Everyday by C91Industries

Every day for the past few months…

Every day for the past few months, a girl in a hoodie has been walking down the street. You don’t know who she is, but she goes to and from the local college. Very shy and non-confrontational. She attempts to hide behind her clothes and the hoodie - it’s a crisp winter morning so you could easily assume she’s wearing athletic tights, but you can clearly tell from the horns and the ghostly face that it’s a poor attempt at deflecting what’s going on with her body. You’ve seen it many times before - it’s a ‘morph’ as they call them. You forgot the name of this one in particular, but it causes most of her body to become blackened and shiny, almost like she’s wearing a suit, green ‘swirly’ eyes, a protruded face with a slight bunny nose and, confusingly, no mouth. Instead, it’s just a series of dots used for gesturing. She understandably tries to avoid conversations.

On your way home everyday, you encounter her on this block. Every time you both pass, you look briefly, wave and go on. She similarly shoots up her hand out of her hoodie pocket, then quickly puts it back. You both go on your way. You’re not sure if it’s a good idea to talk to her, but it’s impossible to not look when she goes by.

Has it really been that long since it happened?

As you walked into the laundry room, you caught the sun showering itself through the window and into your eyes. It was another long day at school, and as the afternoon came to a close, you noticed it was getting easier to feel like ‘yourself’ in public. Even after moving to the city, nobody ever bothered you or tried to mock you, neither during classes nor on the streets. Despite getting occasional funny looks, you managed yourself pretty well.

Peeling your hoodie off over your head, you tossed it onto the washing machine. Wearing a bra wasn’t necessary anymore - the changes made them firm enough that they never jiggled or moved around much. You peeled off your shorts next, then the pink underwear beneath, every layer coming down like a protective armor revealing the true lyminal beneath. The underwear wasn’t necessary, either, but it felt weird without it.

You looked to the calender next to you - November already? You threw all your clothes into the washer, set it to the first cycle, then sat back in a chair, totally in the nude. You looked down at yourself, the dwindling sun rays bouncing off of your skin. Three years ago today… has it really been that long since it happened?

…you say hi and ask if she recognizes you.

Your shift at the record store was coming to a close with around an hour left. There were few patrons around this time of day, and you were going to close shop in around forty minutes, so you spent most of your time sitting on your phone and staring off into nothingness.

You groaned inwardly as you heard someone walk inside. You didn’t bother looking up, almost out of protest. There was only about twenty-five minutes left now. Don’t people know when to leave? You pulled away from your phone and tried searching for the customer, but the only thing you could spot was a pair of black horns sticking out behind an inventory shelf. Your jaw dropped. Immediately, you put down your phone and ran over.

Turning around the aisle, there she stood, sifting through a set of vinyl records. The same girl hiding behind her hoodie with the ghostly face, swirly blue eyes and the unhidable horns, pulling back records with a pair of seeingly gloved hands. Without thinking, you say hi and ask if she recognized you. The girl turned to look at you, but not directly, nodding and smiling, then turned back to the records. She pulled out a small notepad and began writing on it, then gave it to you.

“sorry can’t speak.”

Was rather obvious, but you nodded. Holy hell, you’re actually talking to her? And she comes to record stores? You asked if she knew any albums in particular she was looking for. She shook her head, then started writing down again.

“don’t like being around large groups of people. afraid of being judged. getting better at going out.”

You knew to some extent that anyone with the lyminal morph probably suffered from this, but it was surreal being so close to one in person. You had so many questions but didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask them, at least not yet.

You could no longer force yourself to act human

You stroked your gloved hand across your forearm, illuminated only by the phone in the pitch darkness of your room. The dotted mouth spell faded away as you powered down your defensive magick for the night, revealing the true blank canvas beneath. Your other defenses fell, too, as your mind filled with warm, comforting thoughts about servitude and loss of control. The doctor said it was okay to release these instincts at night as you couldn’t suppress them constantly - it was the nature of your being, after all."

“You didn’t know how to approach the guy at the record store anymore without scaring him off, or anyone for that matter. You were pretty sure he was just being nice to you but kept his pity silent. You feared what a relationship as a lyminal would be like. You feared getting too close to anyone as you swore to never let this new nature of yours spill out.”

“The lock on your hand - maybe someday. Maybe you’ll turn back. Who knows, but until then, you were a full-blooded, instinct driven lyminal, bells and whistles and all. You could no longer force yourself to act human - because, in reality, you weren’t.”

Blue Eyed Rene

Rene’s Design 2023

I’ve been playing around with a new design for Rene recently. If you guys remember this one, it’s basically a more punk-infused direction. Not sure about the “Punishment” logo on the chest yet but she’s lookin good so far.