Faith clammed up. Though she had plenty to say, she knew better than to push her luck. Her sisters whispered next to her, but Faith ignored them too. She fished her phone out of her purse and sent a text message to Faust.

You’re right. These people are fucked. I have to get away.

The service dragged for what seemed like hours, and when it ended, Faith was eager to leave. But instead of piling into the car to go home after the last prayer, Faith waited as her family mingled with others. As a revered minister of the church, Stan often welcomed conversation from those who sought his guidance and blessings. She sat in an empty pew, sighing with impatience as the churchgoers waited their turn for a private conversation with her father. 

Faith peeked at her phone to see if Faust had replied, but the message remained unopened.

Though he hadn’t said much that morning, she feared her err had caused Faust to reevaluate his interest in her. A troublesome mass weighed in her stomach. Texting him again might result in him dubbing her “clingy,” Faith decided, so she turned off her phone until it was time to leave. 

They piled into the family car and turned down the road in the opposite direction of the school campus. When Faith noticed, she perked up in her seat. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“We’re having the Esders family over for dinner this evening,” said Stan. 

Faith tried not to voice her displeasure, but nothing prevented the furrowing of her brow. “Well, that’s very nice, but I have to go home to work on my paper.” 

Stan glanced back at his oldest daughter. “Your home is under our roof. And you can spare a few hours for your family.” 

“Dad, I can’t spend the entire day doing nothing. It’s due tomorrow!” Faith whined. 

“I won’t hear anymore, Faith. Bobby is your age, and you’ll be kind and cordial.” 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about? You want me to spend time with another boy?” 

“Faith, you’re helping host the Esders’, and you will be on your best behaviour.”

Faith kept to herself during dinner, helping set and clear the table, answering questions with curt replies, and after dessert, she stepped onto the veranda to call Faust. The line rang and rang until it cut off. Faust didn’t have voicemail, and he still hadn’t replied to her message from earlier. Dejected, Faith sighed as she looked out over the suburban street, the stained glass crosses hanging in bay windows and wind chimes tinkling in the cool breeze. The sound of footsteps rounded the corner, and she turned to find Bobby Esders approaching. 

“Hey, Faith. What’re you doing out here all by yourself?” The flaxen-haired boy asked. 

She forced a brief grin and leaned against the handrail. “Being by myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted. I was getting sick of all the church-talk in there.”

Faith nodded. “Same.”

Bobby tucked his hands into the pockets of his beige chinos. “I noticed you haven’t been to group in a while.” 

“I have a lot of schoolwork. It’s a little more important than making arts and crafts and babysitting kids while they cry over which Veggie Tales movie to watch.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Bobby snorted with amusement, stepping up to the handrail beside her. “So... What did you do all Summer?” 

The only voice Faith wanted to hear was Faust’s whispering in her ear, gently poking fun at her, calling her babe and stating interesting yet useless facts about his favourite bands and horror movies. Though she was polite, she turned to Bobby with a tight smile and sighed impatiently. 

“I don’t know... Stuff? What everyone else does during the Summer.”

The boy accepted her response with a solemn nod. Bobby Esders was not oblivious. He sensed her discomfort and unspoken need for solitude the moment dinner began. With a nod, he backed away. 

“Well, I hope you have a good night, and good luck with your schoolwork.”

Faith frowned. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t be so short with you. My parents have been treating me like a child lately, and it’s getting on my nerves. I should be studying, but instead, I’m here—” 

“Pretending like you give a shit about church?” Bobby said with a secretive smirk. 

“Um... Well, yeah,” she replied, blushing. 

Bobby chuckled, maintaining his distance but relaxing his shoulders. He was tall like Faust, with zero body fat, bony arms, and a mop of blond curls. Faith hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to Bobby since joining the church, but she always smiled at him when they passed in the corridors. He was pleasant and had one of the best singing voices in the congregation. His parents were wealthy business owners who donated large sums to the church and took a liking to Stan the moment he commanded the podium for his first service. Since then, Faith’s parents cultivated a friendship with the Esders family. Faith even heard them discussing how perfect it was that the two respective families had a daughter and a son of the same age, as though it was some kind of miracle. She dreaded the day Stan might suggest she try spending time with Bobby. And perhaps if she had never met Faust, she might entertain the idea of Bobby courting her, but that chance was long gone. 

“Don’t worry, Faith. I might look like a goody-two-shoes, but it’s just the clothes my parents make me wear for church. I don’t really buy into any of this bullshit either.”

Stunned by his admission, Faith tilted her head as Bobby’s expression turned sly. 

He continued. "And I know what our parents are trying to do with us. They’re trying to play matchmaker like it’s the eighteenth century or something. Trust me; I wouldn’t be out here bothering you if your dad hadn’t encouraged me. I can tell you want to be somewhere else, and I don’t blame you."

Faith looked up at him with a growing appreciation for his honesty. His bluntness still took her back, but she smiled with relief. 

“Well, I appreciate your observation. My dad doesn’t seem to realize that I’m a person capable of making my own decisions.”

“I’m in the same boat. Do you think I want to spend all my free time doing church stuff? Right now, my friends are at home playing Call of Duty together, and I’m here, pretending like I give a shit about this stupid religion and all its oppressive rules.”

“Wow. I never pictured you as anything but...” Faith trailed off, flushing pink.

“But a Bible-toting nerd? Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Reneta called for Faith from the side door. She sighed, smiled at Bobby again, and smoothed her hands over the black T-shirt that still smelled like Faust’s bedroom. Bobby stepped aside, motioning for Faith to go first before he followed.

Faith turned on her phone after she collapsed in her bed in the corner of her dorm room. To her shock, Faust still hadn’t answered her message from earlier. She called him, but the line rang until the call dropped. Fighting back an onslaught of burning tears, she rolled over, stuffing her face under her pillow to absorb the sounds of her whimpers.

She worked an evening shift at the bookstore the next day. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided that morning if Faust didn’t want to answer her, she wouldn’t press. If he couldn’t accept her apology and saw silence as an acceptable form of punishment, then she would return the favour. 

However, by the time Faith made it halfway through her shift, her heart had grown twice as heavy, and she longed to hear Faust’s gravelly voice more than ever. She ducked away for a minute here and there to stifle her tears, returning to the floor with watery eyes and a sagging expression. Even her boss noticed her sunny disposition trampled upon by something she refused to disclose.

The only relief she found was when Bobby Esders strolled into the bookstore, surprised to see her working behind the counter, sorting discarded books to return to their proper shelves.

“Faith! I didn’t know you worked here,” Bobby said with a broad smile.

“Yeah, I started here in the Summer,” she replied, returning the grin.

“This is my favourite bookstore. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before.”

Faith forgot her melancholy for a time. With twenty minutes until close, she focused her time on helping him locate a copy of a novel he’d had no luck in tracking down. He purchased the book and offered to wait until Faith punched out to walk her to the bus stop. Her first impulse was to decline, but Bobby was too kind to allow her refusal, claiming he was going to the same stop, and he might as well accompany her there.

The last thing Faith expected to see was Faust parked outside of the mall’s entrance, leaning against the side door of his friend’s car, waiting. She flashed a concerned look at Bobby, who stared at the leather-clad man with a touch of disdain.

“Oh, that’s um... That’s my boyfriend,” Faith pointed out as Faust glared ahead.

“That’s your boyfriend? That mean, scary-looking dude with the hair?” Bobby scoffed.

By the time Bobby took another breath, Faust had launched forth with long strides, clearing the cobblestones in a second. His glare burned hotter as he approached them.

“Who are you?” Faust asked Bobby with an air of mocking disinterest.

“Uh—”

“This is my friend from church,” Faith stepped in. “His name’s Bobby.”

Faust narrowed his eyes on the man who was only an inch shorter than himself. “Your friend, huh?” He asked.

“Faust, don’t start. He was just walking me to the bus stop.”

Bobby took a step back, relinquishing the closeness with Faith he had enjoyed for the last half an hour. He’d heard stories of Faust and his buddies, as they had beaten up and antagonized his friends throughout high school. Anyone associated with the church was subject to the circle’s cruelty, and despite Bobby’s size, he was no exception.

“I don’t want to see you sniffing around my girl ever again, you got it, bible-beater?”

Faith frowned as Bobby cowered from Faust’s smouldering contempt. She pushed on his leathered arm and stepped between the two men, glaring up at Faust with her own scorn lighting her features.

“Stop it, Faust! He didn’t do anything. We were going to the same stop, anyway. Stop being such an asshole!”

Faust pushed his jaw forward, swiping his tongue over his teeth as she challenged him. He’d never seen Faith look so angry, and though she was laughably small in comparison, her scowl was enough to make him take a step back.

“Let’s go, Faith,” he muttered.

“No. I’m not going with you. I’m going home,” Faith refused.

“Fine, I’ll drive you,” he insisted.

“No! I’m taking the bus. You can’t return my messages or answer your phone when I call? Then I don’t need your help getting home.”

The city bus pulled around the corner, rumbling to a stop at the depot to pick up the people leaving the mall. Bobby watched, frowning, then looked back at Faith.

“Sorry, Faith. I have to go,” Bobby said.

Faust sneered. “Yeah, get lost. She’s fine.”

“I’m leaving too,” Faith said, turning, shouldering the strap on her purse before stepping away.

Before she crossed the road, Faust stepped in front of her. His expression softened when he noticed hers hadn’t. Faith was angrier than he thought. When he showed up to intercept her, Faust assumed she would drop everything and run into his arms, happy to see him despite the tension he’d allowed to rise. But her disgust was potent. She wasn’t about to be pushed over by his feeble attempt at soothing the situation.

“Don’t,” Faust punctured his firm stance as Bobby crossed without her. “Please.”

“Why would I go with you? You’re not even nice to me. I tried texting and calling you, but I guess you were too busy doing your own thing to care.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you pissed me off!” Faust hammered. “That whole ‘I don’t want my dad to see us together’ was a real dick thing to say.”

Before Faith launched another complaint, she closed her mouth and looked to the ground, then back up, glaring harder. “I said I was sorry. It’s not like you haven’t said awful things before. The only difference is you never apologize for them. I’m just expected to accept your unsolicited opinions about my life and my family.”

Faust offered no rebuttal. The couple stood staring at each other until Faust relented, scooping his hand into her hair to kiss her firmly. He hated that she was right, and he refused to admit it out loud, but the kiss acted as his justification. 

It wasn’t good enough for Faith. She pushed him away.

“You can’t just act like a total asshole, then kiss me and expect it all to be okay.”

Faust rolled his eyes to the darkening sky. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. An apology might be a good start.”

“Why would I apologize for you pissing me off?”

“Apologize for making a scene in front of my friend. Apologize for not answering me. Not accepting my apology when I had the maturity to realize I was wrong.”

“All right, well, I’m sorry. Happy? Now, let’s go.”

“No, Faust. I don’t think we should hang out tonight.”

Her refusal hit him hard. Faith always jumped at the chance to spend time together, so her steadfastness came as a shock. His shoulders slumped as he sighed.

“Please,” Faust said.

“Why? You seemed happy ignoring me yesterday.”

“I wasn’t happy. I was upset. What you said really fucked with me. Now, I’m over it, and I want you to spend the night.”

A flicker of sympathy sparked in Faith’s chest. She noticed his green eyes reflecting something she had never seen in him before: sadness. Faust reached out for her hand, and she stared at his outstretched palm, heart aching. Maybe what she said had hurt him more than she realized. She always figured Faust was above such emotions, that the only passion that lived inside of him was menacing anger that only came out when somebody threatened him or his territory. The regret tugging at his mouth proved her theory wrong. 

She took his hand and he pulled her close. Streetlights illuminated as the parking lot emptied. Stars poked through the violet sky in clusters. They stood wrapped in each other’s arms for a minute before he held her out before him, staring into her eyes beseechingly.

“If you really don’t want to come over, I’ll take you back to your dorm.”

Faith shivered. When Faust noticed the goosebumps on her arms, he let her go and shrugged out of his jacket. Underneath, he wore a black t-shirt with a severed head spewing forth a waterfall of blood and entrails. The carnage spelled out the name of a band whose logo was utterly unintelligible. She smiled as he swung the heavy leather jacket around her so she could push her arms through the sleeves. The hem ended at her thighs, and only the tips of her middle fingers poked out from the armholes, but it was comfortable despite being several sizes too large for her body.

“Fine. I’ll come over. But I wanna have sex, and I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Faith—”

“Those are my terms. I don’t want you to treat me like a little flower. I want to fuck... hard.”

Faust snorted, biting his bottom lip as he rolled his eyes again. He placed his hand on the leather at her back, guiding her toward the car. “You might regret that request, you know.”

Faith smirked. “We’ll worry about that in the morning.”

[suitablysublime]

Your Majesty,

I will be waiting on the summit of Skranglmopp Bluff between one and two o’clock on the third of October. Bring whatever force you require to feel safe, but please come—we have much to discuss.

Yours faithfully,

Madara Corogarde.

—

Percy has often heard the phrase against one’s better judgment, and she never understood it until now; as she climbs the steep and winding trail to the top of the bluff with one eye on the skies in case of bandersnatches and the other on the very long way she will tumble should she slip on the loose sand, she tells herself again that this is utter foolishness and braces herself against one of the stunted trees growing out of the ridge to keep her balance while she steps over a spur of rock jutting into her path.

Silent distance has suited them fine for more than a decade, and Percy doubts any good will come of breaking it now; but somehow she cannot bring herself to turn back, and so she climbs. Against her better judgment, she climbs.

Soon the steep trail crests the bluff and disappears into the sparse, wild grass growing over the top. Here and there are more of the stunted trees, and a half dozen squat boulders scratched and scored with bandersnatch sigh. Percy’s heart clenches with a melancholy nostalgia as she follows the gentle upward slope of the ridge. How many times did she hike this way with Madder, both of them laughing and happy and so hopelessly in love?

Hatter waits for her at the summit, sitting with her back against one of the bandersnatch waystones and staring out across the chessboard. The view is much changed from the one they shared in their youth; brighter without the shadows of the Anonyme Forest and… sterile, somehow.

“You came,” Hatter says without looking around. Percy cannot tell whether she’s surprised or not—or disappointed or not, or pleased or not—for her tone is as clean and empty as the view.

“You wrote,” Percy replies, unable to think of another answer.

Hatter dips her head but does not answer, and Percy hesitates. She’s dressed more simply than Percy expected, in clothes little different than the Madara of Percy’s memory: Dusty breeches and boots, a padded wool jerkin over linen sleeves. Black leather gloves. Her hair gathered into a loose braid.

“Why?” she asks at length, when it begins to seem that Hatter will spend the whole afternoon staring silently toward the western horizon, and at last Hatter looks at her.

Her eyes are so very blue. Percy had forgotten their strangeness, how they shine a pure, vivid blue unstained by the reddish sunlight, and gazing into them makes her heart flutter.

Hatter chuckles in a humorless, dry sort of way and returns to her study of the view. She says, “I’ve written dozens of letters. I’ve a box of them in my workshop.”

“Oh.”

“Will you sit down?” Hatter asks. There is an almost plaintive note in her voice now, and Percy, her mind full of letters left unsent and what that might mean about this one, goes to kneel in the grass at her side.

“Is something wrong?”

She knows, everyone knows that the Hatter is ill, and seeing her now—her colorless cheeks, the bruised shadows beneath her eyes, the way her hands quiver as she rubs them together and then tucks them into her lap—fills Percy with a deep unease. What if…?

But Hatter murmurs, “What do you think of me now?”

And again there’s a mournful twinge to her tone; concern compels Percy to honesty. “I miss you,” she says softly. “Sometimes I hear reports of your deeds and feel I don’t know you at all, but still I think of you every day.”

“Percy—” Hatter clasps her hands together and works her jaw, and a moment of peculiar silence follows. “Have I changed?”

“You left,” Percy says. “You vanished in the night and the next any of us heard of you you were the Hatter—and you threw away your name and your history and your place in your ranks to embrace Wonderland as your home. I always thought…” She wavers, and she has to pause a moment to compose herself. “I always thought it was because you were happier there.”

“Was I unhappy before?” Hatter asks, her voice small and very fragile.

“How would I know?” Percy replies. “You seemed happy enough, but you left, and I thought…” She bites her lip. “Were you?”

Hatter quakes, and her hands unwind from each other and fly up to cover her face while Percy looks on, taken aback. “I don’t know,” she moans, muffled into her hands. “I don’t remember.”

“Whether you were happy or not?”

“Anything,” Hatter says wretchedly. “Anything. Anything before the fire.”

“…What?”

“I never have. Oh, Percy. All I remember is heat and darkness and—noise.” Shuddering, Hatter lifts her red-rimmed eyes to meet Percy’s startled gaze. “Minds are such fragile things,” she whispers. “I remember—burning—and… and then I woke without waking and I—I was gone, Percy. All around me there was smoke and ash and—I kept slipping away, I think, but the—the noise…”

“What noise?”

“It pulled me back,” Hatter breathes, and though she still stares into Percy’s face there’s a frightening blankness in her eyes; whatever she sees, it isn’t Percy. “There wasn’t enough of me left to come back but it… showed me how…”

Percy reaches over to grasp her wrist and says, “Madder?”

Hatter’s eyes abruptly refocus, and she blinks as if startled to find Percy still there. She sighs soft and long as she pulls her wrist through the loose hold; her trembling fingers alight on Percy’s cheek and skim down, light as a breeze.

“Percy,” Hatter whispers, in a voice as shaky as her hands. “Percy…”

Her thumb flirts with the bottom of Percy’s lip, and Percy closes her eyes and they sink into each other with a delicate inevitability that feels very much like coming home. Hatter murmurs something quiet and wordless and cradles her face, deepening the kiss.

A soft haze spreads over her thoughts.

And when it is over, Hatter draws away and rests her forehead against Percy’s shoulder, her breathing so ragged that she might have just run for miles; it takes Percy a moment to realize she is crying.

“I loved you,” Hatter gasps. “I—I couldn’t even remember my own name but oh, Percy—I knew I loved you.” She takes a deep gulping breath and sits up to wipe at her eyes. A few flyaway hairs have slipped from her braid and become stuck to her cheek; Percy peels them free and tucks them gently behind her ear. “How much did you mean to me, that I remembered you even then?”

“I loved you too,” Percy says. I love you still.

Hatter shudders convulsively as more tears leak from her eyes. “How long—how—after the fire…?”

“A week,” she murmurs. “You were unconscious for a week.”

“I thought longer.” Hatter hunches into herself and wraps her hands around her knees, her face a mask of misery and guilt. “It felt… What did Thornton say about me? While I…?”

This isn’t a memory Percy wishes to revisit, but it seems of intense importance to Hatter, and so she chews her lip and answers. “He said the longer it went on the less hope we should have of you ever waking, and you wouldn’t just—it wouldn’t be like waking up from a long sleep, if you ever did.”

“Traumatic fugue,” Hatter mutters.

“He used that phrase, yes. Why—”

“It felt like years, picking through the ashes,” Hatter says. “In the dark. A mind is—it’s—do you understand me, Percy?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

Hatter makes a grumbling noise of aggravation and says, “Think of the Red King. How he dreams—and the Glassland is only a dream of his, in his mind?” She peers urgently into Percy’s eyes, and Percy nods to show that she’s following so far. “And so—and so—if the Glassland burnt away, if all of it was destroyed—what would happen to him?”

“I suppose he’d wake up,” Percy says.

“No!” Hatter twists herself onto her knees, her hands flying out to grip Percy's shoulders. “If your dreams—if your dreams burn…”

Percy recognizes the look of frustrated pleading in Hatter’s eyes, and it makes her heart ache; she reaches up to smooth Hatter’s hair, touching her thumb to the furrow between her brows. “The fire in the Anonyme—did it… start in your dreams?”

Relief breaks over Hatter’s face. “Yes. Yes.”

“You told me—” Percy bites her lip. “There were other fires that summer, smaller ones, do you remember that?” Hatter goes even paler, and her grip on Percy’s shoulders slackens into nothing as she shakes her head. “You told me it was you, the night the Anonyme fire started. I didn’t understand what you meant—you looked at me just the same as you did now—but you were so scared. And I… I promised I’d watch over you while you slept, and—”

Her voice creaks and fails her.

“It came out of me,” Hatter says.

“You screamed,” Percy whispers. “And all the trees caught fire.”

And the blaze had begun from the inside, so for an instant every trunk had shone ruby-red before the flames had burst forth and all had fallen into chaos. Percy hadn’t had the time to wonder about it then, but she wonders now.

“I remember screaming,” Hatter murmurs.

“And. So…”

“Forests regrow after a fire,” Hatter says, sounding weary. She slumps heavily onto her side and draws her knees up to her chest. “But I… I was gone, Percy, I told you. Madara Corogarde is gone. All that’s left of her is that she loved you.”

Percy thinks of the kiss, of Madara Corogarde signed in an almost illegible hand, of a box filled with unsent letters in Hatter’s workshop, and asks, “Do you?”

Hatter laughs mirthlessly. “I built my whole mind on the certainty of loving you,” she says. “You are the cornerstone of my very soul and I loved you before I knew my own name. I love you. But Percy, Percy, I don’t know why.”

Oh.

A little more than a year had gone by in between Madder waking from her weeklong stupor and the last glimpse Percy had had of her in their camp in Wonderland, and in all that time Madder had remembered nothing but that one year and all its tragedies, and Percy had never noticed. How terrible would it be, to awaken loving a stranger and receive such inattentiveness in turn?

Small wonder she had left.

“Oh, Hatter,” Percy breathes.

“What were we like, Percy?” Hatter leans toward her, eyes shining and desperate and glassy with tears. “I’ve heard a little—the old crowd at the chess school like to reminisce—I know we were close, but…”

“I loved you,” Percy says. “You were so kind, and so brave, and I think I would have spent a great deal more time indoors if I’d never met you. You were forever dragging me away from my books to have adventures.” A smile ghosts across Hatter’s face, there and gone again in a second; Percy eases closer, tentatively puts a hand on her back, and Hatter shivers and leans into her palm. “Once you signed on to a snark hunt with the Phantomwise and I was lonelier than I’d ever been until you returned in the fall, and then you told me all about it and fell asleep in my lap. And when you woke you pulled off your shirt and showed me this—” Percy leans around her to caress her arm, tracing the curving lines of the tattoo she cannot see but knows as surely as she knows her own hands. “—and—and I did not get very much work done that afternoon at all.”

Hatter snorts, and Percy does too, resting her cheek against Hatter’s shoulder and letting the happy memory wash over her. “I don’t believe that you’re not… you,” she says after a moment, softly. “You survived something horrible the only way you could, and it changed you, but that doesn’t mean you died and a different you—”

“I’m not Madara,” Hatter says stiffly.

“No. You’re Hatter. But she’s your past, and not remembering it doesn’t mean it didn’t shape you.” Hatter says nothing, and Percy strokes her arm again and settles into the silence, looking out at the view over Hatter’s shoulder. She isn’t sure what else to say.

Two or three miles on she can see the dark line of a convoy creeping south from Brochgims Landing, its wagons no larger than her thumbnail at this distance; beyond them there’s the pinkish glimmer of the coast where the waters of the Fitful Sea catch the sunlight.

And if she looks to the south she can see the rugged cliffs of the eighth rank rising out of the silvery fields of the seventh—the crimson rubble of Quare is all gone now, carried away by Hatter’s work crews, and looking at the clean gap where the grand old city ought to be makes Percy’s chest feel painfully tight—and west of that is Hatter’s citadel, carving into the white sky at the point where the cliffs meet the sea. From here the citadel looks like nothing so much as a tangle of black brambles and broken glass, and Percy cannot help wondering how much of the thorniness of its architecture was borne out of the way Quare crumbled when the Jabberwock perched upon its keep.

“I never thanked you,” Percy says quietly.

“Pardon?”

“For saving me. When the Jabberwock—” Hatter stiffens and goes so still that Percy thinks she might have stopped breathing. She hesitates. She’d bled so much that her memories of that night and several days afterward are fuzzy and dim, but she knows the beast had caught her a blow across the chest and split her open from shoulder to navel. She has an ugly scar to prove it. “You helped me through the Looking Glass, didn’t you?”

Hatter makes a choking sound, like a sob trying to be laughter. “I carried you through the Looking Glass,” she says, “because you refused to leave before anyone else, you brave noble idiot. And you stopped fighting me halfway through and I was terrified that you’d gone and died.”

“Oh.”

“It was my fault,” Hatter says.

Before Percy can ask what she means, she shakes Percy off and struggles to her feet; Percy has always thought of her as Madder, the knight who scaled cliffs and duelled with bandersnatches like it was nothing, and it is an unpleasant shock to see the difficulty she has standing now. Her legs wobble like those of a sailor rediscovering solid land after months at sea, and she’s halfway up when a knee gives out beneath her and she catches herself against the waystone with a low hiss.

”Hatter—”

“Listen, Percy!” Hatter flings herself off the waystone, stumbling but upright, and points with a shaking finger to the ashen earth where the Anonyme Forest once stood. “There—there! After the fire—you remember?—we kept hearing of the Jabberwock, and I thought…”

She sags. Percy says, “You went after the Vorpal Sword.”

“…I wanted to be useful,” Hatter says miserably.

Percy has heard this story before, from other mouths; the White Knight Callix, who met Madder at the mouth of the Red King’s Barrow, and Alces, the arrogant wolf of the Tea Company, who had followed both of them inside, had both lived to tell their garbled accounts of what happened in those ancient halls.

“What happened in there? I know you fought…”

Shuddering, Hatter says, “Once we came to the burial chamber. It was there—on a pedestal—it isn’t a sword, it’s only a little wooden knife, did you know?—and we all wanted it.” She presses a hand to her stomach, her eyes distant. “Alces struck me—here—and fire spilled out… Then—they ran, I think. I-I-I saw…”

Her knees begin to buckle, and Percy scrambles to catch her before she falls; Hatter seems not to notice.

“…Through the smoke, I saw—the barrow wasn’t built of stone, Percy. It was her. The Vorpal Blade lay upon a single claw of her outstretched arm, and how the fire made her scales gleam!” Hatter gives a broken, hysterical laugh and wrenches herself out of Percy’s arms, pressing a hand to her mouth as if to stifle the sounds. “I pulled the blade from its sheath and she woke and I—oh, Percy. If I had been quicker I could have slain her then.”

“But…”

She means to say the barrow is still there, but Hatter lies weeping in the grass with her eyes screwed shut and one hand still clamped over her mouth, wracked by terrible heaving sobs, and who is Percy to say that she cannot have seen what she saw?

Something peculiar happened in the Red King’s Barrow that night, and Hatter’s account of it isn’t any stranger than the others.

So instead she leans over and puts her hand over Hatter’s where it’s clutching at the grass, and sits quietly next to her while she cries. Percy wonders whether she’s ever shared this with anyone else, or if she’s gone all these years carrying the guilt in silence.

After a while Hatter flips her hand over and grasps Percy’s in a crushing grip which eases, slowly, slowly, into something softer.

“Maybe you could have,” Percy murmurs, pulling Hatter’s hand into her lap and cradling it in both of hers. “I don’t like maybes, Hatter. That was something I used to say to you all the time. You’ve always been the sort to brood, but as I see it what’s done is done and it’s no use trying to rewrite it in our heads with maybe.” Hatter gives no sign of listening, and Percy adds, gently, “No reasonable person would blame you, Hatter.”

And for a few minutes it seems Hatter has nothing to say to that. She sighs in the shuddery way of tears running dry and curls up on her side in the grass, her eyes inflamed and tear-stained and still tightly closed.

“All the rumors you’ve heard of me are true,” she says at length.

I know, Percy thinks, but what she says is, “I don’t hear rumors, Hatter. I do have informants in your citadel, you know. You may be ruling my country but I am still your Queen.”

Hatter flies up with terrible fury in her eyes. “Then have the decency to loathe me!”

“The way you loathe yourself?” Percy asks, and Hatter lurches back as if Percy had slapped her across the face. “You always have, even when you were Madder. I think the only difference is now you’ve given yourself permission to be what you hate, because you can’t remember ever being any different.”

Hatter presses her lips into a tight, thin line and tries for a cold gaze that is rather sabotaged by the puffiness of her eyes and the fact that her cheeks are still slick with tears.

“I don’t like what you’ve become,” Percy continues. “But I loved you too much and too long to hate you now. And I think you do quite enough of that for the pair of us.”

And now the sullen retreat. Percy only just keeps from nodding to herself when Hatter tears her hand away and stands in her wobbling, unsteady way. Hatter can insist all she likes that Madara Corogarde is dead; actions, as the saying goes, speak with greater force than words.

Hatter snatches up a long white cane from the grass at the foot of the waystone—it is, Percy notes with a spark of amusement, the fine cane of snark bone that the crew of the Phantomwise had presented to Madder about a month after she returned from their snark hunt, and she wonders what Hatter would say now if Percy told her how dearly she had cherished it then—and snarls something that might have been a goodbye before storming away down the bluff.

Percy leans on her hands and watches her go. She feels—oh, frustrated and sad but also helplessly fond, and for once like the queen she is now and the girl she was then might lay down their arms and cease waging war in her heart.

I’ll come for you, Percy thinks. You want to be the villain in my campaign for the Glassland, but instead I’ll make you my ally. And when all is said and done I will have my country back and you will sit on Wonderland’s throne.

Don’t brood too long, my love.

[khrisjavier]

End of an Era: A Life Defined by Nights in Webster Hall

In truth the first time I stepped into the grand ballroom of the historic venue off eleventh and third I was taken against my will. The year was 2011 and I was only a few months into grieving over the loss of my older brother in the summer of 2010. Honestly more than half a decade later I can admit to my self-induced reclusiveness that caused a dear friend to force me out of my bedroom prison and into the nightlife I would come to respect and love, but at the time I only saw it as a half-assed attempt from him to get company since no one else would join. I can’t say if I was born to catch the club bug, or it was my state of mind (which admittedly was not at all healthy at the time) that made that first night the beginning of countless more beneath those lights, but the scene took me, and it was damn near instant. 

A higher power, or genetics, whichever it may be has graciously cursed me with an almost perfect memory retention and years later on the eve of Webster’s closing I still remember standing on that line for the first time, looking at a crowd that resembled nothing I have been exposed to before (to be earnest before that summer of 2010 I was quite well versed in everything the city had to offer) I looked straight at my dear friend, thanked him, and accepted his offer of drugs before we entered. I had some modest drug experience before this (with an explicit code, no veins and no nose, I believe we all should have one when experimenting), so my main opposition before arriving and along the ride was my own state of mind. I knew that drugs take you where you don’t want to go, your unconscious forfeits to them if your environment isn’t there to remind you of your larger self. With all my unconscious and conscious feelings of grief and apathy, I thought I was sure to have a bad time. Everything drifted away in a sea of technicolor patrons, promoters and door personal that looked more extravagant than the patrons, and a building of red brick struggling to contain bass as people file in as a confused masse on a mission. How could I say no to the dive in? How could I not let myself go? 

On that first Girls & Boys night the molly took me away but in truth the environment took me further, as it did on my last night completely sober on that dance floor for the final Girls & Boys event. Past the hulking security guards in black on black on black suit attire and the modest shake down into the basement Trash party, which was our backdoor so to speak to the Girls & Boys party upstairs at more than half the price, my friend and I entered a veritable den of neon hedonism and debauchery; and I fucking loved it. My friend quickly had to pull me from my amazement and remind me that this is just foreplay but I consciously gave respect then and countless times after to those Trash parties and all their glory. A more inclusive party cannot and will not be conceived, and that is without any exaggeration. Straight, gay, confused, leather, latex, or suit, you were welcome to dance, jump on a small ottoman or table and go crazy. The main act and producer of this bastion of love, Jess Marquis, has passed on, and may he rest peacefully, but that beautiful soul both inside and out, created something unmatched there in his time alive. It’s quite possible that the Trash party had more of an immediate effect on me than the grand ballroom since my total time on it was for only a little bit shy of half an hour. In fact, I didn’t even get to see the main act that night spawning an obsession to fulfill that goal in the future. 

Within thirty minutes of my first time in Webster’s grand ballroom I was pulled out of the crowd by a white man with braids nearly as wide as he is tall. Now, let me admit, I was on illegal drugs, I did not have any of said drugs or any other drugs on my persons. So this whole altercation did rattle me a bit but it did not in the least keep me from returning. In front of me in the middle of the crowd were two guys obviously smoking a joint, and obviously taking their graciously lubricated fingers and placing them in and out of a baggy, but I paid no mind and concentrated on the rest of the scene in front of me. The various lights overhead illuminating the otherwise pitch black room, the speakers placed seductively adjacent the bar in the back being sat on by guys and girls alike, the strobes which when activated made everything look like a zoetrope. 

Amidst all of this I finally see the duo in front of me drop their joint and just then this huge shadowy mass appears in the middle of the crowd in front of us. I see one drop a bag on the floor at his feet and I stand waiting to see what happens to the naughty partygoers who don’t know how to be discrete. The security guard bends down, picks up the roach and the baggy which conveniently were within feet of each other, motions above the heads of the crowd, and another two guards swoop in grabbing both of the duos and assertively escorting their confused faces out the crowd. Then, the braided security guard looked to me eye to eye and escorted me away from my friend a few persons over. I knew better than to fight a security guard since I was under the influence but was innocent of having anything besides a pack of Newport on me. Immediately I was questioned by the guard about how I entered with drugs and where was the rest, patted down and searched. To which I gave in willingly and tried explaining irately “I don’t even fucking know those guys”. To this day I don’t know whether that guard was just fishing for a free pack or what but he took my cigarettes and escorted me out with all the delinquents that were either too fucked up to get in or too fucked up to handle their shit when they were inside. Soon after my friend turned up outside, confused, disappointed, and sooner after we would return. 

What would proceed would be nearly a year of consecutive weekends immersing myself within that brick building. Making bonds that would last for the length of a cigarette or for half a decade later. I would meet regular patrons and recount the greatness of the night before in hopes for a greater night then, years later I would see those same patrons and lament over the greater nights of yore. It is difficult to say if the lessons learned those nights (if you ever try and learn a lesson, which admittedly most never do) would enrich every life, but they have certainly turned I, and plenty of others, into a different caste of people. An addiction to an experience will cause a person to do many wondrous things they never imagined before, like saving a disposable throughout a whole night and saving it to be refilled at the tap so that you don’t have to pay five dollars for a new one every time you are thirsty, which is every ten minutes while on drugs in a room full of warm bodies. Extensively searching day in and day out for R.S.V.P. guest lists or contests to avoid paying full admission in order to save for when you have to, or for some, more drugs. Learning how to navigate the spider web of social interaction in order to gain a free cigarette because you are desperately craving it as your teeth grind (at least before you learn there is a difference between good and bad drugs). Becoming a novice at chemistry and pharmacology as you test your smidgeon of your supply on aluminum foil to make sure it is that appropriate color of black on the spectrum, and learning the appropriate combination of vitamins and minerals to keep your body from burning out through the six to eight-hour long night. 

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the state of the world now more than those nights. Without experience knowing that humanity can be united under one banner, music, for a plethora of different personal reasons, but together in one purpose, losing yourself to the music, how could one have hope for humanity as it stands now? With all the issues at hand in today’s world, one would think that there was no hope for peace over a cartographer’s set regional boundaries. Though I know that beyond religion, color, even age, there can be understanding, respect, and general kindness. I know it because I have been both on the giving and receiving end. I have learned in my times in the scene that paying kindness forward is the way to live, but all that spawned from those nights in Webster Hall, simply paying forward a free cigarette to another lost soul because I have been there before. 

Now the doors to Webster Hall as most of those early patrons know it will be closing and reopening under the thumb of big money. The mood was somber and nostalgic, at least for me, that last Girls & Boys, but it has been that way for a while now when thinking about the scene. Years later, a generation that felt immortal under fog and neon lights is becoming more aware of their mortality and the futility that is life at times. With age must come change and the times are changing. The ballroom still held most of its former glory but the speakers in the back were gone, they have been for over a year now. There are no more Trash parties, and the resident DJs that were here and made the regulars feel a part of a family have moved on to bigger things, or sadly moved on at a young age shattering that initial lasting bliss we all shared in the venue. Leaving myself and other close friends wondering, what is next for us, the city, the scene characterized by bass and cheap thrills? 

While I ask those questions, and struggle to find a satisfactory answer I remind myself of one thing, I must not forget what I learned all those nights exploring and haunting the floors of Webster Hall. For that span of a few hours, for all its faults and defects, whether it be a rowdy crowd or the owners simply neglecting to turn more than two goddamn fans on at once leaving you an utter mess afterwards, Webster Hall was home and we all were one beautiful dysfunctional family. I still wish all the people that make a night at Webster what it is a safe passage home, the guards with all their needed stoicism to control the flock, the door personal with their much needed cynicism to combat those that try to force their way in, the barkeeps that push you aside so that they can keep the drinks flowing, the bartenders that you love (especially the tall doe eyed one that worked the basement, I hope you all the best you beautiful creature) and the ones you hate because they never seem to see you when you’re right in front with cash in hand, the sound and light production that goes without thanks or notice, and especially each act which has either blown my mind away or left me wanting to go home and do a better job entertaining myself behind the turntables, I hope they all find the greenest pastures. The lessons of kindness and selflessness, the openness to take the good with the bad and try to make something great, are all things I can thank Webster Hall for, and for that I am forever grateful and in debt. 

[blockheadbrands]

How to Come Out of the Cannabis Closet to Your Parents

Bailey Rahn of Leafly Reports:

The holidays are upon us once again. When classes are out and the work week breaks into vacation, many of you will be making a pilgrimage back home to parents and family. This time of the year always reminds me of the day I took my first step out of the cannabis closet by telling my parents – my conservative, religious parents – that I used cannabis.

Coming out is a much less scary thing here in the Pacific Northwest, where both medical and recreational cannabis is legal. However, in other areas of the U.S. where attitudes toward marijuana are more closed off, it can feel a lot like you’re turning yourself in. But if you’re living productively and successfully, there’s no better way to change people’s minds about cannabis than by being a living, breathing counter-example of Reefer Madness stereotypes.

In the same way that public demonstrations of support and pride helped fuel the LGBT rights movement, coming out for cannabis also generates momentum as it normalizes and humanizes the issue. If you’re thinking about making that public proclamation to those closest to you, here are a few tips to help it go as smoothly as possible.

Step 1: Determine the Appropriate Time and Place

With sweaty palms, a racing heart, and a beet-red face, I finally unleashed the secret I’d been keeping locked away in an airtight, smell-proof container these last several years. It was a small Thanksgiving dinner with only my parents and siblings, and as full plates of food turned to crumbs, I knew it was now or never.

When you decide to make the move for yourself, consider who will be present and what the general mood will be. For me, that was a holiday dinner with just my immediate family. Spirits were high, bellies were full, and wine glasses were empty. I knew there’d be plenty of time to talk it out, and my siblings were there should I need any their support.

If the spontaneous bomb-drop “We need to talk about something” angle seems unnatural, segue from a relevant conversation. Maybe your state will be voting on a marijuana initiative, or a family member is complaining about a symptom that could be treated with medical cannabis. Whatever your point of entrance may be, just make sure it’s done in a comfortable environment with enough time to discuss.

Step 2: Be Prepared for Unexpected Reactions

“So I got a job…at a cannabis website.” It was out. I waited for their disappointed reaction with tense muscles, waiting for some kind of verbal slap. But when I looked up, my parents smiled and gave sincere congratulations. When I told them I also used it and had been since I was 21, they were no less supportive and spirited. Okay. Well. That was unexpected.

Your family may surprise you by their reaction, especially if you’re expecting the worst. If you’ve never had a conversation with them about cannabis before, try it out to gauge where their opinions are. Had I done that earlier, I’m sure I would have had no problem coming out from the start.

But what if your parents react negatively?

Step 3: Explain the Impact Cannabis Has Had on You Personally

My parents never demanded an explanation for my cannabis use, but I gave myself a soapbox anyway. I told them it helped with my ongoing medical struggles. It helped my mood. It kept me engaged with hobbies and rekindled my love for the outdoors.

This is the possibly the most important step in coming out of the cannabis closet. If cannabis is bettering your life in some way, testify to that. It may take time for your parents to come around if they still cling to preconceived notions about marijuana, but your example and conviction could be the thing to change their minds.

Step 4: Be Educated About Its Health Risks and Benefits

Both of my parents work in medicine but had very little knowledge of why cannabis helped certain conditions or the breadth of therapeutic compounds offered. When my 90-year old grandparents later came to visit, this was about the only angle I could use to get them to understand why I was so passionate about a drug they were taught to hate.

Here’s your chance to make an impact. Be responsive to their challenges and questions. Tell them about emerging cannabinoid research, smoke-free methods of consumption, and how more mainstream medical organizations are coming out in favor of medical marijuana. Balance your knowledge of the benefits with your awareness of the risks, and explain how those risks are often massively overstated by government agencies.

If you’re not sure of where to begin collecting persuasive ammunition, you can gather ideas and materials from Leafly’s Cannabis 101 articles.

Step 5: Comply with Cannabis Laws and Regulations

If you’re using cannabis illegally, that may concern the parents. They certainly don’t want to see you get into any trouble, but if you live in a state without legal recreational or medical marijuana, taking a stand is that much more important. How else are you going to inspire change?

If you aren’t comfortable revealing incriminating details, the best thing you can do is to simply state your opinion on the issue. Be educated about the effects legalization has on public health, incarceration rates, underage use, and so on.

For more information on your state’s marijuana laws, refer to our State of the Leaf map.

Step 6: Be Understanding of Your Family’s Feelings

The hardest part about coming out to your parents in support of cannabis is knowing they may disagree with your choice entirely. I was lucky to have understanding parents who align with me on this issue, but unfortunately there are loads of family members out there who will be disappointed, hurt, or worried by your decision.

Ideological differences are always going to exist between generations and individuals, and while it’s important to remain steadfast in your attitude toward cannabis, know that your family may always feel differently. Responding with respect and understanding is the absolute best way for you to close the conversation, but who knows? They may come around once they process what you’ve told them. After all, there’s a reason public opinion toward marijuana is changing so rapidly.

Have you already come out to your parents? Share your experiences, advice, and inspiration in the comments section below. To those of you still biding your time, we wish you the best of luck whenever you feel ready to have “the talk” with your loved ones.

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON LEAFLY, CLICK HERE.

https://www.leafly.com/news/pop-culture/thanksgiving-survival-guide-coming-out-of-the-cannabis-closet-to

[never-wrote]

Endless-ch1

(AN: unedited)

(It was supposed to be a virtual reality game, not a life sentence.)

Chapter One

I can be bought for 50$ and a meal

I was: Poor, tired, angry, hungry, and frustrated.

I wanted: money, food, and a comfortable bed.

All in that order. If I didn't have such a strict sense of honour, I would have stolen every bit of coin from the cash box ages ago. I growled and slammed the safe door shut, and twirled the dial lock furiously, preventing any of my darker thoughts from being acted on. Another night shift done, another shift where I succeeded in not murdering every customer who walked into the store, and another day's pay in the bank. Now to greet the morning sun before heading to sleep for the next eight hours, then up again to start my next job at the Marketplace downtown, after which, yet another night shift here. I was starting to regret taking the night shifts from my co-worker, you got the scariest customers at night time, and the shifts took forever to complete.

It was spitting rain outside– there will no sun greeting I guess– rather then getting my hair wet– which would require a shower when I got home, I chose to walk through the connecting mall to the MagRail located on the first floor of the above ground parking lot. The mall shops were just beginning to open so I waved to a couple familiar faces as I passed them by, intent on my destination.

“Finished work for the night?” An older man asked, it was John, I cringed inside. He was the guy who was real sweet on me, always stopping me to chat or pat me on the shoulder, he had asked me out for more coffee dates then any other guy I had met combined, he was also old enough to be my father. I waved to him in short greeting, before pulling out my phone, I was pretending to be busy. If I looked busy, he typically left me to my own business. Don't get me wrong, John was a really nice guy, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, brushing off every rejection with a small laugh and a change of date. I almost wished he was an asshole so I could just give him the middle finger and be done with it.

I hurried past him guiltily, apologizing to him mentally when I saw his crestfallen expression out of the corner of my eye. I hated myself just a little bit more for feeling guilty.

I took the escalator down to the second floor where a couple tables were being set up for a new product showing. From the looks of it, something high tech relating to games, Derrick, the youngest manager of Games-For-You, was speaking with a small Asian woman while pointing to the small black stage in the centre. He looked upset. He looked up and saw me, eye contact was made and a huge grin spread over his face.

“Marina! Marina get over here! Thank God, you're still here!” He bellowed out, waving his arms in the air, reminiscent of a drowning man in the middle of the ocean. “Thank God.” He said again as I walked up to him, “I need a huge favour, do it and I'll give you fifty dollars cash and breakfast, or lunch, is on me.”

“I'm yours,” I said blandly, careful not to show my excitement at the prospect of a free meal and quick cash for my empty wallet. Derrick was an old friend from Jr. High School, he had helped me out a couple of times when I needed extra cash or a quick job, he had never led me astray before, I trusted him. He was the type of guy who knew everyone and anybody and from what I had heard from others, could get you anything from hookers to drugs, to the latest out of stock phone, all within a reasonable amount of time.

“She's perfect for this, trust me!” He grabbed my hand, “Trust me!” He yelled to the Asian woman, who, from the looks of it, was ready to throw her clipboard at his head as he tugged me behind a black screen. “Okay, Mina, I have this huge favour, like if you don't come through, I might loose my job, kind of favour.”

“Derrick, I already said I'm yours. Just tell me what you need” I said. I would never tell him this– I'm poor dammit– but even without the offer of money, I owed him a lot. I would have been honour bound to do whatever this job was, for free– had he asked. He paused, then grinned widely showing every one of his perfect white teeth.

“I knew I fucking loved you.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out two twenties and a ten and handed them to me. I slipped them into my backpack, and then gave him a mock salute. “Jamie, the fucking whore, did a night of coke last night with her druggie boyfriend. Which means she can't do the job I was going to pay her for.” Jamie, was one of his store clerks who was hired for her large breasts and surprisingly amazing knowledge of console games, she was also a bit of an idiot when it came to her choice of boyfriends. I knew her well enough from odd jobs at the clubs, but not well enough to pass judgment on her lifestyle choices, which from the mall rumour mill, had been rapidly declining. I nodded understandingly, although not really, Jamie may have done coke all night, but that had never stopped her from working her shifts before. “Tech Corp is here showing off the new 3D gaming headset. They need a model to show off its features and plug in to the demo game. All you have to do is enter the virtual world, walk around, look around, and show how fucking amazing the programmers are.”

“Uh, Derrick, this may come as a shock to you,” I said dryly, “but I'm a PC gamer, not a Virtual.” Virtual gaming may have come a long way from its early days in the 2010's, but it was just a console game with dual screens and shitty controls. In other words, it was horribly overpriced and I could never afford a headset.

“I know, I know! But the Asian lady said no drugs! Apparently the game might send the person into a seizures or something. I would do it myself, but I've gotta schmooze the customers.” He gave me a flirtatious wink and hip bump. “And I smoked a fuck ton of weed before my shift today.”

“Ah, so in other words, I'm the only drug free friend you have in the mall, and I can be bought with 50$ and a meal huh?” I asked questionably, both eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Exactly babe. And you can't say no either, you already said you're my bitch. And as my bitch, I demand you go put that clunky thing on your head and make it beautiful for me.” I gave him my biggest fake smile and curtsied.  

“Your wish is my command, mi'lord.” I said, pivoting on my heel to strut around the black curtain, once I was out in the open, I began to walk normally until I stood in front of the stern looking woman. “I'm here to model in place of Jamie.” I politely murmured, immediately switching to my customer service mode.

“You need to be 21, clean of any drugs that effect the brain, legal or illegal, and you are required to sign this waiver and terms of use contract.” She snapped at me handing me her clipboard and a fine ball point pen. “Signing the waiver means you agree to have your game play viewed by an audience and you know the health risks, if you are under the influence of any drugs, legal or illegal, may result in a severe seizures and we will not to be held responsible for it. Furthermore, that you understand that any headache or ocular migraine you receive from our technology is at your own risk and expense.”

I glanced through the paperwork, everything looked normal and standard, I handed her my government identification while I took her pen. I scribbled my signature at the bottom of the five pages where indicated. She handed me my card back after taking a photo of it with her phone and took her pen back.

“Excellent. Tech Corp is an innovative company for the betterment of virtual reality gaming, and training software. We are new to this highly competitive market, but we intend to dominate it, you are taking part in a live demonstration of our latest headgear and virtual world design. It is still a work in progress, therefore some of the texture packs or social features are not yet available and you may run into a glitch or two, please ignore these for the sake of the demonstration. Our CEO, Mr. Richard Smith, wishes to have a world wide demonstration, at 10am, your time, despite the incomplete software.”

She brought me up to the small black stage where a standard office chair was located in the centre. She left me standing by the chair as she swiped a sensor key at a large steel box suitcase, located just off to the right of the stage, a small beep and click notified everyone in the vicinity that it was now safe to open. I craned my head in interest as she opened it with her back to me, I wondered what type of high tech gear she was about to pull out, virtual technology was constantly changing with newer improved virtual graphics, software, and equipment, I could only guess what would come from this new innovative company. I held my breath as she turned around, in her hands was a large clunky black motorcycle helmet with its packaging foam sheets still wrapped around it. I stared in disbelief. To my knowledge, even the earliest VR equipment didn't come in helmet form, the latest VR was a set of goggle glasses with ear pieces and finger gloves, if Tech Corp was looking to decimate their competition, then they weren't even on the right timeline to even begin. Distracted by the rather disappointing helmet, I nearly missed her pulling out a long thick black cord. I cringed, I thought wired connections died off when I was born, apparently not, because she plugged it into something on the inside of the helmet.

“Hold this, while I grab the hand controllers.” She said as she dropped the beast of a helmet onto my lap. I continued to stare down at the helmet and my reflection on the shiny plastic, I was waiting for her to suddenly break into laughter and tell me it was all a joke. She didn't. In fact she just turned back around and walked up to the suitcase to begin rumaging around the packaging foam, looking for the controllers– not gloves, controllers, more ancient technology.

I looked back down at the dinosaur on my lap, it must have weighed at least 5 pounds if not more. I glanced up from the beast on my lap to where Derrick was chatting with an onlooker and caught his eye. I pointed down at the heavy piece of equipment, and made an exaggerated expression of horror, he shrugged and turned his back on me. What the fuck, man, innovative technology my ass, I mentally thought towards him. I swallowed my judgment however at the memory of a free meal and the fifty dollars in my wallet.

I stifled a yawn as I watched the slowly growing Saturday morning shopping crowd, which I wouldn't admit was making me slightly nervous with their slowly rising numbers. Thankfully, my lack of sleep from my eight hour night shift at the grocery store, and my previous six hour shift at the market, didn't leave me with enough energy to be affected by my sudden bout of stage fright. Besides, I thought, holding in yet another yawn, I wouldn't be able to see the crowd once I put the helmet on.

“Here are the hand controls, this is your left hand, this is your right.” I glanced down at the two black hand pieces with buttons and joysticks, no wires to get tangled in thankfully, and strapped them onto my wrists while resting the heavy helmet on my lap. She was lucky I was a PC gamer, I was pretty sure VR gamers had no idea what a button or joystick was anymore. Spoiled rich bastards. “Your log on is username Vancouver001, password Cosmos. When you are given access to the virtual reality world, please do not wander far from your load area, we haven't uploaded all of the textures in your general vicinity. Depending on how fast you load into the game, I might be able to give you a couple minutes to familiarize yourself with the controls before 10am comes around, at which point the demo will begin. At 10am I will begin guiding you through the city on a scenic tour and display of our technology. Do you understand?” She asked, picking up the helmet.

“Yes ma'am.” I said with a firm nod toward her. She handed me the helmet, I let go of the twin hand controllers and let the tied straps around my wrists catch them. The interior of the helmet had a bunch of small white dots in a grid pattern around the head casing, each dot was connected with small tiny white wires, there was no soft padding on the inside. The black reflective visor, or rather what I assumed was the dual screens, was in the down position, once I put the helmet on, my face would be completely hidden. Again, none of this looked new or innovative, I didn't hold much hope for this new upstart company. “How long have you been working for Tech Corp?” I asked as I settled the clunky helmet on, it weighed a ton, I lifted the visor so I could see what was going on around me.

“I was hired on last week for the purpose of this demonstration.” She said. She walked behind me and gave the cord a little tug, I heard a small pop and something in the helmet dropped down on my head, it felt like a heavy net of some sort.

“I think something disconnected in the helmet.” I said, rolling my head around as I felt something dig into where my neck met my skull, the helmet rocked freely on my head like an old bobble toy. “Like the interior or something.”

“Everything looks fine on my end,” The woman said glancing down at the tablet in her hands as she came to stand in front of me. She looked up and leaned forward to peer around the edges of the helmet, “The connection seems fine” She tucked the tablet under her arm as she touched something on the helmet where my temples were, I felt another small sharp pressure poke me, the visor dropped down. “Any questions or comments before I turn it on?”

“Yeah, first, this helmet seriously needs some head padding, and what's your name?” I asked. Turning my head blindly to where she stood last, I couldn't see anything through the visor.

“Nancy Yin” She said after a long pause. “Ready in, 5...4...3...2...1”

My visor turned on, showing a small, extremely pixelated, information box asking for my log on information. I was forced into using a variety of arm gestures and fancy thumb movements with the joystick to move the cursor around on the screen, and to make things even more needlessly complicated, to punch in the letters I had to blindly press one of the four buttons on my left controller. I sighed in relief as I successfully typed everything in, I clicked the 'okay' button. Another box popped up asking for a character name. I sighed in frustration and once again struggled with the stupid keyboard and controls. For lack of creativity and time, I used my current mmorpg name.

'Bleu'

It accept on the first name attempt.

This was going to be a long day, on top of my already long ass day.

The loading bar appeared along with a count down clock, with two minutes remaining, in the upper right corner of my vision. Behind the loading bar was a rather crappy rendering of an empty city street ,with a dozen square buildings lining it, this was first generation 3D quality graphics. I wrinkled my nose in disappointment, I had at least expected some decent graphics out of the software. I rocked the helmet forward again as the pointy object dug in a little bit more at my neck, instead the entire helmet dropped forward nearly falling off, shaking my vision in the 3D world. They should probably have a chin strap on the helmet for safety reasons, you could break a foot with this thing if it dropped off you head.

“Marina,” I turned my head toward Nancy's voice, which really just changed my view of the bland city street, “Please stand up in preparation for the demo.” I didn't want to stand up, but I did anyways.

The the loading bar showed 51% completion, considering the crappy graphics I didn't know what was taking so long, my phone could load this faster. In the background I could hear a voice, not Nancy's, speaking to the crowd.

“Tech Corp.” The voice said, something must have been playing on the screens because people were making small noises of appreciation. “Revolutionizing virtual reality software and technology. Our state of the art facilities...”

I held back my snort of disbelief. Yeah, this was revolutionary, I thought as I looked at the High School level graphics software surrounding me, sort of disappointing really. I cracked my neck from the strain of holding up the helmet, and in another futile attempt to get away from the pointy object. Loading bar at 68%, I was getting a headache from looking at the bright unchanged, textureless, graphics shown behind the loading bar. I tired to move one of the joysticks being held by my right hand, but nothing moved on screen, instead I turned my head, carefully so the helmet would move with me, to look at the building closest to me. It was slate grey with small holes in the smooth walls to denote windows, and one large one for a door, no details, or any sort of defining features to separate this building from any of the others on this empty street. The loading bar was at 98% I prepared to load in, hopefully it would look better after the loading bar completed. I felt embarrassed for the artists and programmers at Tech Corp, they really weren't ready for this game play demonstration.

“Today, we are making history. Today, we are revolutionizing the industry! Today is the birth of a new world. Today is the dawn of Cosmos, the first ever fully immersive gaming experience.” The man's voice announced dramatically.

Wait... what?

The count down beeped its completion right as the loading bar finished at 100%.

The screen went black.

“Welcome to Cosmos, I will be your temporary guide through the set up of your character profile and tutorial, Bleu.” A pleasant masculine voice announced from within the surrounding darkness. I lifted my hands to adjust the helmet, I must of flipped it around my head so my eyes were on the interior and not the visor, which is when I realized I didn't have arms. I  couldn't feel my arms or hands. Actually, know that I thought of it, I couldn't feel anything.

“Uh?...” I said, shocking myself, I honestly didn't think I had a voice either, I coughed to clear my apparently nonexistent vocal cords “Sorry? But I think I have a wee little problem.” I announced to the pleasant man.

“No need to apologies, Bleu. Please be more specific as to the nature of this problem.” He calmly stated.

“I don't seem to be able to move, nor can I see anything.” I said calmly, panic doesn't solve anything, never has never will... “Did I fall asleep... am I dreaming?”

“As you do not currently have a body, it would by quite natural not to be able to visibly see, hear, sense, or feel anything. You are also, to my currently knowledge, not currently sleeping or dreaming, Bleu.” He stated. “Am I boring you?”

“How do I get a body? And no, no you are being awfully helpful, thank you” I was pretty sure I was dreaming, and at some point, a very angry Asian woman was going to be yelling at me and Derrick was going to take his fifty dollars back.

“You are most welcome, Bleu, I am glad to be of assistance. We are currently in the character design and profile of Cosmos. You are allowed only one avatar, once we have created your avatar, you will be uploaded to the game servers. You will not be able to return to this room once we are finished. Please be aware, that besides cosmetic changes, your avatar will be permanent and will be used to represent you.” He stated.

“Okay. How do we make an avatar?” I asked humouring the dream voice.

“I will begin with your current representation of yourself.” The voice said, out of the darkness a hairless woman's body appeared, completely naked. I turned beat red and tried to look away, lacking a body myself, this was impossible. I was forced to stare at her, which is how I realized it was me. How the Hell did they get the colour of my nipples right? I was slightly– no I was disturbed, I should ask my co-worker if she would be willing to take some of those shifts back this week, clearly it was starting to have a deep psychological impact. “Is this an accurate representation of yourself?”

“Uh, besides being completely hairless, and.... naked. Disturbingly enough, yes, this is a perfect representation of myself.” I looked down the alien smoothness of my body's legs in appreciation, razors cost money, money I couldn't afford to spend on luxury goods, I hadn't shaved in over a month. Oh god, I froze my thoughts as realization struck me, I was admiring my naked body. Again I tried to look away, and again, my lack of body made this impossible.

“Clothing and a beginners package will be gifted to you once you are uploaded to the servers. Is there anything you wish to change with your avatars appearance?” My naked body began to turn on an imaginary pedestal before my– awareness? Consciousness?

“Yeah, could I get hair... I mean hair on my head, and eyebrows. I would like eyebrows. Please?” I asked looking at the blank expression on my face. “And my eyes are brown, like dark brown, and eye lashes, eye lashes are good too. And if I may, could I have a darker skin tone? Oh and I have freckles, like all over the face. My dad's Spanish, my mom's Irish. ” I said, as way of explanation for the odd request.

“Is it safe for me to assume your hair colour is brown, to match your eyes, Bleu?” The voice asked as the changes occurred as I requested them.

“No, sorry. Got my blonde curly mess from mom. Dirty blonde, not that pretty white blonde all the girls gush about.” I replied, apologetically as my gorgeous brown locks disappeared to make way for the blonde curls. Oh, he made the curls tame and pretty, how sweet of him.

“No need to apologies, Bleu, it was an error on my part. I apologies, I do not know what all the girls 'gush' about, Bleu. Is this an accurate representation of yourself?”

“No problems, sir. Well, my hair is normally more frizzy, but I totally love those curls! And I'm a bit more on the anorexic side.” I paused, “Not on purpose! I totally love food! But you know, foods expensive and a girls gotta pay the bills to have a roof over her head!” My weight was a sore spot, there have been many nights in the past, and probably in the future, where I went to bed hungry just to pay the rent.

“I am glad you are enjoying my style choices, Bleu, I want you to be happy in your avatar. The current weight portrayed here is the lowest possible, any less and your game play will be affected. Please be sure to eat three full balanced meals every day to ensure your health meter does not become affected. It is also highly recommend that you drink at least 8 glasses of water a day to stay optimally hydrated.” The voice said sternly, “I will ensure you receive an extra food and water ration with your beginners package, Bleu, please take care of your health.” There was a long pause, “Is this an accurate representation of yourself, Bleu?”

“Could I get some hair on my... vagina. It's a little bare for my liking.” The change happened, had I had I been inhabiting the avatar right in front of me, my cheeks would be bright red by now. “Yeah, that's close enough to the real thing. That's me.”

“That is wonderful to hear, Bleu. We are now entering into the instructional tutorial. Please stand by.” My body disappeared, leaving me in darkness.

I let out a startled gasp as I felt the painful, yet ticklish, sensation of pins and needles all over my body, I looked down at my naked avatar. Well hot damn. I stopped to stare at my naked breasts for a couple of seconds in wonder, I lifting one of my right hands and poked at the left one. It moved, I felt it move, it felt real. “Oooookay...” I said out loud feeling the soft vibrations from my voice. This was weird, I pinched myself on my stomach, it hurt. What kind of fucked up, weird ass, dream was this?

“Hello, Bleu, and thank you for waiting.” The voice said from the darkness, “ I am now going to move us to an open grass field to begin the game play tutorial. Please close your eyes so as not to be blinded my the sunlight upon our arrival.” Confused, I did as directed. A startlingly bright light appeared causing my entire body to jerk back, the previous darkness was now replaced with the warm red glow from blood vessels in my eyelids. Furthermore, I could feel a soft warm breeze brushing against my naked flesh, and the cool grass under my feet. This was getting really weird and detailed. Who would have thought my imagination was this good. “While your eyes are closed, it would be most productive of your time to access your character profile. To do this, you need only keep them closed for 30 seconds, while mentally voicing your request. Please be warned that this will not pause game play and should only be done when you are in a safe location”

So far the voice had been awfully nice and reasonable, so I did as instructed. A purple pop up menu appeared, my eyes shot open in startled wonder only to be blinded by the bright sunlight. Crying out at the sudden pain, I curled in on myself, kneeling on the ground while I rubbed my eyes frantically. I opened them, blinking to clear my blurry vision of the dark spots, all I could see was green. I inhaled through my nose, I could smell the warm grass and dirt, inches away from my face, I leaned back a bit and stared, in shock, as the realistic looking grass came into focus a couple of centimetres from my face. In wonder my right hand came forward and plucked a stem from the ground, rolling it between my forefinger and thumb, without thinking I shoved it into my mouth and chewed. Tasted like grass.

“Bleu, are you hungry?” The voice asked, I could hear his concern at my sudden actions, my face heated up in embarrassment, I don't know why I ate the grass, but I did.  

“Uh, yeah, I am hungry, but it's all okay.” I laughed nervously as I sat on my folded legs, brushing my fingers through the grass in amazement. Was this all a highly advanced game? This was entirely too realistic to be anything but real life, however, questions arise in regards to the teleportation and general insanity of it all. 'Today is the dawn of Cosmos, the first ever fully immersive gaming experience...' No way, that was impossible. The technology didn't exist, it wasn't even close. I may not be a VR gamer, but I did follow the technology enough to have a general idea on how it worked. VR games didn't come with taste, smell, or the current sense of touch this 'game' was portraying. It was impossible.  

“Bleu, may I recommend that you not eat grass in the future? The high cellulose content found in the common grass strain is hard for humans to digest, therefore having no true nutritional value. Consumption is not recommended. If you are suffering from Pica, a condition in which you crave the consumption of non-food items, this may be signs of malnutrition. Please consult a healer when you are uploaded onto the server.” The voice said, distracting me from my thoughts “In the meantime, please attempt to load your character profile so I might lead you through it. I will attempt to do this swiftly so that you might sate your hunger when we are finished.”

“Yeah, thanks, I don't suffer from... Pika? I just ate the grass too.... you know what, never mind.” I closed my eyes and thought of the pop up menu, just like its name, it popped up. Keeping my eyes

closed I announced to the space around me, “Menu is open.”  

It was a standard character profile menu. The left corner had a picture of myself, a picture that looked an awful lot like my government identification photo, complete with original frizzy curls and the odd unforgiving freckles dotting my face. Above my picture was my real name in faded grey, Marina Callaghan-Castro, below my picture was my gaming name, Bleu, in bright white, and under that was my birth date and age, also in grey, along with my current game level in white, which showed a big fat zero. The rest was just a large blank purple screen

“What's with all this information?” I asked the voice.

“All information in grey, including your personal profile image, is only viewable to yourself, your marital partner, and in some case, should they have a high enough level, a healer. As you advance through Cosmos, the menu will change in accordance to your needs. Once you are uploaded onto the game servers, other menu options will become available. This information will include such things as your game alignment, current affiliation, fame, infamy, guild, job class, and more will be shown.” As the voice stated this, parts of the column under my picture began to fill in with grey information. “Focusing on any part of the menu for more then 5 seconds, will open the secondary menu to the right of your picture column.” Another column appeared next to my picture, “This is your in depth profile showing your current health level, power level, and stamina. Unless someone is a healer, has high empathy levels, or are affiliated with you in some way, these will remain hidden.”

“Okay. This seems really in depth for  a game.” I said under my breath looking at all the greyed out information. “So, Cosmos has class features? Like jobs and stuff that earn you money?”

“Cosmos has a vast array of jobs available for all players in a variety of different fields. Some jobs require less skills than others, while others require Apprenticeship documents or Master documents, it is important that you speak with the individual hiring you, to be certain you are best suited to the aforementioned career choice.” The voice carried on, “Job's will earn you some coin, depending on your skills, this coin varies, you must speak and negotiate with the hiring party about how much you will earn. You may also earn money by looking at the market boards, located in all towns and communities, or speaking with towns people for quests.” He stopped speaking and nothing was moving on the menu so I opened my eyes to the bright sunlit meadow.

“Okay, is there a help menu I can use once this tutorial is done?” I asked, I knew I was going to forget half of what he told me the minute I was 'uploaded', not that it mattered much, the demo I was taking part in was only supposed to last about an hour or so. If this was a game, and not some sort of psychotic breakdown or really weirdly detailed dream. I didn't want to think to much into the entire thing. Go with the flow.

“No, Bleu. I am sorry. You may ask any of the NPC's for assistance in any normal world features. Inquiring about anything game related will be met with confusion. I will upload you with extra food and water rations, and a couple extra coins so you might be comfortable. It has been most enjoyable interacting with you. I wish you the best in game play.” He stated. There was a hesitation before he started up again,“Before I upload you, there are a couple things I should tell you, dying within the game will kill your avatar, ending your life and Zero Gates are guarded by the most powerful of bosses. Please use caution, Bleu.”

“Thank you. What is your name? I forgot to ask, sorry.” I asked looking around nervously, was I going to teleport again, or did I need to walk around naked to find a door or something.

“I have no name, but you may call me, Cosmos, Bleu. Good luck.”

The world faded to black.

I awoke? Opened my eyes? Appeared with my eyes open, and a horrible sensation of pins and needles again in a forest, naked, with a bag at my feet. That might be more accurate. I looked down at said bag. Damn this game felt real.

“Jesus fuck, are you fucking kidding me! What does a guy need to do around here get some fucking information!” A very much– not– pleasant mans voice yelled from directly behind me. I turned my head around and froze. Naked man at 6 o'clock. Not cool. Did not want to see a naked man while I was this tired.

“Hey, do me a favour and don't turn around, would you.” I asked turning my head back around to mind my own business. I knelt down carefully, no need to do a peep show, so I could open the large canvas bag to inspect the contents for the promised clothing. They were right on top, a heavy rough undyed linen tunic, a strip of corded leather to act as a belt, and a pair of heavily patched leather trousers, perfect. Standard beginners clothing.

“Uh, sorry. Thought I was alone here.” The naked man said from behind me. “Names... uh, Massive Eclipse.”

“There should be clothes in your bag” I said in reply, I was stumbling on one foot with the trousers, leather was really hard to put on, “Name's Bleu.”

“Nice to meet you, Bleu, I would shake your hand but...” He trailed off as he opened his own bag. I could hear him rummaging though it loudly.

“Yeah, same here.” I finally pulled the leather trousers up– guess I was going commando, I thought as I looked in the bag again, and apparently I was going braless and shoeless. Hopefully I wouldn't be doing much running.

“Uh, can I turn around now?” Eclipse asked, I was just pulling on the stiff linen tunic so I hummed my agreement. Not that it mattered, he had turned around anyways– what was the point of asking for permission if you were going to turn around anyways? “So, crazy game interface huh. If I didn't know better, I would say I was dreaming or got knocked out and dragged off to the middle of nowhere.”  

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said as I picked up my bag and swung it onto my shoulders. We were in what looked like a very old forest, “Where do you think we should go from here? I didn't see any map in my bag.” I asked, looking at my... would he be a partner? Fellow stranded gamer?

“I was told to walk around a town, not a forest...” He said looking around at all the greenery. The forest was quiet, all you could hear was wind rustling through the leaves and tree trunks creaking. “Have ever seen trees this big before?”

“I live in British Columbia, big trees like these can be found in the park behind my apartment building.” I answered, I rubbed my hand against one of the largest trees in our little clearing, feeling the rough texture and grooves. Looking up I could just see the blue sky and sunlight peeping through the branches and leaves. Had I not just spent fifteen to twenty minutes working my way through a weird tutorial and character design, I might have believed I was just dropped off in a forest somewhere.

I closed my eyes, willing the character menu to appear. I needed to check to make sure that wasn't exactly what this was. A purple menu popped up. My heart skipped a beat. My picture was the exact same, but now there was a bright white tab right under it, I focused on it, my picture was replaced with my character image from the design process. Okay, I opened my eyes and took a calming breath. Okay, I am not going to start freaking out. I swallowed.

“Hey, you okay?” The man, Eclipse– I refused to call him Massive Eclipse– asked, he looked on worryingly, “You look awfully pale.”

“Uh, I just checked to make sure I was still in a game. Sorry.” I knelt down and pulled my bag onto my lap, I needed water, or food. “I also haven't slept in awhile so it's all just a little much.”

“Right, the menu thing.” He paused as he closed his eyes, I assumed it was to check his own character menu, “that's so fucked up.”

I nodded in agreement, only to realize that with his eyes closed he couldn't see, so I grunted out my agreement. I opened the bag and looked inside to see a couple of fruit, a small leather sack, and two large water bottles made of– I flicked my finger against the tall clear corked bottle– crystal? Weird. I uncorked one and took a swig, it was icy cold spring water. I sighed in relief as my thirst was quenched and corked the heavy bottle again in satisfaction, at this point, I wasn't going to think about how a virtual drink just satisfied my thirst. I reached into the bag and pulled a single apple and the leather purse out and carefully repacked the rest insuring the heavy crystal was at the bottom.

“Okay, I feel a bit better now.” I stood up from my knelt position and swung the bag over one shoulder. I opened the leather sack, which I had rightly assumed was my money purse, and saw ten silver coins. I pulled one out to inspect it. The coin had a profile of what looked like some sort of king or emperor on it, strong roman nose, stern expression, and a big fancy crown on top of his head.

“What's that?” Eclipse asked opening his eyes from his menu inspection, he was a lot taller then me so he had to hunch his upper body down to look at the coin closer. While he looked at the coin, I looked at him. Tall, tanned skin, well very built– I should know as I had seen his naked ass, thick brown hair and bright blue eyes, complete with a chiselled jaw line and dimpled chin. He pulled back from his inspection to riffle through his own bag, pulling out the same leather purse. “I've got six silver, how about you?”

“I've got ten silver,” I shook my head as I held up the purse. I remembered the voice, Cosmos, mentioning extra food and water rations along with a little extra coin. “How many food and water rations do you have?”

“Uh,” He looked back into his bag, “I have a small sack of dried fruits and nuts, a corked bottle of water, and an apple. Why do you have extra coin? Do you need some food or water?” He held up his bag in offering, “There's no telling when we'll find a town.”

“No, I'm okay. I have two apples, two plums, and a very large grapefruit, along with two bottles of water.” I said, “The voice in the tutorial said he was going to give me extra food and water rations, and couple extra coins.”

“Seriously? The guy was a complete jackass to me. We ended up in a yelling match–“ At my raised eyebrow he suddenly blushed, “Okay, so I was yelling at him and he was being all pleasant and shit about not answering my questions. Sadistic bastard. What did he expect? I didn't have a fucking body! And when we finally got around to designing my dream body, he just reverted it to–“ He waved his hand up and down himself, “My original looks. What was the point of spending all that time designing something, if your just going to make me ordinary?” He rolled his eyes in frustration, “and lets not even start on that farce of a tutorial. 'Close your eyes for thirty seconds while willing a menu to appear... oh look our time is up, so sorry, Massive Eclipse, good luck playing the game.' and BAM!” He clapped his hands together for added effect, “I end up here.”

“That's definitely not how it went down for me.” I said with an amused smile, I had to hold back my laughter at his exaggerated hand gestures and rapidly changing facial expressions, “I designed my body exactly as I normally look, and then he brought me into the tutorial part. I ended up eating the grass and he thought I was starving or suffering from malnutrition, so he said he was going to give me extra rations and money.”

“You ate the grass? Why did you eat the grass?” He asked incredulously. He once again hunched over to stare into my eyes looking deeply concerned, “Are you hungry?”

“No! Well, yes, but that wasn't why I ate the grass. I don't know why I ate the grass. It just seemed like a good thing to do at the time.” I yelled, defending my actions. I flicked his nose with my forefinger, “Don't stare at me like that, you're the one who got into a fight with a disembodied voice. ”

“Yeah, but you ate grass.” He laughed, slapping his rather large hand on my back, I nearly fell to my knees from the impact, “I think we're going to be great friends, Bleu. You eat grass and I get into fights with disembodied voices, match made in heaven... or Cosmos.” He shrugged. “Besides, you have more coin than me.” I grinned as he turned around to pick a direction to walk in, “Let's find that town and walk around it until the sexy French lady who plugged me in starts yelling directions at me, or logs me out.”