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salemwritesxx · 3 years

Text

agony

↳ pro-hero Bakugou x lieutenant reader

summary: Bakugou has been kidnapped by a villain. Getting tortured live on camera, Lieutenant Y/n is frantically doing everything he and his team can to find out his lovers whereabouts so he can save him. Though, as crazy and childish the villain may seem at first glance, they are very intelligent and lead Y/n on a merry chase.

w.count: 3.7k

content warning: kidnapping, torture / blood / death, angst / dark themes with a happy ending

An ear-piercing scream echoed through the tiny, dark room, Katsuki’s naked body shaking and twitching, almost blacking out from all the pain as blood dripped from his back. He had tried for so long to suppress his sounds, but eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, making the villain laugh in a rush of ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, finally. Scream for me, little hero pup.”, they almost moaned out in bliss, before they started hitting Bakugou’s bloody back, the whip had already left deep cuts on his skin.

Seeing mere blinking little dots as everything was so close to fading into black, his last thoughts were dedicated to you as the usually high and mighty Katsuki thought a pleading, “Please… I can’t take it anymore…”, before he couldn’t hold his head up any longer and darkness engulfed him.

Looking back to your PC where a livestream of your lover getting tortured had been running for the last four days. Katsuki was naked, blood-smeared and broken, and all you could do was watch as you frantically tried to gain information where that bastard villain was hiding.

“Lieutenant!”, an officer, and good friend of yours, came into your office.

“Make it quick Aki!”, you barely growled – though he didn’t take offense to that, knowing what you were going through right now was something no one could probably even fully imagine, having your significant other taken away and tortured…

“Y/n, we have finally located him.”, Aki said, getting your full attention immediately as you leaned over to look at the map on his tablet. “Our tech team finally managed to trace the signal were he sent the live footage from. At first, the signal came from all over Japan, China, North and South Korea-“

“Aki!”, you didn’t have time for much explaining and he understood, hence he zoomed into the map.

“It’s here. A field up north, almost 300 miles away. We cannot pinpoint it yet, but it’s in a 4 mile radius from the nearest transmitter. Y/n… we got them! They won’t be able to flee.”

You were hopeful, but you also needed to stay calm, thus you took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Tell our team they should get out of there.”

“But, Lieutenant! With just a little more time, we could pinpoint the exact location!”

“No! The villain managed signals to appear all over four different countries. They are psychotic but also incredibly intelligent and if we dig deeper, they might realize we almost have them.”, you then stood up and took your long, black coat. “Let’s hope they haven’t already found out. Tell the tech team to stop, they should be careful not to leave any digital footprint behind that could possibly make the villain run away!”

As you walked out the door, you turned one last time to Aki, “Send the location to all available officers and pro-heroes in the north, as well as a healing heroes and an ambulance just in case. I want as many as I can get! I will be there in 5 hours.”

“Yes, Lieutenant!”

And with that, you nodded and walked out and to your car.

“Don’t worry, Baby… I’m going to safe you. Please endure it for just a little while longer.”, you mumbled to yourself as you almost floored the accelerator after inputting the coordinates into your GPS.

“Rise and shine, Sunshine!”, Katsuki heard in the background, still sounding very dull though, his head – no – everything hurting, before-

“HAH!”, he gasped in shock when they splashed a bucket of cold water all over his aching body.

“There you are. My, you are such a gross little hero. You literally peed yourself after our session last time.”, they shook their head and sighed, “Such a bad boy. But I guess it can’t be helped, huh?”

If Bakugou had just a little bit of strength left, he would have growled and yelled at the villain, but he simply couldn’t. He was cold, gross and in so much pain. If those fucked up handcuffs wouldn’t suppress his quirk, he would have killed that bastard right then and there.

“Aww, don’t look at me like that, hm?”, they patted his head as if he was a mere pet, “I know, I know. You don’t like peeing inside your home either, right? Silly me forgot to take you out on a walk. Forgive me.”

Though all Katsuki did was spit right into their face while not backing down and staring at the villain with his gleaming ruby eyes.

“Such a brat.”, was the last thing the villain said, obviously very furious, before they reached to the whip yet again.

“Guess I have to discipline you again, my little pet hero! Be nice and look into the camera for your lovely Y/n to see it.”

After a continuous drive of around five hours, you finally managed to arrive – it was a big open field and then a giant forest behind that. The moment you got out of the car, you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy search, but you were determined to find your lover.

“Lieutenant Y/n?”

“Yes?”, you turned around to meet another officer.

“I am Lieutenant Han. We have all special pro-heroes and available officers here. They are already searching the area in groups in all 4 directions. I am confident we can find the villain and the person they kidnapped.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Han.”, you shook his hand tightly, “I apologize it all happened so abruptly but I greatly appreciate your help.”

Han nodded, then got you a walkie-talkie, before he also started searching in the radius your tech team calculated.

“To all units, this is Lieutenant Y/n. The villain we are searching for is incredibly strong. They somehow managed to make anti-quirk weapons and other equipment. Being hit or tied by them will nullify any and all quirks. We don’t know for how long, but we know it is immediate, so if possible, stay away and don’t attack them directly.”

Then, your search began as well.

His head was hanging low, blood trickling over his body and yet, it wasn’t so much that it would be live-threatening, that’s the one thing the villain cared about, wanting to see him suffer for as long as possible.

“Bah! You are so fucking nasty and stink!”, he yelled and hit him again. It’s not like Bakugou wasn’t aware of that, he grossed himself out, but what was he supposed to do when he was cuffed to a chair for the past four days?

“I need to get some fresh air, you stay here.”, they said as if Katsuki could actually move.

Though, in reality, as the villain walked outside of the room, he started tugging on the cuffs yet again. His wrist were already hurting so much, they were already wounded terribly and yet, he didn’t stop fighting. He couldn’t.

Bakugou was not giving up. He had never been someone to give up, even if he was dizzy from the blood loss, even if everything hurt and he had to clench his teeth to silently cry as his bones broke when he pulled the hand through the cuff eventually, it was all worth it in the end.

After four days, he was finally free. Though, he couldn’t feel the rush of his quirk pumping through his veins, which was… terrifying. Bakugou actually didn’t think that much ahead – he was free now, but what to do next? He was weak, dehydrated, hungry and in pain, so what was he going to do now?

Wobbly standing on his bare feet, he walked to the door, however, as Katsuki heard footsteps, he immediately retreated and hid in the darkness, trying to calm his breathing.

The moment, the villain walked in and he wasn’t sitting on the chair anymore, Katsuki reeked his chance and just ran past him and out of the door, though it wasn’t over so easily as the villain yelled in anger and used his whip, catching Bakugou around his ankle to make him stumble and fall, his naked self laying on the hard wooden flooring of the tiny cabin and crying out in pain as his broken hand was pulsating horribly.

“You are such a bad pet! BAD, BAD, BAD!”, they almost screamed, though right now, Katsuki had his flight instinct activated – he was not going to get back into the tiny, dark room. Grabbing the whip, he surprised the villain as he pulled them closer harshly, making them stumble, thus being able to kick them in their stomach to paralyze them for a few seconds due to pain.

Hastily getting rid of the whip around his ankle, he moaned in pain as every step hurt when he stood back up, but he was determined and through immense anguish and on shaking legs, he ran outside, being greeted by so many trees and a thick forest.

Not knowing what to do, Bakugou just ran. His naked feet were dirty and soon little cuts from all different sharp things on the ground made it even more challenging to keep going, but he just wanted to escape.

“STAY RIGHT HERE!”, he heard a screech behind him and then, a loud bang that made him flinch and kneel down in panic – they had a gun, great, and he was quirkless right now...

But Bakugou didn’t stay in that position for long, running as fast as his weak body allowed, shielding just his most private and sensitive area with his hand so tree branches or bushes wouldn’t injure him while pressing his broken hand against his chest to not hurt it any more.

When the bang echoed through the field and forest, you turned around immediately, your walkie-talkie also going off instantly, “Lieutenant did you hear that?!”

“Everyone, stay alerted.”, and so, you ran into the direction.

Your drew your own gun as you ran up north in the direction of the forest.

As Katsuki ran and ran, he slowly saw a literal light at the end of the tunnel, the forest clearing up as lesser trees were surrounding the area until he finally broke free and into an open field. And that’s where he saw you, you were literally a few feet away from him, hence he couldn’t help but cry your name.

When you turned around, it was like thousands of pounds were lifted from your heart, though you knew it wasn’t over yet as another bang was heard, Bakugou rushing into your direction, he didn’t care if he wasn’t strong when he sobbed your name, he didn’t care if he was smelling and looking so unbelievable gross right now, all he cared about, was seeing you right there, opening your arms the moment you made eye-contact with him.

“Y/n, Y/n!”, your lover cried and hiccupped your name as tears streamed down his face, throwing himself into your embrace. You didn’t care about anything as well, simply taking off your coat and wrapping it around Bakugou’s naked, bloody body as you gently hugged him.

“I’m here, Baby Boy. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

“I didn’t give up… I promise.”, he barely whispered.

“I know, Katsuki, I know. You are so strong.”, though you couldn’t be happy about having him in your arms for much longer when the villain also finally rushed out of the thick forest.

“Ahha, what a pain. I can’t believe my pet ran away like that. Now I have to get it back, so excuse me, Sir, but that is mine.”, they were mocking you and it made you furious.

Katsuki was clawing at you, his face buried in your uniform vest. Just hearing the villains voice made him shake, the reality that he was out of there only slowly settling in.

Holding out your gun with one hand, the other holding your boyfriend close, you saw in the corner of your eyes that other heroes and police officers were approaching, hence you tried to buy some time as you said, “Yours? Yes, right. The last time I checked, owning other people was illegal.”

“Then why don’t you listen!?”, they suddenly threw a tantrum, how was someone like that so intelligent, you wondered, “That’s why I said he was my pet! He is my pet, my pet, my pet! This is MY PET!”, he screamed, making Katsuki flinch and cover his ears as he couldn’t bare hearing his screaming anymore after so many days having to deal with it.

“Stop it right there, or I’ll shoot!”, you then yelled when he came closer again in a fit of rage, though he didn’t listen as he pulled his own gun out.

“GIVE ME BACK MY PET!”

Then, there was another loud bang and the screaming suddenly stopped.

When Bakugou slowly looked back, there they were. Laying on the field, their gun besides them and with a gunshot wound in their head.

“Y/n…”, slowly looking up, he witnessed how you threw away your own gun beside you into the field, before wrapping both of your arms around him.

“It’s okay now. No one will hurt you again.”

With relief washing over him, Katsuki was sobbing again as his naked legs gave in, though you were there, catching him and carrying him bridal style with your coat cover him.

“Lieutenant!”, Han was the first to approach you, “We saw what happened. You had to shoot…”, then they looked to Bakugou, “I see…”

“Lieutenant Han, I want officers to take the villains weapon. We need to find out the mechanics behind them and how they can nullify quirks.“, then you turned around to walk to the ambulance car where healing heroes were waiting.

“Of course. And Lieutenant? A few of our heroes have found a cabin deep in the woods. We can confirm it’s where they held the victim hostage.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Han.”, then you walked away.

As he was laying there, healing heroes tended to his heavily wounded back, while you sat beside him, holding his hand that had an IV needle in it, giving him the needed hydration and nutrients.

Bakugou was embarrassed though. He was thankful they were such professionals, not even flinching when you carried him over even though he was smelling so disgusting. No, they were simply doing their job.

He might have been kidnapped and tortured, but with rescue heroes there that could immediately tend to his wounds and hook him up to an IV needle, he didn’t need to be transferred to an actual hospital. It was just something that was reserved for very badly injured patients and heroes, and even though he had deep wounds from the whip, he still wasn’t “injured enough” to be hospitalized – a little fucked up, honestly, but on the other hand, he was glad, because it meant he could go home with you on the spot.

After having his biggest wounds and broken hand treated thanks to the heroes, you two sat in comfortable silence as you caressed his hand softly, waiting for the infusions to be done.

“I’m sorry I smell like literal shit…”, he then broke the quietness, though not looking at you as he was too ashamed.

“Don’t say that. You survived and endured something so extreme. No one blames you, so don’t apologize.”, gently touching his bloody face, you turned it so he would have to meet your eyes, “I’m so relieved you are here now and your wounds are healed. I’m so proud of you for enduring it. You are literally the strongest hero I know.”

“Y/n…”, tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed your hand to squeezed it, “Thank you.”

Squeezing his hand back, you softly shook your head and smiled at him, “Hey, I called at the nearest motel so you can take a bath and eat and get some sleep. I’ll stop at the convenient store before that, okay? And tomorrow, we will drive home so you can rest.”

“Hmh.”, Bakugou simply nodded, a smile flitting across his lips, “That sounds nice… I might call my agency, too. I don’t know if I can go back to work immediately…”

“Yes! You should absolutely take a break, Baby.”, holding his hand tighter, you looked very serious, “Something traumatizing happened to you, no one expects you to get back to work like nothing happened. And if you need help – professional help – then I’ll be here to support you, okay? I’ll always have your back.”

“No, I… I just need you.”, and even if it may seem a little naïve to not get professional help so he could come to terms with what had happened in the last four days, the way you looked at him, with love and adoration, even though he was a stinking, gross mess, he just knew all he needed was you to be able to forget.

“And I’ll be here for you. Always.”

As he stood in the little bathroom of the hotel and vigorously brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth multiple times, Katsuki could get a good look at himself for the first time since he had been out of the dark, tiny room back in the cabin. He look so bad, so broken and blood everywhere on his naked body.

Putting away the toothbrush you had bought at the convenient store, he took a deep breath and shook his head a bit to get rid of the nagging thoughts in his mind, before walking over to the bathtub and easing himself into the hot water.

As he was sitting there for a few seconds though, a sudden wave of loneliness overcame him, anxiously looking around while trying to gulp down the big lump in his throat, feeling so… suffocated and like back in the tiny, dark room, chained to a chair-

Abruptly standing up and – as wet as he was – Katsuki got out of the bathtub, stumbling to the door to rip it open with a “Y/n!?”, only to see you were sitting on the bed, your phone in your hand.

For a second, you looked confused, completely surprised by his sudden outburst, just to put away the phone immediately.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”, swiftly walking to the bathroom, your arms were slung around his naked body, dried blood all over him still, though you didn’t care, making him ease into your hug instantly as he buried his face at your chest.

“Come with me…”, Bakugou barely mumbled so weakly, though you quickly nodded and whispered an “Okay.”, showing him you weren’t going anywhere anymore.

Walking back into the bathroom, he hated the thought of being so… weak. But he simply couldn’t shake the anxious feeling, however he knew you weren’t blaming him, not after what he had to go through.

Undressing yourself, you joined him in the bathtub eventually, thought this time, standing in it instead of sitting down as he had unplugged the drain. It was small and cramped, especially for two grown men, but maybe that was exactly what he had needed now – to feel you. Your body pressed against his.

“I’m going to wash you, okay?”, you said in a hushed tone, not wanting to startle him.

“Okay.”

Turning on the shower head on the wall, Katsuki turned around so his back was facing you, your hands combing through his hair, washing away the dirt and blood as well as letting your hand slowly glide along his back, making him flinch and kind of jerk away from you a bit.

“I’m sorry, Baby.”

“No, it’s okay…”, gulping a bit, he quickly washed his face as well, washing away the traces of being held hostage.

“Hey, turn around for me, Kat.”, turning off the water, you reached for shampoo you had bought in the convenient store as well, taking a small amount and then massaging it into his hair, the soft sigh escaping his lips immediately making you smile a little.

“That feels nice?”

“Hmh.”, his ruby eyes were closed and his hands were holding you around your waist, not really wanting to let go in fear that this was all a dream.

It was quiet, but it wasn’t a suffocating silence anymore, knowing you were right in front of him, massaging his scalp and getting off all the dirt from the last days out. As you turned on the water again to rinse out the shampoo, you then also traveled to his beautiful face, gently drawing circles with your thumb to wash away little patches of blood. Katsuki slowly opened his eyes again to look at you.

“Thank you for saving me.”, he then quietly said, which only earned him your smile.

“Hey… I would have traveled across the world and turned around every pebble to find you and get you back. Because I love you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out there… being tortured, alone with that psycho…”

It made his heart jump and tears welled up in his eyes, before Bakugou slung his arms around your neck to pull you down and press his lips against your own, flinching a little in the process due to the small cuts on them stinging a bit.

“I love you… thank you.”, were the only things he mumbled, only to get pulled in once more to drown in your sweet kisses, something he definitely needed right now.

After getting out of the shower, he put on some of the clothes you had gotten from the convenient store as well, just so he didn’t have to keep being naked, even if the ‘one size fits all’ didn’t properly fit and was a bit tight due to his muscular built, at least he was covered.

Crawling into bed, or rather onto the futon, Katsuki immediately flopped into your warm embrace as you joined him, hugging him tightly and making sure to hold him protectively. It was a comfortable silence as you drew on his back and combed through his hair, softly caressing him so he relaxed against you completely.

All he needed to feel better was right in his arms. Being able to snuggle against you, knowing he was home and not in that tiny, dark room anymore. It was a little scary and he knew it wouldn’t be easy in the next weeks as he tried to forget what had happened, though he had already come to terms with one kidnapping, so Katsuki was sure he could learn to live with the scars of his second one as well, especially now that he had you who supported and loved him.

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

writer’s note: I am in such an angsty mood lately and I apologize xD

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bakugou x you #bakugou angst #angst with happy ending #angst

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starryseung · 3 years

Text

hwang hyunjin + smut

word count; 1.7k words

warnings; unprotected drunk post break up hate sex , angsty as fuck , dom! hyunjin , drunk! reader and hyunjin , master kink , mentions of hyunjin and/or reader fucking around and cheating , toxic relationship , implied edging , overstimulation , reader cries , hyunjin is a fucking asshole

One Night Stand

“let’s get out of here babe,”

the words are softer than a whisper, but the way the voice is zoomed in on your neck, the heavy alcoholic scent brushing against your skin, you can hear him perfectly under the loud bass playing in the club.

you wouldn’t say you were completely sober either, which partially justified why you said ‘yes’ to a complete stranger you were grinding your butt against, hands reaching back to tangle in his hair and bring his lips closer to your neck.

it was when you finally got out of the loud, congested club, the cool breeze hitting your face, when you realized what you were doing. the guy had a dark leather jacket falling off his shoulders, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you to the motel behind the club. his bright blond hair rang a few alarms in your head, but you weren’t quite sure yet as to who the guy was.

your vision is blurry, but clear enough to make out you had finally entered a small motel, the blond handing some money to the guy behind the desk before pulling you closer to him, his hand on your hip as he walks down the hall with rough steps to match your pace, teeth digging down on his bottom lip. fumbling with the keys in his hands, he finally shoves it in the lock, opening the door.

you aren’t given a second to breathe, hands pushing you against the wall before plush lips come in contact with your neck.

“h—hyunjin,” you whimper, your hand weakly running up to his hair, tugging at the ends.

the male’s movements stop, fingers tightening on your waist. just then you could smell the citrus essence shampoo from his hair, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol messing with your senses, or if it really was your ex, with his hands on your hips while his semi-hard crotch rubbed against you, his warm breath fanning against your neck.

his lips press against your shoulder once again, this time his teeth parting to bring the skin in between before nibbling down on it, your neck craning back to give him more space. your eyes tear up just a bit, whether it’s the sting of your supposed ex biting your neck, marking you down, or your supposed ex entirely — you don’t care.

moving back, lips red, you get a clear view of him and now you’re sure it’s hyunjin — not surprised.

“didn’t fuck before breaking up—” he grunts, tossing you on the bed before pushing his hips down on yours, the prominent tent in his pants pressing against your clothed heat, “—and i really need it, especially now.”

“a—are you clean?” he scoffs at your question, head moving up to face you.

“it hasn’t been long since we broke up, i don’t find girls that easy,” he hisses, rutting his hips against yours while moving his lips down to your exposed chest, sucking over your skin.

“thought you would’ve fucked forty by now,” you smirk, before hyunjin bites down on you, whimper leaving you as he grins, shifting to unbutton your shirt. latching his lips onto your breasts he hums, rolling his tongue around your nipple as his nimble fingers tweak your right one, pinching it softly as you arch your back into his touch. “still as sensitive as i remember,” he hums against your breast, giggling softly.

“i don’t f—fuck around like you,” you stutter, his soft lips wrapped around your hardened nub before sucking at it. “you’ve become too bratty, hmm?”

hyunjin moves lower, and you bring your hips up, and he pulls down your shorts with a soft chuckle, muttering a ‘so eager’ under his breath. you feel his lips press above your heat, tongue pressed flat against your clothed folds. “who am i kidding, you were always a little brat”

the words roll off his lips too easily, your panties sticking further to your wet cunt as a whine leaves your lips. you couldn’t forget how hyunjin would punish you when you touched yourself when he was away, or when you acted out of your way to tease him, especially in front of the members. his fingers digging in your thighs, tongue lapping against your folds as he edged you for god knows how many times, then topping it off with his heavenly cock stuffing you full until you couldn’t speak — you couldn’t forget all of this, no matter what.

soon enough, hyunjin’s lips are on your bare pussy, sucking eagerly as you thrash above him, one hand having the sheets beneath you in a death grip, while the other tangled in hyunjin’s hair, tugging at his scalp. the pressure he applied each time grew harder and harder, until his tongue pushed between your folds, your walls instantly clenching around his muscle as he groaned. hyunjin himself was subconsciously grinding down on the bed, movements messy as his hands spread your thighs apart, face pushing in further between your legs as he eats you out like his last meal.

your whines grow louder and louder, orgasm at bay while hyunjin’s tongue laps your folds, curling in before he pulls out for a breather, replacing his mouth with his fingers. slowly pushing in two fingers, he groans at the feeling of your tightness clenching around him as you curse, moaning aloud as he curls them inside of you. starting a steady pace, he starts thrusting his digits in you, scissoring you open.

“f—fuck, master, gonna cum,”

his fingers stop, eyes training up to look at your face, smirking at the name you just called him. a pang of guilt stings his chest, lips faltering when he realizes just how much you had given yourself to him, to the relationship you both had taken years to strengthen, before he blew it, watching it fall like a house of cards before walking away with someone he found, online.

shaking the thoughts off his head, knowing that it was the "drunk hyunjin" messing with him right now, he pumps his fingers in your hole, soft squelches leaving your pussy at the speed of his wrists snapping in you. you cry out, bucking your hips to match his pace, head thrown back into the freshly laundered pillows under you, legs trembling.

“hyun—master, pl—please,” you whimper loudly like a bitch in heat, eyebrows scrunching as hyunjin palms your clit, rubbing the calloused skin against your sensitive buds. a single tear rolls down your eye and down on the pillow, before another, and another, until you sob softly, your orgasm washing down on you as hyunjin’s fingers still piston in and out of you, not slowing down any time soon. you whine out, squirming under his gaze to get away from the burning sensation building in your core.

hyunjin stops, before the fuzzy sound of a zipper is heard, the bed shifting near your legs. your hold on the sheets beneath loosens, his hand coming down to your waist to gently knead the soft flesh.

you knew it was the alcohol running in your veins, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts evading your mind, the feeling of hyunjin’s warm hand that would comfort you by rubbing against your cold skin, the then comforting sensation turning into nothing but anxiety and heartbreak now.

your drunk train of thoughts is abruptly interrupted by hyunjin’s tip prodding against your folds, a mewl leaving your swollen lips as you feel him slowly push in deeper, a moan grumbling out his own lips at the feeling of your soft, tight walls around his cock, squeezing him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, shit,” he curses, head dropping down as he cracks open an eye, jaw clenching at the outline of his cock on your abdomen, fingers instinctively reaching out to trace above it; “fuck, how did i never notice this,”

“you were t—too busy thinking of s—someone else when we fucked,” you sigh shakily, feeling him bottom out in you as you clenched around him. he pulled out, pushing back in as he stared at awe at the prominent bump on your belly, pressing his hand down on you before cursing a loud "fuck!" at the feeling of your walls spasming around his dick further, a moan leaving your lips at the tight feeling in your core. hyunjin lets out a strangled moan, thrusting his hips in you steadily. his pace grows quicker, cock snapping into your tight hole repeatedly until you’re a moaning mess under him.

he pulls up your leg, placing it above his shoulder before rolling his hips down on you, reaching deeper, the sensation making your breathing shallow, chest tight. he felt too deep, almost as if you were full of his cock and his cock only.

you’re drunk out of your head to even realize when you’re cumming but when you do, you’re left dizzy with the aftermath, body trembling as your juices flow out to coat hyunjin’s dick buried deep in you. you feel as if all the energy has been sucked out of you — which it had, no doubt — and you just wanted to cuddle your teddy bear (your replacement for hyunjin) and sleep for longer than ever.

hyunjin pulls out of you, sloppily stroking his length before coming on your stomach and the sheets, his thick fluids trickling down your sides and onto your clothes. he focuses on his breath, flopping down beside you on the cleaner part of the bed, leaving you all sweaty, sticky and disgusting with his and your wetness. even in your drunk state, you expected him to give you some water or dress you up, at least clean his shit off of you.

but maybe you were asking too much from just a one-night-stand.

—

a/n; FINALLY AFTER A 5 DAYS BREAK also may i say this is g**d why did this turn out better than i expected damn

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @nightshade-minho @yangomangos @peachyhan @yoongiesbby1204 @llsiriusminorisll (message me if you want to be added!)

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids hyunjin smut #skz #skz hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #smut #stayverse #stray kids hwang hyunjin smut #skz hwang hyunjin smut #mia.moon

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signalterminated · 4 years

Text

Altered Item S-96 (Control/TMA crossover)

a while ago when i was playing Control i wrote up a little crossover fic for fun. a week or 2 later i found out jonny was streaming control on twitch which was one hell of a coincidence. i figured i might as well post this here in case anyone else finds the concept interesting or fun to play around with.

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ALTERED ITEM S-96

Description:

A black and white children's book titled A Guest for Mr. Spider. Story details a cartoonish spider greeting flies as "guests" to his house. There are two doors on each side of the house but no furniture save for a single table with withered bluebells. Each fly has a moniker as a name that refers to their individual species.

Setup for the story is cyclical: one page introduces a fly offering a gift to the spider in an attempt to appease him. Subsequent page heavily implies Mr. Spider ate them after being dissatisfied with the gift. The final fly is shown offering his own son to the spider for reasons unknown.

The doors and Mr.Spider are depicted as being progressively bloodier. Mr.Spider's abdomen is also swollen to gargantuan proportions but the text states he wants more, even desiring another guest for dinner. Last page of the book is a cutaway of the right hand door that simply says, "It's polite to knock."

Ability:

While unsettling, the pages themselves possess no visible paranatural qualities. The reader is instead put into a trance while reading that can only be broken by an outside force or intervention. Age, gender, height, or any other physical characteristic does not seem to affect the potency nor threshold of interruption for this trance.

The reader is rendered oblivious to their surroundings but is capable of walking, oftentimes significant distances. Furthest distance recorded for this effect was [REDACTED] observed at [REDACTED]. So far no measurable distance has been noted as a "minimum" requirement, though a median of approximately [REDACTED] has been recorded for all controlled tests. It's possible that the distance a reader must travel is random, or (more possibly) is quantified by factors we are as of yet unable to ascertain.

The reader eventually reaches a stained door. The door is different colors depending on the environment but the stains remain consistent regardless of locale. If left uninterrupted, the reader will place the book against the door and knock on it. It's uncertain if this is necessary to prompt the next part of the ritual or not, as testing beyond this point is fatal for any subject.

The door opens to reveal pitch blackness. Shortly after, the reader is yanked inside by limbs described as [REDACTED]. No one taken by the creature behind the door has ever been seen again.

See S-96-CV-1 for further details regarding testing.

S-96-CV-1

Variables:

Various factors have been tested to determine the strength of the book's controlling properties. Photography had proven to be impossible in both digital and film formats, as any photo taken always comes out completely black, damaged, or distorted beyond recovery. Video recordings of the book being read have been tricky to establish, as digital equipment will almost immediately glitch and stutter within a range of [REDACTED] of the book. Attempting to use even an advanced zoom feature from far away results in similar phenomenon.

So long as the patient's back is obscuring a view of the book, it's relatively safe to record. Additionally the effect operates in a far more reduced capacity while S-96 is closed, causing glitches and technical issues within a range of [REDACTED] instead.

Strangely enough, motivation presents more of an obstacle in attempting to monitor S-96. Nearly every agent instructed to photograph or record the book reported a sudden lack of motivation to do so when approaching the containment room. Many formulated excuses for why they couldn't at that very moment. Others simply forgot why they were there. Installing sheets of Black Rock within the containment room helped reduce this effect considerably but did not eradicate it.

See JS-P1-95 for an interview from the only known survivor.

JS-P1-95

Transcript for an audio recording between Jonathan Sims, aged 8, and a child therapist appointed by local protection services. Interview occurred approximately 2 days after the disappearance of [REDACTED].

Therapist: Hi there, Jonathan.

Jonathan: Call me Jon please, ma'am.

Therapist: Right, of course. How are you feeling, Jon?

Jon: I'm not sure, ma'am.

Therapist: Please, call me Imogen. And that’s alright. After what you went through, that’s a very normal reaction.

Jon: Noth—

(There is a brief moment of silence followed by the sound of clothing rustling. Jon is shifting uncomfortably in his seat.)

Jon: Yeah. I guess.

Therapist: What were you going to say, Jon? Remember, I’m not here to judge you.

Jon: O-okay. It’s just...nothing about this feels normal.

Therapist: How so, Jon?

Jon: You won’t believe me.

Therapist: You told the police that you saw [REDACTED] being kidnapped. They believed you, right? So will I.

Jon: I didn’t tell them everything.

Therapist: And why is that, Jon?

Jon: Because what I saw, it...it doesn’t make sense. It was really dark out but I know what I saw, and...

(Small set of hitching breaths followed by a deep breath. Jonathan appears to be repressing a breakdown very well for a child.)

Jon: It happened so fast but I saw it. It took him.

Therapist: What took him, Jon?

Jon: Mr. Spider.

(There is a brief onset of soft static here. Most likely due to the age of the recording.)

Therapist: ...Mr. Spider?

Jon: From the book.

Therapist: What book, Jon?

Jon: A Guest for Mr. Spider! He took the book when he pushed me and I followed him a-and he knocked on the door and --

(More shifting, this time including papers and seats. Jon is breathing harder and the rest of his sentence is unintelligible.)

Therapist: Jonathan, take a deep breath. There you go. You’re okay.

Therapist: Now, tell me about this book. The police never mentioned finding a book by that name.

Jon: That’s because he was holding it. Don’t you understand!? The book, it made him go there. It forced him to knock on the door and...and then...

(A small sob followed by the hushed cooing of the therapist. Jon seems unresponsive and there’s the creak of a chair, followed by silence.)

Jon: I don’t want to talk about the book anymore.

Therapist: Okay. That’s okay. You’ve done very well so far.

Jon: I’m not a toddler.

Therapist: I’m sorry, Jon. I know you’re not a toddler, this is a lot for anyone. Even an adult.

Jon: I knew you wouldn’t believe me.

Therapist: Now what makes you think that?

Jon: I can see it. I see a lot of things.

(Recording ends here.)

There are no other audio logs regarding this incident. Additional services were turned down by Jon’s grandmother, [REDACTED], and there are no other records of him seeking out professional treatment in the following years.

For more information regarding Jonathan Sims, refer to JS-19-UAE.

JS-19-UAE

Initial Impressions:

Jonathan Sims displays a very high intelligence for his age. Whether due to trauma or his orphaned status, he exhibits a world weariness rarely found in a child. This emotional aloofness coupled with a lack of any close relatives might indicate an affinity for future leadership.

Bureau agents stationed in the UK are instructed to closely monitor his activities for the following 2 years. This is to determine potential eligibility in the Prime Candidate Program and to assess if the Altered Item will return to claim its intended victim.

Pre-Adolescence to Early Teenhood (10-13)

Jonathan Sims has exhibited no further paranatural abilities. He appears to have thrown himself into academic pursuits and has not made contact with any other Altered Items. The book mentioned in his initial therapy session has not appeared within his vicinity, nor has it been reported by any other agent stationed in Great Britain.

As of now, surveillance will continue, albeit in a reduced capacity.

Teenhood (13-17)

Still no indication that Jonathan Sims possesses any paranatural talent. However, he appears to have a heightened sensitivity to paranatural events and items. There have been at least 4 instances where he nearly stumbled upon AWE’s or Altered Items, only to just skirt by them. Each instance has been logged in a separate report and successfully apprehended before it could catch public attention.

Whether this is a 6th sense keeping him out of danger — or drawing him to it — is currently unknown.

Early Adulthood (18-21)

Agents recently discovered the book mentioned in Jonathan Sims's therapy session. It does not appear to be tied to him in any way, given the fact it was found in a check-out bin at the [REDACTED] Library in [REDACTED]. It was contained successfully by [REDACTED] and shipped back to the Oldest House in a crate lined with Black Rock.

Jonathan himself has become a full time student in Oxford. He has exhibited no latent talents or abilities of interest. Due to his growing age and the fact the book has been found, his eligibility in the Prime Candidate Program has been revoked.

That being said, he is an excellent accidental bloodhound. More than once his intuition has led him within the range of an AWE or Altered Item. By proxy, we are made aware and are able to act quickly to avoid further disaster.

Whether these items are reacting to his presence, seeking him out purposefully, or this is all simply coincidence is not yet determined. Closer study could risk exposing Bureau operations, as Jonathan has grown increasingly paranoid since teenhood. Measures have been taken to avoid any further unintended alterations in his usual behavioral patterns.

Adulthood (22-24)

Nothing to report between college and entering the workforce. His grandmother's death led to a period of instability but nothing atypical of a grieving individual.

ADDENDUM: Jonathan's habit of accidentally brushing up against the paranatural has culminated in a job at the Magnus Institute.

While not tied to the Bureau, the Magnus Institute has been partnered in some capacity with the Bureau for over 2 decades now. This coincidence has been logged as potentially being influenced by paranatural forces.

An ambassador will be sent to the Magnus Institute to investigate and negotiate with the current Director of its operations, Elias Bouchard. Extra caution should be exercised to avoid arousing further suspicion from Jonathan or the Institute.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #Control

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gummybuddha · 4 years

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Sanctus Reach(around)

I’ve been having a very Warhammer 40k weekend thus far. I ordered some ork boyz, but while I was out at Barnes and Noble today, I noticed they had a couple boxes of Space Marine Heroes left. Mind you I am in an area of South Carolina far removed from most Games Workshop products, so normally I would have to travel a town over or order from amazon.

This time I got lucky. Not sure which guy at B&N is making the call to order Warhammer stuff from time to time, but that guy is the real MVP. Anyway, Steam is also running it’s 4th Skulls for the Skull Throne sale, which is the perfect time to pick up any Games Workshop related games at a discount. Most notably this year, Total War Warhammer 1&2 are on sale, which means for 35.38 USD, you can get most of the races and mortal empires, which is the most crack addicted way to play Total War Warhammer 2 these days. I can’t say if getting the rest of the DLC is worth your venture, but if your like me and already own both games, you probably have all the DLC too. It just ends up happening that way. But this year I just got a few of the B list Warhammer games. Gladius, Inquisitor Martyr, Chaosbane, and Sanctus Reach. I started with Sanctus Reach, and oh boy, I was not disappointed. Already I can tell that Sanctus reach is a video game that profits entirely on your desire to have more 40k, which if your not a big fan, is not much of a selling point.

Visually I find Sanctus Reach to have the least flattering texture work I have seen in a while. While nowhere near as bad as some Nintendo 64 games I remember, there is just something off about how Sanctus Reach looks that I can’t put my finger on. Up close the units look fine, like these pack of Space Wolves.

Or these Chaos Demons.

But zoom out and there is just something about the visual style that makes me feel like there is a lot of visual noise.

It works for what it has to do though.

The game is not very animation heavy, yeah there are attacks, units move and shoot and beat each other to death with blunt or sharp objects, but most of it is the limited animation you would expect from any tactics game. Don’t expect Relic Entertainment level work here. Unless your expect Dawn of War 1, then maybe this game might surprise you actually. As far as the core gameplay loop is concerned, it plays a bit like Xcom but without all the polish, which is actually not bad, I can see myself playing a few matches of this for the novelty. I always thought strategy games in the style of Xcom or Final Fantasy Tactics would be a good fit for the 40k setting. it’s just not a 1:1 digital clone of the table top.

Which is a shame, because I feel if we can get a digital version of Magic the Gathering as good as Arena, I think it’s about high time 40K got a decent digital version of the tabletop. The units in game work on movement points, action points, abilities and HP, but honestly it’s not much of a stretch to think they could have easily done everything else tabletop does.

I also a little disappointed that there are not a whole bunch of dice rolling in the corner of the screen, showing how many of my models hit their target as that is the most satisfying part of watching live games of the table top. I know the units are really not set up like that, what what I am seeing is a squad being presented as a whole because it’s a tactics game, but I feel like there is something satisfying of making hits and watching the other player have to remove models from the the squad, a visual indication of your conquest. To be fair, when one squad damages another, models often die gory deaths. Which are fun puffs of blood mist brightening often gloomy looking maps rendered to look like 40k play boards. Seeing this red cloud early means you often forgot to put your units in cover, or managed to miss an overwatch phase, and all the typical stuff you can find in Xcom. It’s a fun novelty, but I feel like at the end of the day, Sanctus Reach just makes you want to play a better tactics game (Xcom) or get into Warhammer 40k on the table quicker. The game just feels like it's lacking a lot of the polish you would get from a larger studio, and the menus and UI feel like they had little effort put into them other than to try to make the text look like 40K. I actually thought the game’s multiplayer community was dead because of the UI not being easy enough to read at a glance. All in all, this is one for the collector, not for the critic. The die hard 40k guy who can’t get enough, and not the guy looking for something as robust as Dawn of War or Total War Warhammer. In short there are better games, but if you in lockdown and you need something that feels kind of like the table, this might be your closest shot. I just wish they had more factions. Oh well.

#Warhammer 40k #Sanctus Reach #Xcom #Tactics #PC #Space Marines

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jessiegirl9984 · 4 years

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Faith over Fear By Jessie K

Another day has come to a close. I just signed off of my 3rd Zoom meeting for the day - this one was Celebrate Recovery. I am mindful of the difference in my life, literally the difference between life and death that Celebrate Recovery has made.

It is not about the fact that I have found Jesus Christ to be my Savior - that is not it at all.

It is about that I have formed a relationship, an eternally strong and unbreakable relationship with my Higher Power, and that single relationship is the one that is making all the difference in the world right now.

He tells me I've go this, and I believe Him.

I used to be so angry at God - so many unanswered prayers, curve balls, and people and relationships ripped right out from under me by cancer, dementia, relapse, and my own brokenness that could only bring people that leave because I was born without the belief that I was worthy of staying for - so even I left me!

And I felt like if I loved one more thing or person and God took them from me too, I would hole up for the rest of my life, with a rusted padlock on my heart, and no key.

The dread in my life that washed over me, in turn carried a blanket of shame - how in the world could a woman in long term recovery, with so much abundance and opportunity in her life be suicidal? What possible message could I bring and what gift could I possibly bring to the table besides grief?

It is all I knew, so that cruel echo began to resound in every every of my life - I was not worthy - and so all I could bring were people and jobs and lovers who agreed.

But God believes otherwise - I am worthy. and Fear is a liar. And the courage I have built into every area of my life has removed the shame, the fear, most of the grief, and allowed me to see myself in the light that God has seen all alone -

I am a proud and graceful woman in long term recovery, loved by God, and carrying a message of faith.

And what I know is that ONLY faith is going to get us through this time of unrest, unknowing, ominous at times unpredictable future. And for the first time, my faith is strong enough that I do not have to know. I do not have to know how bad it will get, or how long we will be here like this, or how long before He brings her into my life - the her that reflects my love for God, vs. the her that only reflected my self loathing.

I don't have to know - and we don't get to know - not right now. My choices today are about low carbs, lots of water, Zoom, prayer, worship music, the truth, doing favors for friends, staying healthy and in my own lane, and letting myself hold the pen of God, and believing it was handed to me.

I don't know who will read this, or who will share this, but I do know the fire from my fingertips writes without my even thinking about it. It just comes - it is not mine - but it is mine to give.

Now is a time of unification - not of divisiveness. We can unify our efforts to get through this time, and help those who are struggling, and we can get back to being red and blue later. We can unify our efforts to get through this time, and help those who are struggling and we can get back to taking eachother's inventory and making judgments about eachother based on our own insecurities and inability to communicate and heal our own trauma later. We can unify our efforts to get through this time, and help those who are struggling, and we can get back to our anger, our pain, our he said she said, our heartbrokenness later.

When I first learned how to type, my mom bought me my first little typewriter - it had a tiny digital readout and you could get ahead of it - and then you had to wait for it.

My first sentence was what she typed out for me to practice - and I never forgot Mr. Kennedy's famous words:

Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country -

All right - some things have changed, but the sentiment has never held true more than it does today.

Now is the time for all good people to come to the aid of their country, their planet, their community, their neighbor, and their inner selves.

Now is the time to choose carefully how to maintain fear over faith. No one can be blamed at this time for feeling fear, for relapsing, for running, for leaving, for blocking, for ghosting, for disregarding, for self centering.

And I honestly believe we are all just walking each other home.

So when the fear is too great, reach out. Talk to someone. Raise a hand. Talk to whatever God you have.

And when the faith is high, reach out. Talk to someone. Raise a hand. Talk to whatever God you have.

Another day has drawn to a close. Soon I will be closing my eyes, and resetting so I can rise to another day and listen to the stories in the morning - like my market manager who has been exposed to 3 positive COVID people now, and is scared he will give it to his family - like my market manager whose daughter is a nurse at Boston Mass, and last week she called her and told her that her hospital is being reallocated to treat ONLY COVID-19, and that she cannot come home because she took an oath.

There will be every day heroes coming out of this - not because they want a medal - but because it is what they have been called to do, and because if they don't, perhaps no one else will.

Still More Will be Revealed 032320 Jessie K

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takerfoxx · 5 years

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RD Walpurgis Nights 8: Part 5

Just a quick head’s up: due to the nature of the POV’s in this installment, it does feature some mild homophobia.

And yes, I am aware of the irony of including a warning for that when my stories are notorious for gratuitous violence, no need to point that out.

...

Then…

Kriemhild screamed as she dropped headfirst, her arms and legs flailing, rain slamming against her face.

She saw the black monolith of the clock hand zoom past her…only to suddenly stop. Gasping like a hooked fish, Kriemhild found herself swinging from side to side, but no longer falling.

She blinked, her mind still paralyzed by terror. The swinging slowed, and then stopped, leaving her hanging upside-down. Part of her was mildly aware of the fact that despite being turned around a full one-hundred eighty degrees, rain was still somehow hitting the top of her head.

Then, though the very thought of it filled her with terror, she spared a glance down…or, well, upward.

Above her, Homulilly had somehow managed to wrap her own limbs around the clock hand. That alone should not have been enough to keep her from falling, but somehow it was. Furthermore, she now holding onto the ends of several of Kriemhild’s legs in her fist.

Also, for whatever reason, the rain had reversed direction and was now falling upward. In any other circumstance that would be great cause for concern, but given everything that had happened in the last few minutes, it barely got a passing notice of curiosity.

“H-Hold on!” Homulilly called down to her. “I got you!”

Kriemhild found her voice then. “Don’t drop me!” she begged. “Please don’t drop me!”

Homulilly nodded. Then she began to pull.

Slowly but surely, at what felt like a centimeter at a time, Kriemhild was hauled back up. She tried to close her eyes, but for whatever reason that just made things worse. She tried to focus on the clock face itself, but the way she was being held kept turning her back outward, toward the bizarre city, which was so much worse.

So she focused on Homulilly, as her new friend hauled her back up.

“C-Come on,” Homulilly said. “Get your, um, your…legs back around the hand.”

Kriemhild nodded and did so, this time making sure to tighten her grip.

“Now take my hand,” Homulilly said, reaching out.

The bones of Homulilly’s fingers still felt strange, but Kriemhild was in no position to complain.

“Now sit up!”

Homulilly pulled and Kriemhild pushed up with her abdomen, and she managed to move back so she was right-side-up again and facing Homulilly directly.

Kriemhild tried to talk, to thank Homulilly for saving her life, but she couldn’t. The ability to speak seemed to have left her.

Fortunately, Homulilly seemed to understand. “Come on,” she said. “W-We need to g-get out of here.”

Kriemhild nodded. Then she glanced around and winced.

“Up,” Homulilly said. “We need to go up.”

Kriemhild looked up and understood. The hand they were clinging to was a long one, reaching nearly to the top of the clock itself, and jutting out over the clock face was a line of gargoyles, all of them looking like young girls reaching out for the horizon.

If they managed to reach those gargoyles, they might just might be able to pull themselves onto the roof. And if they got to the roof, they might be able to find a way safely down, maybe even get help.

If.

Regardless, one thing Kriemhild was certain of was that they could not stay where they were, clinging to a giant clock hand in backwards falling rain.

The two of them looked at each other in understanding. Then, in synchronization, they both nodded, and they started to climb.

Inch-by-inch, bit by bit, all the way up, all the while praying that neither of them would slip, that the hand wouldn’t move again, that they would somehow be able to wake up from this nightmare.

…

A few hours before now…

Hitomi woke up.

She had been having a nice dream, in which Kyousuke was performing in a massive theater, and she was on stage watching him from behind the curtain. He had played beautifully, weaving together a masterpiece with every stroke of his bow, enthralling his captivated audience. And when they broke into thunderous applause at the end, Hitomi had felt that her heart would break from the sheer beauty of it.

She sighed happily. The best part of dreams like that was that they very much might happen one day. Kyousuke’s genius with the violin was unquestioned, as were his ambitions. He no doubt would one day be on that stage, and Hitomi would be able to share that moment with him.

In fact, she was the lucky one. When the rest of the world finally realized the treasure that they had, she would have had it first. Millions were going to line up to hear what she had been given privately.

Cheered by the thought, Hitomi reached for her phone to see if Kyousuke, Madoka, or Sayaka had sent her any early morning texts.

Her hand froze halfway. She had suddenly remembered. Madoka had been missing since the storm, and Sayaka had vanished before that. What was more, Hitomi hadn’t really talked to Kyousuke since Madoka’s disappearance.

A few moments passed, and then Hitomi withdrew her hand. She lay still in the dark as all the good feelings the dream had given her vanished. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

Then she glanced up to check the time. Apparently it was almost eight. The sight of the digital clock confused her though, as it didn’t seem to be the one she always kept by her bedside. What was more, it seemed to be in a different place.

And then Hitomi remembered the rest.

It was almost half an hour when she finally stopped crying and felt strong enough to get up.

…

Breakfast was corned-beef hash mixed with crumbled hash browns, as well as sliced honeydew and a glass of apple juice. Hitomi picked up her tray and looked around the small cafeteria.

There were only a few other girls with her. Apparently they were being kept in a special part of the facility, reserved for new arrivals that required…special treatment.

Hitomi wasn’t stupid. Newly arrived was just a nice way to say newly dead. And she was in an asylum. She had been institutionalized. And for what? For not immediately accepting all the horrible stuff that they were being told? It felt like every time she so much as asked a question, the entire universe got stood on its head. Who wouldn’t be mentally and emotionally on edge after all that?

Sighing, Hitomi went over to one of the tables that had two other girls already sitting at it, albeit on opposite sides and across from one another.

One of them was a black girl that Hitomi had seen around, though she never said much, so Hitomi didn’t know her name or where she was from. The other was a white girl from America named Morgan who talked quite a lot, and that was unfortunate. She had shown up a day after Hitomi had, and so far she was taking to her recent life changes even more poorly than Hitomi was.

Hitomi sat down across from and down the table from Morgan and started to eat. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but then again, she never did those days. She was just going to have to force herself to eat. If anything happened, then she was going to need her strength.

“Man, this is some bullshit,” Morgan muttered. When she had first shown up, her hair had hung around her head in beaded braids. It still did, though Hitomi doubted very much that it had been redone at any point since. Or washed, for that matter. “I mean, right? Some bullshit.”

Hitomi didn’t say anything. Talking to Morgan never went anywhere good.

“It’s just a witch trick. Just a witch trick. I mean, no way we’re dead. Right? We can’t be dead. This ain’t no afterlife. This is life-life. Death ain’t got no, uh, no apple juice, no plastic trays. We all went after the same witch, and it stuck us here. Am I right?”

No one acknowledged her.

“I said, am I right?”

Still nothing. Morgan blinked, and went back to mumbling.

As she silently ate, Hitomi glanced around the room. In addition to Morgan and herself, there were three other girls there, and as far as she could tell, none of them were witches. Why was that? Were the witches kept away from the magical girls for some reason? Perhaps to protect them? Did witches simply not need to be institutionalized? Did they get special, special treatment somewhere else? And if they were being protected, were they protecting the magical girls from them, or them from the magical girls?

Hitomi was so wrapped up in her private musings that she didn’t notice that she was being addressed until Morgan crumpled up a napkin and threw it at her.

“Hey!”

Hitomi blinked, and then looked at her. “What?”

Morgan sneered. “I said, how long you been here, Chinese?”

It took several seconds for Hitomi to figure out what was the other girl was even saying. “Um, only a few days. And I’m Japanese, not Chinese.”

“Same diff.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Whatever,” Morgan shrugged. “Did’ja hear what they said though?”

Hitomi had heard many strange things, but had no idea which one Morgan was referring to. “About what?”

Morgan glanced back and forth and then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “That’s there’s no dudes here at all. It’s all bitches.”

“Oh. Yes, I did hear that.”

“That’s some bullshit, right? I’m supposed to live the rest of eternity in the land of the dykes?”

Hitomi thought of all the magical girls she knew from tv shows she had watched growing up. Sure, she could picture Madoka and Sayaka among them. Mami Tomoe was a shoe-in, though Homura and that Kyoko Sakura were more of a stretch. She even felt that she had worn the uniform rather well, as short as her time was.

What she could not picture was someone as foul-mouthed as Morgan ever fighting alongside the likes of Usagi or Sakura.

“I suppose so,” was all Hitomi said in response.

Morgan shoveled in a mouthful of hash and chewed loudly. She didn’t stop looking at Hitomi though. “You got a boyfriend?”

Hitomi blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You got a boyfriend?”

Hitomi looked down. “I did.”

“What happened? Catch him with his side bitch?”

“What…no! What happened is that I died!”

Morgan snorted. “Bullshit. Don’t you believe that bullshit. We ain’t dead.”

Fine. Whatever. At least it brought an end to the conversation. The two of them ate their food in silence.

And then Morgan had to open her big, fat mouth again. “Japanese, huh? Where’d you learn English though?”

Hitomi was really starting to regret not sitting somewhere else. “I’m…I was learning it in school.” Then she frowned. “But I’m not speaking English.”

Morgan snorted. “Dumbfuck. Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not. I’m speaking Japanese. So are you.”

At this, the black girl at the other end of the table looked up at the two of them in confusion.

“What the fuck are you on about? I don’t even know Japanese!” Morgan turned to the black girl. “Right? Tell me I’m not going crazy here!”

The black girl hesitated, and then said in heavily accented but perfectly understandable Japanese, “I don’t know what any of you are talking about. You’re speaking Somali. We all are!”

“Bullshit!” Morgan snapped, which was starting to sound less and less like an actual word the more she said it. She turned in her seat and called out to one of the caretakers. “Hey! Hey, you!”

The caretaker immediately hurried over to them. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can fucking say that!” Morgan jabbed a grimy finger at Hitomi and the other girl both. “Tell me why the fuck this bitch be saying that we speaking Japanese, and that bitch be saying that we speaking Somali, when we’re all speaking fucking English!”

The caretaker hesitated, and then said, “Well, that’s just the way things work now. Everyone hears the language that they know best.”

“What?”

“We’re all souls now, basically. So when you talk to someone, the meaning of your words gets translated-”

“You still talking that afterlife shit?” Morgan demanded. “Okay. Okay, tell you what! If I was dead, would I be bleeding like this?”

Before anyone could stop her, she stuck her finger in her mouth and chomped down.

Hitomi’s jaw dropped in shock. She had trouble sitting still while getting her shots at the doctor’s office, and under no circumstances could she comprehend deliberately trying to hurt yourself like that without hesitation.

But as Morgan’s behavior had demonstrated, her background was a bit…grittier than Hitomi’s.

Not that it changed anything about what happened next.

“See!” she said, thrusting her finger forward. “Look at that! Blood! Just like…”

Her voice trailed off. Her teeth had torn the skin, sure, but no red blood was trickling down. Rather, some kind of yellowish mist was seeping up.

“Morgan, please,” said the caretaker as all the girls, including Morgan herself, stared stupefied at the sight. She tried to take Morgan by the hand. “Let me-”

Morgan kicked her in the stomach.

The next thing Hitomi knew, the caretaker was doubling over in pain and Morgan had leapt on top of the table. If she had looked like a crazy person before, now she looked like an absolute lunatic: her eyes were wide, her whole body was shaking, and she kept jerking this way and that. What was more, she now held a shining halberd in her hands.

“Get away from me!” she screamed as she swung the halberd back and forth. “All of you! Get away-”

Then she stumbled. “Wha…?” she mumbled, her words slurring as her voice deepened. She braced her halberd against the table for support and tried to straighten up, but it slipped and she collapsed face first onto the table.

Someone near Hitomi screamed. It might have been her, she honestly couldn’t tell.

“It’s okay, she’s just unconscious!” said the caretaker as she gathered Morgan up. “She’s be fine. Please, return to your rooms. You can take your food with you.”

No need to tell Hitomi twice. Leaving her breakfast behind, she bolted from the cafeteria, heading straight to the small room she had been given. Once inside, Hitomi ran to her bed and dove under the covers. She yanked the blanket up over her head, tucked her legs and arms in close to her chest, stuck her knuckles in her mouth, and started gnawing while her whole body trembled as violently as Morgan’s had.

She was in a madhouse! Not just the building she was stuck in, but the whole world was insane! Human witches, mist instead of blood, it was insane!

Then she blinked. She pulled her finger out of her mouth and stared at it. It was slick with her saliva and still had her teeth marks, but she hadn’t broken the skin.

She hesitated, and then started chewing on it again, harder this time. It hurt, but she forced herself to keep going, using her canines instead of her front teeth.

Then she stopped. It just hurt too much, and she still hadn’t made any kind of significant hole. What difference did it make anyway? She wasn’t going to see blood, she was going to see that weird mist! What the heck was that stuff anyway?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She had wished to be able to find Madoka and Sayaka, not get beaten to death and sent to a deranged version of Wonderland! Well, more deranged anyway.

Then her face hardened. Hitomi tossed the blanket aside and sat up. Hitomi thrust her hand out. There was a flash of green light, and she was holding her umbrella.

“Stupid thing,” she muttered as she popped open the canopy. “What use are you? You were completely useless as a weapon, you couldn’t protect me from that witch, you didn’t even take me here without killing me.” She gave the umbrella a rough shake. “Well? Come on! Do something!”

And to her utter shock, it did.

The area beneath the canopy suddenly lit up with a writhing emerald glow. Hitomi squeaked and dropped it. The glow faded.

She stared down at the now-inert umbrella. What in the world had that been? She stuck her hand out, hesitated, and then picked it up.

“So you can do magic,” she said. She glanced back and forth and whispered, “Can you get me out of here?”

The glow returned. Hitomi held her breath and grabbed the handle with both hands.

Suddenly the handle was yanked right into the umbrella itself, hauling Hitomi along with it so suddenly that she didn’t have time to scream. The canopy snapped closed and disappeared.

The room was left empty.

…

The momentum of being pulled into the umbrella sent Hitomi stumbling several steps before she hit a wall. Panting, she pushed up against the wall and stared down at the umbrella, which was still in her hands and now closed up.

What…what…what was that? She had been pulled through what felt like a green tunnel, and the next thing she knew she was on her feet again, out in a-

Hitomi blinked. Then she looked up.

The sky above was overcast grey, but it was still pretty bright out.

Hitomi then slowly looked around at her surroundings. She was in that hillside city that she had been brought to, with the tall white buildings and the red roofs. She was standing at the top of a narrow stair path between two buildings near the top of the hill, which gave her a good enough view to see the ocean below. The air was humid, salty, and pleasantly warm.

She was outside! It had worked!

Hitomi felt giddy. She giggled for what felt like the first time in a long, long while. Then she started laughing harder and harder until she was laughing and crying at the same time. She sat down on the top step, letting every pent up emotion just come spilling out.

To tell the truth, it kind of hurt, but it just felt so good, like picking away a scab or pulling out a splinter. She just kept laughing and sobbing, letting the outpouring of emotion wrack her body. She was out, she was really out!

“Um, excuse me?”

Hitomi blinked. She looked up. It was another girl, this one a dark face, sharp cheeks, and dark blue hair that fell down her back in a long ponytail. She was wearing jeans shorts and a white tee-shirt.

The girl was looking down at her in concern. “Are you…okay?”

Hitomi gaped up at her like a fish as her brain tried to conjure up an adequate response. “I…I…” Oh God. Think, Hitomi! Think! “I…I’m fine. J-Just…been a long day.”

It wasn’t the best response she could have come up with, but it was all she had. “Okay,” said the other girl. “You…wanna talk about?”

No! God, no! “Th-That’s all right,” Hitomi stammered. “I’m fine.” She scooted away from the girl and looked away, hoping that she would get the hint.

A moment passed, and then the other girl said, “Er, well, okay. Good luck, I guess.”

She went on her way down the stairs. Once she was gone, Hitomi breathed out a sigh of relief. That had been a close one. She really needed to be careful and not draw attention to herself.

Then she looked down at her umbrella and smiled. Well, if things did get hairy, at least now she had a method of escape.

…

Keeping her umbrella tucked under her arm in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, Hitomi walked through the streets of Freehaven. It felt so surreal to be out and about in the open air, but also so incredibly liberating. She was free! She could go wherever she wanted!

And what a fascinating place she had ended up in! Freehaven wasn’t like any city she had ever visited. The buildings were so tall and often covered with vines, and the streets so narrow. It was kind of like a maze. She spent her first half-hour of freedom just exploring, walking this way and that, making turns at random and just seeing what she could find.

It felt like she walking about in a dream. She things like monkeys and parrots casually sitting on windowsills and packs of feral cats wandering the streets. Some of the windows had tiny balconies that were extravagantly decorated with whatever their owner wished, from tiny gardens to curtains of colorful silk to golden ropes studded with gems. Fountains in the shape of animal heads were set in the walls here and there. Sometimes tiny little businesses would be tucked in the strangest of places, like narrow restaurants to oddity stores. Occasionally she found herself walking under buildings, with her path taking her down underground through a tunnel and up to the other side.

And then there were the people.

There wasn’t as many as she would have expected, but she did pass the city’s residents fairly regularly, some of them on the streets and others on the balconies. And from the look of things, Morgan had been right. They were all girls, most of them about her age, some a little older, a few of them young children. She saw girls from just about every ethnicity and combination thereof that she could think of. She saw hair and eyes in every color of the rainbow. She saw fashions and hairstyles that ranged from the familiar and mundane to outright alien.

That wasn’t the only thing Morgan had been right about though. Some of the girls were holding hands in a manner that seemed to convey more than just close friendship. Others sat together on benches or in doorways, snuggling very close. In one instance, a girl with short violet hair rushed out of a doorway right in front of her, only to stop, check her pockets, and roll her eyes. She ran back to the door, where another girl, this one with lime-green hair, was standing at the doorway, holding out a wallet with a look of amused exasperation. The violet-haired girl took the wallet with a look of apologetic embarrassment, gave the other girl a quick peck on the lips, and hurried on her way.

Hitomi couldn’t help but stare. She didn’t think of herself as being prejudiced or closed-minded or anything, but to see it this commonly and this openly was…well, she wasn’t really used to it.

She sighed. Well, it was like Charlotte had told her: there weren’t exactly a lot of options, so it would make sense for things to be like this. But were they all already lesbians when they died? Or did they just…get used to it?

She thought of how Kyousuke made her feel whenever they were together, about feeling his hand in hers or how they had leaned against each other when they sat together. She tried to picture herself doing that with another girl and…no. No, that just wasn’t her!

But even weirder than that were the witches.

Every now and then she would pass a girl who was, for a lack of a better term, not entirely human. Some had animalistic feature. Some had entire body parts replaced with inanimate objects. Some had human parts, but they were contorted in a way that ought not be possible, but didn’t seem to slow them down any. One girl had hair that constantly flowed around her head like she was underwater and had barnacles stuck to her cheeks and arms. Another had a long, spinning top for a lower body, but she moved along just fine.

Hitomi thought of the few witches she had seen personally and how alien and terrifying they had been. Each one of these girls had been like that at one point, but then again, each one of those monsters had also been like her. She thought of the witch that had killed her, that weird hybrid of a tree and several street signs. Would it one day show up in this city, returned mostly to human but still possessing enough pieces for her to recognize it? And if it did, how was she going to react?

Feeling a little shaken, she rounded another corner, and to her surprise she found herself in the first open part of the city she had seen.

It seemed to be a small park, a grassy area enclosed by hedges with trees spaced apart. At the center was a marble fountain.

While Hitomi had been getting a little cagey with all the tight spaces, she hesitated. The park wasn’t crowded, but there was a decent amount of people wandering about. Some were walking their pets, others were just hanging out. She saw at least three that were obviously couples as well.

Then she inhaled sharply. A monster had shown up. It wasn’t even remotely human. Rather, it had nine long and spindly arms, a round blackish-brown body that looked like it was made from volcanic glass, a long neck, and an eyeless head with a mouth that reminded her of a closed flower bud.

Hiding behind a corner, Hitomi watched as the monster ambled out into the park. She waited for the humans to react, to scream and run or maybe even attack, but none of them did. A few glanced up at it as it passed, but they paid it no mind. Furthermore, it didn’t seem to be interested in any of them either.

The monster headed over to one girl that was loitering by the fountain. This time, she did turn toward it as it approached. The monster held up a three-fingered hand, and the girl did the same. Hitomi tensed up.

But instead of attacking, the girl and the monster merely slid their palms together and then bumped fists. Then the two walked off together, talking like old friends. She even heard the monster let out a high, whistling laugh at one point.

Hitomi stared, her mouth hanging open. Oh God, that had been an alien, one of the ones she had been told about! An alien magical girl! She had just seen a real-life alien!

Her head started spinning. Two weeks ago, she hadn’t even known magic existed. And now…she was in a magical city in a magical afterlife that had aliens living in it. And judging by just how casual everyone had been about it, this was considered normal! Like, oh I think I’ll go take a walk in the park and oh hey, there’s my friend the alien! I think I’ll go over and say hi!

She giggled to herself. It was all just so ludicrous, and yet…kind of cool.

Then she noticed something problematic. Though the alien hadn’t warranted much more than passing glances from everyone nearby, she herself was starting to attract attention. More than one girl was glancing her way, and they were frowning as they did so. She saw two sitting together in the shade of a tree. One glanced at Hitomi, did a double-take, elbowed her companion, and whispered something while nodding in Hitomi’s direction.

Hitomi’s stomach fell. Oh no, had she been found out? How would they know? She supposed that she stood out a little bit. After all, she hadn’t been sleeping well, and she hadn’t paid much attention to grooming. But she had at least been showering!

Then she looked down at herself and understood. She was still wearing the uniform that that facility had provided her with, consisting of white stockings and a frilly white blouse and a red skirt and red shoes. She had a feeling that such an outfit wasn’t really common wear, and was probably specific to those who were still incarcerated by the…what did they call themselves again? The Freehaven Integration Bureau, that was right.

And people wearing the same uniform as her probably weren’t supposed to be wandering the streets unattended.

Uh-oh.

Hitomi slowly moved backward, retreating into the shadows of the street. Once she was out of view, she took off running. Hopefully she could find someplace to hide, maybe even a fresh change of clothes.

Then she got an idea.

As she ran, Hitomi opened up her umbrella and said, “Take me someplace where I can find new clothes!”

Again it obeyed. The green light reappeared, and she was yanked through.

…

Hitomi stared up in dismay.

Before her was a storefront, one several stories tall. It looked to be a clothing store.

A very expensive clothing store.

She quickly ran into a nearby alley and opened up her umbrella again. “Let me rephrase that. Take me someplace where I can find new clothes for free.”

…

Hitomi found herself standing on what appeared to be a rooftop. Bewildered, she looked around. It was like someone had taken a section of the street and transplanted it to the top of the building. There was a street sign on every corner of the roof, displaying the names of the streets below.

As for the roof itself, well, it was kind of like a small park itself. Not quite like the one she had just fled, but the similarities were there. There was a grid of several square concrete planters, each containing a collection of shrubberies and small trees. Park benches were scattered here and there among the planters.

Now Hitomi was completely lost. She turned away from the rooftop foliage and looked out at the cityscape itself.

Then she gasped.

The top of Freehaven was almost a second city unto itself. She saw the flat, red roofs of the city were arranged in such a way so that those that sat lower on the hill did not rise above those that were higher, making it seem almost like a series of exceptionally large steps. And on the roofs themselves she saw more rooftop gardens, plazas, courtyards, even the occasional small shop. Small bridges connected the roofs, and here and there tall, tiered towers rose up.

And so it went on, all the way down to the coast. There, she could see a sparkling sea extending far into the horizon.

And then there were the people. There seemed to be even more up in the top levels than there were wandering the streets below. Some were in a hurry and were bounding from one roof to the next, heading toward their destinations in a straight line. Others were taking their time, leisurely hopping across the gaps or making use of the bridges. Others were simply hanging out, either by themselves or with friends. One rectangular rooftop was playing host to a full-on soccer game, it seemed.

The sight was as beautiful as it was strange. But why had her umbrella brought her up there to being with? She needed clothes, not a nice view!

Then she saw it. There was a fenced in area nearby, set apart enough from the planters to indicate private property, and within were two clotheslines stretched between poles, on which several outfits were hung to dry.

Hitomi sighed. She really needed to learn how to be specific with her phrasing.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” she said to her umbrella. “Take me somewhere I can find new clothes for free, that I don’t have to steal, and isn’t dangerous, and I won’t be caught.” A pause, and then she added, “Please work with me here.”

This time the light appeared slowly, starting off as a small spark around the umbrella’s pole that spread outward, as if the umbrella was thinking hard about her request and was sifting through several different options to find one that would be satisfactory.

Hitomi really hoped that was indeed the case. As she started to feel the increasingly familiar pull, she closed her eyes, praying that this time it would get it right.

…

The place her umbrella took her next wasn’t nearly so nice.

She was on the ground again, somewhere else in Freehaven. But it was a part that was in much poorer condition. Yes, it followed the same general aesthetics of white walls, arching doors, and red roofs, but here the buildings were shorter, the walls dingier, and the streets were in poor condition.

As for the people, well, they would be best described as down on their luck. And that was putting it kindly.

Hitomi cowered. Though her life had been mainly spent in places that were safe and well-cared-for, she knew the bad part of town when she saw it.

It didn’t make any sense to her. Why would the afterlife have a slum? Ought they not be free of that sort of thing?

But why here though? She had specifically asked for a place that wasn’t dangerous! And where were the clothes?

Then she saw it. Down the street was a fenced-in courtyard, and inside several people were gathered.

Four of them were wearing some kind of white uniform, and they were unloading boxes from…from an actual spaceship, a small vehicle that looked like a sleek, flying van that was hovering just a little bit off the ground. And the rest of the people there looked, well, like they didn’t have any place to go, and hadn’t for some time.

A homeless drive. Her umbrella had taken her to a homeless drive. Hitomi cringed back. It wasn’t as if she had never seen homeless people before. But she had never seen so many in one place before.

And, well, now she supposed that she was technically one of them.

Hitomi had a brief vision of her future, of her wandering these uncared-for streets, of long days and nights spent dirty, hungry, tired, and scared, not where her next meal was going to come from, not knowing who to trust, not knowing if it was even safe to sleep.

That truly would be Hell, in the literal sense. The afterlife was supposed to be the endgame, one’s reward for the deeds in life. You weren’t supposed to be able to fail in death too. Even those who live miserable lives back on Earth have the escape of Death. Here, what did anyone have?

Hitomi took a deep breath. No. No, she wasn’t going to let that be her. Sure, things might be bad now, but she was going to claw her way out of her current circumstances, one way or another.

And the first step was to get rid of her uniform.

There was one small box of clothes sitting by itself, a little apart from the others. In it she could see what looked like a black hooded jacket and a part of jeans. She couldn’t tell if they would fit her, but as most of the girls she had seen were…roughly around her age at least, it was a fair bet. Besides, she wasn’t spoiled for choices.

Hitomi crept along the best she could, trying not to step too hard, trying not to breathe too loudly.

Nobody paid her the slightest mind as she approached. Okay, okay, she was almost there, almost there…

She had made it! Keeping her umbrella tucked under her arm, she slowly reached out and laid a hand on the hooded jacket.

And right then was when the nearest homeless girl turned toward her.

Hitomi stiffened. Like her, the homeless girl also had green hair, though hers was much shorter and of a lighter shade. Her face, however…it was like it was made of clear plastic, or solid water. Not ice, but water that had been persuaded to hold the shape of a face, behind which was a writhing cloud of green mist.

And her eyes were floating in her face.

One was bobbing along in her right cheek, while the was near the top of her brow. That didn’t stop either one of them from focusing right on Hitomi.

The homeless girl’s transparent face remolded itself into a frown. “Hey,” she said. “Newbie. What you sneaking around for? This shit’s free!”

Hitomi’s mouth opened and closed several times without making a sound. What in the world was she supposed to say?

Then the girl with the transparent face turned fully toward her, and Hitomi got a good look at her. She had on a long, ragged coat, but beneath it she was wearing the filthy and fraying remains of a white, frilly blouse; a red skirt; and white stockings.

Its horrid state aside, it was identical to the uniform Hitomi now wore.

The transparent girl’s floating eyes looked Hitomi up and down, taking note of her attire. Then she smiled and let out a low chuckle. “You too, huh?”

Hitomi’s tongue seemed stuck to the top of her mouth.

Then one of the workers in the white uniforms took notice. “Hello,” she said to Hitomi. “Are you…” Then her eyes dipped down to Hitomi’s uniform and she frowned.

Realizing the peril she was now in, Hitomi snatched the jacket and the jeans and bolted.

“Hey, wait!”

Hitomi didn’t turn back. She didn’t care how much attention she was drawing to herself, she just needed to get out of sight.

She ducked into a back alley and whipped out her umbrella. “I asked for a place that wasn’t dangerous!” she hissed at it. “That didn’t count!”

The umbrella didn’t answer. Of course it didn’t; umbrellas couldn’t talk.

Hitomi sighed. She was shaking, she was nervous, and if she stayed where she was any longer, she was probably going to pee herself.

Speaking of which…

“Okay,” she said. “Someplace private where I can change. Someplace actually safe this time, okay?”

…

This time, the umbrella got it right.

She was standing in a stall in some kind of public restroom. Judging by the sounds she heard outside, it was another park or the beach or something like that. Whatever, it was exactly what she needed.

Leaving her new outfit for later, Hitomi locked the stall and collapsed back onto the toilet. She leaned over and grabbed her head in her hands and started shaking.

She had seen a great many strange things since her death, some of it wonderful, some of it fascinating, but a lot of it horrifying. That demented room she had woken up in, for example. Or seeing Madoka and Homura all twisted and deformed.

But nothing had scared her more than that witch with the transparent face. Not just because of the way she looked (though that had been a shock, yes), but because Hitomi had gotten a glimpse of where she might be heading.

She couldn’t end up like that. She just couldn’t.

Why not? whispered a dark voice deep inside her. She probably felt the same way once.

Hitomi took a deep breath and slowly let it out. No. No, she wasn’t going to let that happen. That girl had probably come in with nothing. Hitomi at least had a direction, a goal. She just needed to stick to it.

Okay, the next step for her would be to make herself less conspicuous. Well, no, maybe not the next step. The next step was to take advantage of where she was, and deal with some urgent biological matters.

When she was done with that, Hitomi flushed, and then hastily slipped of her shoes and shimmied out of her skirt. Then she pulled the jeans on.

Well, the hung down a little bit around the ankles, but they would do. After that she pulled on the hooded jacket. It was a size or two too big for her, but that was fine.

Now feeling a whole lot better about herself, Hitomi sat back down on the toilet to consider her options.

Her first impulse was to go do what her wish had been supposed to grant her in the first place: find Madoka and Sayaka! Yes, okay, they were witches, but they were still out here, somewhere in the city! She had seen Madoka directly, and apparently despite losing her memories, Madoka and Sayaka were still friends. Find one, and she found the other.

But what would she do once she found them? Try to convince them of who they were? Besides, all their other friends were probably still around them. And they wouldn’t take kindly to Hitomi’s attempts to reinsert herself into their lives.

Hitomi’s stomach grumbled, and she sighed. Okay, maybe she had one or two personal errands to run first. She had clothes, and now she needed food. She hadn’t been able to finish her breakfast, and now everything was catching up to her.

Leaving her discarded skirt where it lay, she popped open the umbrella. “Okay, you probably know how this works now,” she said. “Food. Free. Safe. Okay?”

The canopy glowed green, and she was off.

…

The place that Hitomi’s umbrella took her to next was thankfully back in the good part of the city, at what seemed to be another public park, though this one was much larger and in a more open place. If the other park had been intended for taking nice walks and talking with friends, then this one was for running free, kicking balls, and just having a good time.

In fact, from what Hitomi could see from where she stood, chewing on her umbrella handle on the edge of the park, several people had taken over a fair portion for that very purpose.

There seemed to be a…something going on. It was too small to be a festival or a fair or some kind of holiday or anything like that, but was too big to a simple picnic. There were grills out, there were blankets laid out, there were balloons, there was music, there was dancing, there were people playing with sparklers and fireworks and the like.

And there were several stone tables laid out with food.

Hitomi licked her lips. Her was still rumbling, but she didn’t move. If she tried to snag something to eat, she would surely be found out. Someone would point out that she didn’t belong, that she was that runaway that was supposedly on the loose or something.

But surely they wouldn’t miss just a small sandwich…

Two girls passed right by her, clearly heading for the party. Summoning up her courage, she caught up to them and said, “Um, ex-excuse me. What’s going on?”

“Oh, that?” one of the girls said. “Graduation celebration, for everyone who graduated from the FIB the other day!”

The FIB? Wait, they had graduations? “O-Oh, is it?”

“Yeah, well, some of them anyway. I think there’s just like seven of them here, to be honest. But hey, any excuse for a party!”

Hitomi started to feel hopeful. “And…anyone can attend?”

The girl laughed. “What, are you new or something? Grab yourself a plate, sister!”

That was all that Hitomi needed to hear. She let the two girls go on ahead before cautiously approaching the tables herself. She glanced this way and that to see if anyone took notice of her, but nobody seemed to care that she was there.

Thank God.

The tables contained an assortment of picnic food, from hotdogs to burgers to fried chicken to potato salad to juicy pieces of fruit to macaroni to barbeque to several others mouthwatering summer delicacies. Hitomi grabbed a paper plate and loaded it with chicken wings, hotdogs, watermelon slices, and a large slab of potato salad. Then she grabbed a cup of lemonade and retreated to a mostly secluded spot under a tree and began to stuff her face.

Thanks to her privileged upbringing, Hitomi had had the proper way of eating her food drilled into her, and her mother had always made sure that no matter what the circumstances, that she always conducted herself as a lady, whether she be dining at a classy restaurant with the social elite or on fast food burgers with her friends.

So she started to do just that, eating slowly and carefully and making sure not to make a mess.

She got partway through her first drumstick when she was struck by a thought.

What in the world was she doing?

Hitomi threw away all her inhibitions and dug in like a savage, ripping chicken from bone with her teeth, chomping down hotdogs in big, chomping bites, and shoveling potato salad into her mouth with her fingers. And when she gulped down the lemonade, some of it sloshed down the sides of her mouth, leaving sticky trails.

She had gotten herself a pretty big plateful, but it was all gone very quickly.

Hitomi sighed. She wiped her face with a wad of napkins and relaxed in the shade of the tree, now feeling better than she had in a long time. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been fed regularly, but it had been hard to muster up an appetite when freshly institutionalized. But there was nothing like being on the lam to make one ravenous.

Now that she had something in her belly (though she was trying very hard not to think about how digestion must work now), she took the time to do something she had been doing a lot of lately: watch everyone around her.

It was more of the same. Girls, girls, girls, girls, in every shape and color. The dead must be coming from every corner of the world to account for all the diversity she saw. The only thing that seemed to be standard was their sex and the fact that none of them seemed old enough to drive. Even the humanity thing wasn’t a constant, as there seemed to be just as many witches as there were humans, but no one seemed to care.

Hitomi had to admit, it was a little…disquieting. The area she had lived in her whole life had been predominantly Japanese, as were most of the people she knew. Freehaven, however, didn’t seem to be predominantly anything.

Well, it was predominantly female, that was for certain. Why the Incubators never made contracts with boys, she had never gotten around to asking. That was another thing that felt weird to her. She knew why things were the way they were, she understood it, but it still just felt…off. And just like before, there were plenty of them that were definitely, openly in a relationship. And they were just so casual about it! Hitomi tried not to stare, but it was pretty hard.

Well, if she needed a distraction, there was the fact that she kept seeing things like girls with claws or hooves or wheels or looked like they were made out of LEGO bricks. That, uh, was really going to take some getting used to.

Suddenly someone let out a squeal, and several people started laughing, Hitomi looked over, and to her shock, one girl had taken off her own head and was rolling it around her arms like a basketball. She was just…standing there headless, with her head just going around and around and around to show off for a small crowd that was standing around her whooping and hollering like she was doing dance tricks.

Hitomi quickly looked away. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. Okay, that…had been unexpected, that had been really unexpected.

But what was strangest to her was just how normal it all seemed. Take away the multiracialism on display, take away the single gender and oodles of sapphic romance, take away the…the…the cavalcade of freaks on display, and heck, take away the fact that she had seen an actual alien walking around not too long ago and that everyone present could do magic, including herself…it was just a bunch of people having fun at the park. They were eating, talking, laughing, flirting, and just having a good time. In one large, open space, several girls had started up a soccer game, and the other way Hitomi had of distinguishing one team from the other was which way each was facing.

Hitomi looked up at the sky. Well…maybe she could get used to all of this. At the very least, people seemed to be very…friendly, on the outside. And the city itself was very nice, if a bit…Dr. Suessy.

But it wasn’t home, though. Hitomi’s mood soured. More than anything, she wanted to go home. She wanted her own room with her own bed with all her things nearby. She wanted to walk down the streets that she knew, to see the people that she knew and knew her in return.

She wanted to see Mother and Father again, to give them a big hug and tell them that she loved them.

She wanted to be with Kyousuke again, to hold his hand as they walked to school, to hear him play his violin.

And she wanted her friends back. She wanted them to know her face just as she knew theirs. She wanted to call them by their names.

But none of that would ever happen. She had no idea if anyone would ever find her body, or if they did, if it would even be recognizable.

There were just some things that you never, ever forgot, and for Hitomi, it was the sound of her own bones breaking, audible even through the shock and pain, that sickening crunch as that towering monster walloped her fallen body over and over and over-

“You know, if you’re still hungry, you can just go up and get seconds. No need to chew your own fingers off, ze.”

Hitomi started with small squeak of surprise. She had completely zoned out, to the point where she hadn’t even noticed someone coming over to her. She looked up to see another girl staring down at her.

“What?” Hitomi said.

The other girl pointed down at Hitomi’s hand. “Your hand. Can’t imagine that that’s all that tasty.”

Hitomi glanced down, and she realized that she was in the process of chewing nervously on her own fingers, a bad habit she had picked up recently.

“Oh,” she said, hastily pulling her knuckled out of her mouth. “That’s just…that’s just…uh…never mind.”

The other girl was a few years older than her, and seemed to have a mix of Japanese and Caucasian features. Her long blonde hair was wild, with part of it done up in an untidy braid that hung over one shoulder. Her body was slim and rough, and her skin tanned dark, speaking to a life that had a lot of physical activity outdoors, but none of it for aesthetic purpose. She was wearing a pair of frayed, black suspenders; a frilly blouse that might once have been white once long ago; a pair of fingerless black gloves; and a wide-brimmed, pointy black hat. She looked like someone used to constantly being on the move. Despite this, her golden eyes were twinkling with amusement and mischief, much like Sayaka’s always had.

Hitomi looked away from her, hoping that she would take the hint and leave. Instead of doing that, the girl just tilted her head to one side and smirked.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Hitomi’s fingers wrapped around the handle of her umbrella as she tensed up.

“Yeah, I thought so. You can usually pick ‘em out, and I know other strangers when I see one.”

Huh? “St-Stranger?” Hitomi asked.

“Yeah! Someone who ain’t from Freehaven, someone who’s just passin’ through instead of settlin’ down. Like me, ze!”

Okay, so this girl wasn’t from around here. That explained the amount of wear and tear on her outfit, as well as…pretty much everything else about her appearance. Maybe Hitomi was in luck. A traveling vagabond was very unlikely to turn her over to the police.

The other girl waited for Hitomi to respond. When she didn’t, the other girl rubbed her chin and said, “Hmmm. Or maybe not. Mind if I sit? Thanks.”

Before Hitomi could give or deny permission, the other girl plopped down against the tree next to her, leaned back against the trunk with her arms behind her head, stretched out her legs, and removed her hat to toss it over to land on her foot.

“Okay, let’s see if I can figure this out. You’re not from around here, you’re keeping to yourself, you’re in a place with free food, so I’m guessing that you don’t have a place to go at night, and unlike me, it’s not by choice. Your clothes look like they were just taken from whatever was available, probably not yours to begin with. But they also look clean, and you look like you’ve showered recently, so I’m guessing that you haven’t really been on the streets that long. Plus, you’re all the way over here, in a nice neighborhood, and not in the Old Town, where most of the homeless congregate.”

Now Hitomi was getting really nervous.

“So you’re clean but, and hey, no offense, kind of a mess. You’re tired, you’re jumpy, you’re walking around with your Puella Magi weapon out in the open, so…” Then the other girl straightened up. “Oooooh. I get it. You’re brand new, ain’t’cha? Like, not just to Freehaven, but to everything!”

Hitomi breathed out. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Well now. That explains a thing or two, ze. You, uh, know that there’s a group in town that’s specifically for helping people like you, right?”

Hitomi tensed up but said nothing.

“Okay, so you do know. Huh.” Then the other girl shrugged. “Well, ain’t no business of mine. Relax, I’m not gonna turn you in. Not my job to work things out for other people. Anyway, name’s Marisa.” She stuck out one weatherworn hand.

Hitomi reacted before she could think. “Hitomi,” she said, shaking the hand. Then she stiffened. Oh crap, she shouldn’t have done that!

“Hitomi, huh? Well, welcome to Wonderland, Hitomi. Trust me, as weird as things might seem right now, this is one of the more normal places.”

Normal? Here? Hitomi did not like the sound of that at all. “Wonderland?” she said. “Is that what it’s called?”

“It’s what I call it. As good a name as any, and for some reason, no one’s been able to decide on somethin’ official.”

A silence passed, with the two of them just sitting next to one another, watching everyone have fun. Then Marisa sighed.

“Look. I have a pretty good idea of what you’re goin’ through, because it happened to me too. I mean, I didn’t show up in Freehaven at first, but it did have its own integration bureau and all that. And I had a bad first few days like you’re havin’ now. I ran away like you did. Spent a lot of time tryin’ to take care of myself and figure things out. It was…rough. Really rough, for a while.”

Hitomi swallowed.

“But you know what? It does get better, ze.”

“What does?”

“Everythin’. You get used to it. The witches, the magic, the aliens, all of it. You get used to it, and once you do…” Marisa shrugged. “Well. You start learnin’ how to live again. It’s…pretty nice.”

“Does it?” Hitomi said bitterly. “Don’t you care that you got sent here against your will? Don’t you even miss your old life? You’re never going to see your family again! Doesn’t that bother you?”

Marisa’s cocky smile became a little strained. “My mom died when I was really little. And my old man…well, we never saw eye-to-eye. Hell, I ran away when I was a kid and didn’t see much of him after.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Marisa grunted. “Tell the truth, he was the decent sort. We just never agreed on…pretty much anythin’. Probably for the best.” She shifted her weight. “Anyway, I’ve actually been dead longer than I was alive, so it’s all dirt under the coffin now, I guess.”

Hitomi had to admit, she was less than convinced.

“You know what I do miss, though?” Marisa said after a long pause. “My friends. I had some good ones. I mean, there’s a lot of cool people here too, I guess. But man, I really do miss those crazy bitches, ze.”

Hitomi glanced over at her. “You don’t have any friends here?”

“Well…I guess, but I haven’t been able to stick around in one place long enough to build any lastin’ relationships, you know what I mean?” Marisa clasped her hands over her stomach and stared off into the sky. “So, maybe the moral of this whole story is don’t end up like me, I guess.”

“That sounds…pretty sad.”

Marisa shrugged. “I dunno,” she said, twiddling her thumbs. “I mean, it can get pretty lonely.” Then she grinned over at Hitomi. “Maybe that’s why I picked up this bad habit of chatting up anyone sad looking, ze.”

Maybe, but Hitomi felt that there was one significant difference between her and Marisa. “Well, that’s just it,” she said. “That’s why I ran away. It’s not that I don’t want to try to fit in and get used to things, it’s…” She frowned. How was she supposed to put this? “I do have friends here. Both of my best friends from when I was alive die…er, got here before I did. And they’re here, in Freehaven.”

“No shit! Wow. So, that’s why you took off? To go see them?”

“Sort of. But the problem is th-that…” Hitomi’s throat suddenly thickened. She swallowed and tried again. “That they don’t recognize me. And I…don’t recognize everything that they are now.”

Marisa frowned at her for a bit, the wheel inside her head turning. Then she blinked when everything clicked. “Oh. Oh. Oh shit. Damn, but that’s…but that’s…” She shook her head and let out a low whistle.”

“Exactly,” Hitomi muttered. “Apparently they living great lives now and are perfectly happy and all that, but…” She gritted her teeth. “I’m the reason they’re here in the first place! I’m the reason they died, I’m the reason they turned into witches in the first place. A-And I’ve been wanting to find them say I was sorry for so long! You see, I didn’t know what had happened to them! They just disappeared! And I made my contract specifically so I could find them and bring them home! But that just got me stuck here, and sure, I found them, but now I can’t talk to them or apologize like I wanted because they won’t know what I’m talking about, they don’t remember how we all grew up together, spent every day together for all those years, and apparently trying to remind them actually hurts them!” She slammed her fists into the grass. “It sucks! It’s unfair, it’s stupid, and it sucks!”

“Can’t disagree with you there,” Marisa said.

But Hitomi wasn’t done. Now that she had found an attentive and impartial ear, she was going to unload a lot of baggage. “I just wanted to do the right thing! The fair thing! How was I supposed to know that Sayaka had sold her soul, that she was fighting monsters every night? How was I supposed to know that Madoka and Homura were getting ready to lay down their lives for the city? How was I supposed to know that upsetting them too badly would cause them to turn into monsters too? Nobody would tell me anything! Even Kyubey only told me so much! And now I’m dead! I’m dead, but hey, my friends are here, the one I’d been looking for! Except it’s not really them, they don’t know me, and I can’t see them, and that’s just the worst part of it all! It’s just dangling the thing I wanted more than anything right in front of me and it won’t even let me have…won’t let me have…”

Hitomi burst into tears.

As Hitomi cried, Marisa inhaled through her teeth. She glanced around, and then shuffled over so that she was sitting next to the sobbing girl.

“Here,” she said, pulling a red handkerchief with white polka-dots out of her pocket. “Don’t worry, the laundry was one of my first spots, so it’s clean.”

Hitomi was too miserable to care either way. She took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “Thank you.”

“Think nothin’ of it.” Marisa steepled her fingers thoughtfully in front of her chin. “Hmmm, okay, want some advice?”

Hitomi frowned at her. Then she shrugged. “Okay.”

“What’s going on between you and your friends does suck. And yeah, it’s true what they told you about trying to jog their memories. It’s…kind of a bad idea. But even so…just because they don’t remember all those memories you guys share doesn’t mean you can’t start making new memories together.”

Hitomi blinked. “You mean, make friends with them all over again?”

“Why not? Marisa said with a shrug. “I mean, it’s still them. Just, you know, different. And before you know it, you’ll have been friends with them longer in this world than you had been back in the other.”

Hitomi wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that at all. She didn’t want some new Sayaka and Madoka, she wanted her Sayaka and Madoka! “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What if it happened to you? What if those friends you had talked about suddenly showed up here, except they looked…different, had different names, and didn’t even know who you were? And you couldn’t call them by their old names or even look at them without remembering who they used to be?”

Several beats passed before Marisa was able to answer. “You sure you want an honest answer to that, ze?”

Hitomi hesitated, and then nodded. “I do.”

“Huh.” Marisa scratched the back of her neck and then smiled awkwardly. “Well, to tell the truth…I’d probably be pretty pissed off.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And then I’d probably throw a fit and leave town to go sulk by myself in the mountains for a bit.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t blame you. Don’t get me wrong, I love the mountains and all, but I wouldn’t recommend goin’ there to sulk until you’ve learned your way around, ze.” Then Marisa shrugged. “But after I got it out of my system, then I’d probably come back, apologize, and reintroduce myself.”

Hitomi thought about that. She thought about all the memories she had of Sayaka and Madoka, of all the times they had hung out, of all the hardships they had weathered together, and of all the funny mishaps that had made them laugh together.

She thought about the time that she had cleaned Sayaka up after she had gotten a black eye and a bloody nose while standing up to a few older kids that had been bullying Madoka. Sayaka had been so proud! She thought about how the three of them had gotten turned around while walking home one day when she was ten, and how they had somehow ended up lost at the train tracks. Convinced that they were lost for good, they had started making plans for their new life, where they were going to stay and how they would feed themselves, until a station attendant noticed them wandering around and had called the police to have them returned them to their parents. She thought about the time that she had frozen up during her first piano recital and choked in front of everyone. Madoka had been the one to comfort her that night, holding her as she had cried in embarrassment. She thought about the time she had slipped and twisted her ankle, so Sayaka had carried her all the way home on her back.

The two of them had been such a big part of her life, nearly half of it in fact. Was she supposed to just let all those memories go, to pretend that they had never happened? Madoka and Sayaka had lost their entire lives. Was she supposed to do the same, let it all fade away because she wasn’t allowed to share her old life with anyone? That was just too cruel to even think about.

“I can’t do that either,” she whispered. “I c-can’t just pretend that none of that happened. I can’t stay the only one who remembers. Don’t you understand? It’s my life! And if I really am dead now, am I just supposed to pretend that I was never alive to begin with, that none of that mattered?”

Then, before Marisa could answer, Hitomi stood up.

“Thank you for talking to me,” she said. “But I don’t think I can do it like you.”

“Hitomi, wait,” Marisa said as she got up as well. “Listen to me: you can’t force this, okay? It doesn’t work that way, ze!”

Hitomi didn’t acknowledge her. She turned away from the park and walked away.

“I’m serious! Don’t do it, kid. It’ll just end in tears if you do. You’ll just end up hurting them! It’s a bad idea!”

Hitomi pointed her umbrella to the road in front of her. She spread the canopy, took a deep breath, and said, “Take me to my friends. Take me to Sayaka Miki and Madoka Kaname.”

…

When Hitomi stepped out of the portal, she half-expected to be staring and Sayaka and Madoka both.

Instead, her umbrella seemed to be getting the hang of what she really needed. She was standing in a small side-street, one that was empty except for her.

However, she heard voices coming from nearby, along with a weirdly rhythmic, mechanical sound, like the inside of a train’s engine.

“…figure if I can get the hang of this thing, maybe I can add it to my routines,” said a voice that she wasn’t familiar with. “I’m always down to learn a new style.”

“What kind of dance style needs a spear?” said another voice, one that Hitomi did recognize. She inhaled sharply. That was Homura Akemi.

“The really fun kind!” said the first voice. “In all seriousness, there’s plenty of weapon-themed dances out there. So you know, this could end up being a sweet opportunity for me. Expand my arsenal and all that. Um, literally.”

“Well, you’re not practicing in the bedroom, I’m telling you that right now,” said a third voice. “You know the rules. The only dances you’re allowed to do there involve the gradual removal of clothing and unbladed poles.”

Hitomi felt weak in the knees, and she slumped against the nearby wall to keep from collapsing. She covered her mouth. It was Sayaka. That had been Sayaka’s voice.

“Hey, spear dancing can be sexy.”

“And I look forward to seeing you do it on a stage or something like that, and not where you’ll probably gouge out the ceiling.”

Hitomi shook her head. No, she couldn’t afford to be slowed down by emotion, not now. The voices were moving away, and she had to keep up.

Fortunately, the street she was in seemed to be parallel to the one the others were traveling. She crept along, careful to hug the walls, never allowing the voices to get too far ahead.

“Um, have you ever damaged anything with your dancing, Ophelia?”

Hitomi paused for a bit. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. And that had been Madoka. The two of them were together.

Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. Homura was there, as well as was this…Ophelia. Hitomi recalled that name from her interrogation with their other friend Charlotte.

The girlfriends were with them. This could prove…problematic.

“Nah, but remind me to tell you of the time Charlotte decided to try out my pole when she thought I wasn’t around. The results were hilarious!”

“Oregnanomotherfuckingpaprika!”

“Okay, you know what? You’re doing it on purpose now. Don’t think that I don’t know!”

Hitomi paused again, this time out of surprise. That new voice…had been a parrot. They had a parrot with them.

Huh.

Why did they have a parrot with them? And…why was it spouting out swear words and spice names?”

“So, what about you, Gretchen?” she heard Sayaka say. “Getting serious about that archery thing?” Hitomi winced. Sayaka had called her friend Gretchen. Not Madoka. Gretchen.

“I’d like to,” said Madoka. “It seems kind of fun, you know?”

“Well, if I can’t spear dance in the house, she can’t shoot in the house either,” complained Ophelia. “She’ll turn Cheese into a shish-kebab by the end of the week.”

“I wasn’t planning on practicing in the house, silly! I was thinking up in the hills. Besides, these arrows aren’t even sharp!”

And so on. Hitomi crept along, shadowing the group.

And then they reached what seemed to be the bottom of the hill and the end of the town itself. The street opened up to what looked like the city docks. Staying in the shadows, Hitomi peeked out as far as she dared to catch a glimpse of those she was tailing.

It wasn’t hard. They were strolling along, all four of them. There was Homura Akemi, now wearing a pair of black pants and a white hooded jacket with some kind of logo on it. And just as they had been the last time Hitomi saw her, her hands were both bare bone, seemingly dead but moving freely. Also, that flower was still on top of her head. Hitomi wondered if it was a decoration, or if it was actually part of her.

Even with those obvious physical differences, this Homura was very different than the one she had known. That one had been timid, meek, always cringing away and avoiding eye-contact. This one was striding casually along, hands in her pockets and not hiding behind anyone or glancing nervously from side-to-side. She seemed a little preoccupied with something, sure, but didn’t seem all that concerned with that anyone else might think of her. Also, her glasses were gone, and her hair, which had once been done up in a pair of long braids, now flowed freely down her back. It was a good look for her, Hitomi had to admit.

And walking along right in front of her was Madoka. Just seeing her again made Hitomi’s heart ache. Sure, her skin and hair were a few shades darker, and her eyes did seem to be faintly glowing, but the cheerful look was the same. She had on a pink shirt and a pair of legless overalls, with those wire legs popping out of both sides. They were long enough that she was actually head-and-shoulders over all of her friends, but that didn’t seem to bother them any.

Also, for whatever reason, she was carrying a pink bow in one hand and had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder.

It was…troubling to see her like that. On the one hand, she looked so different! Inhuman, even! A change of poise, expression, and lighting, and she could pass for a monster from a horror movie! But put all of that aside, and it was undeniably Madoka, from the way she smiled to the way she talked to even how her hair was done up in a pair of side-tails. Hitomi longed so badly to talk to her. She could put aside all the weird changes. She just wanted Madoka back in her life.

But the one walking with Madoka and Homura might make that a problem. It was the girl from the photo, the one dressed in a red-and-pink suit with the wide-brimmed red hat, the one known as “Ophelia.” Hitomi’s face darkened when she saw her. So, this was the one Sayaka had ended up with, huh? Sayaka had always been something of a romantic, so it made sense that she would end up with someone. But had it been genuine, or had she just settled? More to the point, how would she feel if she were to ever meet Kyousuke again, the boy for whom she had sold her soul?

Just thinking about Kyousuke made Hitomi’s insides clench, so she put it out of her mind and instead studied his replacement. As the picture indicated, Ophelia did seem to be bald under that hat. Also, there was a certain…swagger to the way she walked, a kind of cockiness. Hitomi supposed that one had to be pretty cocky to go outside in that outfit. Regardless, Hitomi was getting the idea that this wasn’t someone she wanted to mess with, though that had less to do with her poise and wardrobe and more to do with the fact that she was carrying an honest-to-God spear under her arm. What in the world was that for? Did people just commonly walk around openly armed around here? What was this, America?

As for Sayaka, well, to Hitomi’s disappointment she couldn’t see her. There did seem to be what looked like a mechanical chair with them, one that walked along on four robotic spider-legs. Its back was to Hitomi, so she couldn’t see its rider, but there was little doubt as to who was in it.

That just confused her though. Was Sayaka crippled somehow? Could people become crippled after their deaths? Maybe she was just injured. Heck, maybe she was just lazy, though Hitomi truly doubted that that was the case.

As for the parrot, it turned out to be a large red macaw riding on the back of the mechanical chair.

Well, it was certainly a very…colorful group. Most of the gang that Hitomi’s friends had started to run with in the last few weeks of their lives was present, save for Mami Tomoe. Still, they seemed happy enough, though that made little sense to her. Huge chunks of their lives were missing. How could they be content?

“Well, off I go,” she heard Sayaka’s voice say from the other side of the chair. “Off to explore the deep, blue depths!”

“Have fun!” Madoka told her, leaning in to give the chair’s occupant a hug. “Don’t get eaten!”

Eaten? What? Hitomi would have thought more on that, but she was more focused on the pair of arms that reached up from the chair to return Madoka’s embrace.

Hitomi sighed. Well, at the very least Madoka and Sayaka were together. Their friendship hadn’t been erased, even if everything else had.

“I’ll see you after you’ve ran your errand, right, Lilly?” Madoka then said to Homura.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it.”

Then Homura reached up, hooked the edge of Madoka’s overalls with one bony finger, and drew her down to give her a kiss.

Hitomi inhaled deeply and slowly breathed out.

“Come on, Cheese!” Madoka said, picking the parrot up from the back of the chair and placing it on her shoulder. “Let’s go have some fun!”

“See you guys at dinner!” Ophelia waved as Madoka and Homura went off in different directions. Then, to the chair, she said, “Okay, look: I know I’ve said this a hundred times-”

“Fee. Relax! I’m the hunter in this situation!”

“I know, I know, it’s just I’ve had so many nightmares of you getting eaten by sea monsters, and now one actually showed up.”

And then the chair’s legs started moving again, this time to turn it around to fully face Ophelia. And, though it was totally unintentional, Hitomi as well.

Hitomi’s throat clenched up. It really was Sayaka! She was right there! Same short blue hair, same little button-nose, same mischievous smirk, same confident air to every movement she made. Granted, the brown newsboy’s cap was new, but she wore it well.

But now that she was able to see her long-lost friend’s profile in full, she understood why she was going about in a robotic chair.

Sayaka was a mermaid. She was wearing a white tee-shirt over her upper body, but from the waist down she had a large fish’s tail, with scales in pink and blue and green and black. There was a kind of special harness extending out from the chair to keep the tail supported.

Hitomi slowly shook her head. Sayaka…was a mermaid. She was a mermaid! It was just so incredibly appropriate for her, a creature that was a mix of feminine beauty and wild strength.

“I know, and I hate making you worry,” Sayaka said. “But look at it this way: after I bag this thing, then you’ll be able to brag about dating Freehaven’s premier monster hunter!”

Ophelia grinned, and even Hitomi had to admit that it was a very fetching grin. “Can we mount its head over the fireplace?”

“Yeah, like I’d let anyone kill something that beautiful. Now give me a kiss.”

Then, before Hitomi had time to prepare herself, Sayaka reached up, grabbed Ophelia by the arm, and drew her down. Their lips met, and Hitomi started to feel very, very strange.

She thought back to all the blushing and giggling the two of them had done when talking about boys. She thought about how red in the face they both had gotten when the subject of kissing had come up. Sayaka had practically made herself swoon when she had gone into detail what she wanted her first kiss to be like, which, of course, had sounded something like a fairy tale, complete with a midnight row into a moonlit lake. They had even seriously considered practicing with each other at one point, though the two of them had gotten too embarrassed to go through with it.

But now there she was, not only openly kissing someone, but another girl at that.

Hitomi had been watching girls loving girls all day. It was still weird, but she was at least getting a little used to it. Watching boy-crazy, hopeless romantic Sayaka do it was very weird. Granted, Sayaka had always been very much a tomboy, so Hitomi wouldn’t blame someone who didn’t know her for mistaking her for a lesbian. But as someone who had grown up with her, it was outright bizarre to see.

But that didn’t stop her from noticing certain details. Madoka and Homura’s kiss from earlier had been sweet and affectionate. This one was deeper, stronger, and very well practiced. They weren’t exactly tearing each other’s clothes off in the heat of passion, but it was clear that the two of them had been lovers for some time. Hitomi had seen her fair number of romantic movies, but she was having a hard time thinking of any time the two leads from any of them had enjoyed the act as much as those two were.

Plus, it was kind of…

Hitomi swallowed.

…kind of…

She rubbed her legs together.

…wow.

The kiss parted, and Sayaka smiled up at Ophelia. “You better not tire yourself out with that thing,” she said, placing a finger against Ophelia’s nose. “I think I’ll be wanting a performance of my own when I get back.”

“Oh, really now?” Ophelia said, waggling her eyebrows. “You know, you gotta pay for that kind of service in most places.”

“Oh, I’ll be paying. You can bet on that.” Then Sayaka laughed and pushed Ophelia away. “Okay, see you tonight. And I promise I won’t get eaten.”

“You know, there are places where you gotta pay for that too.”

“Oh, of course you would know that! Get out of here, already!”

Holstering her spear over her shoulder like a marine’s rifle, Ophelia saluted smartly. “Aye-aye, captain!”

Then she was off, heading back up the hill with her spear, whistling a jaunty tune.

Hitomi blinked. She shook her head, breaking the hypnotic spell that watching them had place upon her and breathed out. Wow.

Then she looked back to Sayaka, who was heading toward one of the boats. She readied herself to go after her, but then hesitated.

Come to think of it, this was a really public place, and she doubted she would be able to get two words in before someone came to take her away. As much as Hitomi wanted to talk to Sayaka, to finally unburden everything she had been aching to tell her, this was neither the time nor the place.

But what could she do then? Go talk to Ophelia? Oh, no, no, no! She would get beaten senseless! Go after Homura? Absolutely not! Even without the whole skeleton thing creeping her out, that weird encounter with her back when they were alive, when Homura had suddenly shown up in her room to threaten her, was more than enough to tell her that Homura Akemi was not one to be trifled with. Besides, they had never really liked each other anyway.

Charlotte was straight out too. Their disastrous meeting from before made her too much of a risk. Maybe she could find this Candeloro, who had once been Mami Tomoe. She had always struck Hitomi as the reasonable type. But…no. She didn’t really know much about her either, and she might just turn Hitomi in the second she saw her.

Hitomi realized that her little mental game was a waste of time. There really was only one choice. Maybe she didn’t need to talk to Madoka as much as she did Sayaka, but she still desperately wanted to talk to her anyway. And Madoka had all but confirmed that she was going to be by herself for the foreseeable future, so Hitomi wasn’t likely to get a better chance than this.

Her path decided, she turned toward where she had seen Madoka go off. It shouldn’t be too hard to find her again. And if she couldn’t…

Hitomi glanced down at the umbrella still clutched in her hand.

…if she couldn’t, then she had the perfect tool to help her find her friend anyway.

…

Now…

Hitomi stood in the knee-deep grass, her umbrella spread over her head, looking up the slope of the hill.

There, near the top, was Madoka. She still had the bird with her, and was shooting arrows at a trio of floating targets. From the look of things, she wasn’t very good at it.

Hitomi took a deep breath. Well, the important thing was that she was alone. There was no one else around, no one to interrupt them, no one to stop her.

Okay. Time to do this.

As she approached, the parrot suddenly noticed that she was coming. It flapped its wings and called her a booger.

Madoka paused, and then turned toward her.

Hitomi was looking right at her as she did so, and so could see her face clearly. First Madoka looked curious, and then confused. And then recognition filled her faintly glowing eyes, and she reared up, looking…actually kind of afraid.

“Hitomi?” she said, “What are…uh…”

Hitomi swallowed. She reached up and pulled down her umbrella’s canopy and then banished the whole thing. She needed Madoka to understand that she wasn’t a threat. She needed her to not be afraid.

“Um, hi,” she said as she walked up toward her long-lost friend. “L-Look, can we talk? Please?”

…

Welcome back, you crazy witch. I’ve missed you.

That having been said, this was probably the most fun I’ve had writing in a long, long time.

Until next time, everyone.

#walpurgis nights

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tinabritton-photography · 5 years

Text

Seeing the Light . . . Portrait Research and practice. Not complete!

Today kicked off a brand new project brief called ‘Seeing the Light’. This brief is designed around capturing 4 portraits, family, friends or strangers, in natural light. In this brief we can use either or a combination of a diffuser, scrim, flags or reflectors in certain situations according to how intense the natural ambient light is.

What are the Qualities of Light?

Natural light is any light generated by the sun. The light of day can be harsh or diffused, depending on the weather, cloud-cover, heat and cold, direction, or even time of year.

Without the benefit of light, there can be no image. The frame would be void, black and lifeless. So one could say that each image has a symbiotic relationship light. There is a push and pull between the areas of shadow and the lighter areas of an image, irregardless of whether the light falling on our subject is natural or lit with studio lighting.

Characteristics of Light

The Golden Hour

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Portrait Lenses

(note: I have not included the 35mm here because headshots taken with the 35mm exhibit distortion. That being said, with distance, the lens can be good, however, it is just not a portrait lens and will never truly be as good as the ones listed below.)

I think that lenses should be chosen by, not only where the image is going to be taken, say, i.e. a very small studio, or on walk-about around Glasgow, but also available light

The three prime portrait lenses that really shine for me are -

50mm - The 50mm prime lense has a wide aperture and is a great standard portrait lens. It has a fantastic shallow depth of field, and though it has less distortion that a 35mm, there is still some barrel distortion with headshots, so I would stick to half-body or full-body captures.

What is barrel distortion? See below.

Barrel distortion is an aberration and “happens because the field of view of the lens is much wider than the size of the image sensor and hence it needs to be “squeezed” to fit”. (Mansurov, 2019)

“Some barrel distortion is present in most wide angle lenses and zoom lenses with relatively short focal lengths.” (Mansurov, 2019)

(Mansurov, 2019)

Since we have spoken about barel distortion, we have to include pin cushion distortion. Pin cushion distortion in zoom lenses, in particular, consumer grade or even some pro lenses. More expensive lenses contain compensating elements that reduce pincushion distortion to acceptable levels.

(Mansurov, 2019)

The above are examples of optical distortion.

Below is what happens when you capture up-close images with a wide angle lens. This however, has to do with perspective distortion and not lens distortion. Lenses have no perspective. I will be researching this further in a later blog.

(Mansurov, 2019)

See below - focal length does not impact perspective distortion when you are far enough away from your subject.

(Lightroom, 2019)

However - perspective distortion is caused by the distance between the lens and the subjects face, NOT focal length.

(Lightroom, 2019)

85mm - Most photographers would agree that the 85mm is the best lens for portrait photography. It has a wide aperture, shallow depth of field and less of the distortion that we get with the 35mm and 50mm lenses, however there is still some barrel distortion. It is still a go-to lens though because close-up to our sitter we capture a flattering perspective of our subject’s face. Also, 85mm at 1.4mm - 1.8mm will make the background melt into a creamy background, even with waist-high shots, and full length shots. At full length there is still a wonderful 3D feel to the shots with a decent amount of background if you so choose.

135mm - The 135mm prime lens has a wide aperture and longer focal length which gives gorgeous bokeh. I have a manual 135mm lense and the bokeh is swirly and beautiful and it produces sharp images, however, it is manual focus, so would be better in the studio imo. I do note however that, the 85mm is a better choice for closeness to the subject you are shooting. A conversation can continue and a rapport can be built to put her or him at ease. (Abbott, 2019)

Nikkor DX 18-105mm lens - This has been my go to lens when I am out shooting street photography or street portraits. It spans the ranges I need for portrait photography. For example, see the 4 images below . . .

TinaBritton Photography 2014

TinaBritton Photography 2017

105mm (full frame sensors) - This is my next prime lens. Yes, the 18-105mm I already own expands to 105mm, however, I want the constant large aperture the Sigma lens offers.

What about zoom lenses?

What if you only have a 70-200mm (as with the 18-105mm above) in your bag and cannot afford prime lenses right now? The 70-200mm can work for you in many portrait situations. Now, I like to be close to my models. It’s more personal and while I am shooting, I can have a conversation with he or she. This puts the model at ease. With this lens we can still shoot in that range, however, that being said, capturing a portrait, though I have to stand further away, at say, 200mm at 2.8mm creates a beautiful background and unique perspective. Watch out for distortion. (Hull and >, 2019)

*****************************************************************************************************

How do we control the light?

What is a Scrim?

Scrims is a woven fabric on a frame that reduces the light by about 1/2 stop. “The Full scrims will dim the light intensity across the entire beam spread, while 1/2 and graduated scrims are used to even out the beam spread when lighting a subject or background from an angle.”

(Anon, 2019)

What is a Flag?

A flag (black refector) is used to block or control (shape) the light in your scene. It can be used to fill in shadow (negative fill) and to increase contrast. It can stop flares from reaching your camera, almost in the same way a lens hood does.

(Digital-photo-secrets.com, 2019)

What is a diffuser?

A diffuser (or silk) goes between your light source and your subject and produces a finer light, like a softbox. It reduces glare and is flattering to your subject.

(Ghionis, 2019)

What is a reflector?

A reflector helps light reach your subject and also helps to soften the light meeting your subject. It comes in silver and gold and white. Many come in a kit as the one seen below. Be careful using the silver as it can be harsh if bouncing bright sun. Gold gives your subject a golden hour look, however, in some situations, can give your sitter a strange glow. White gives your subject a soft glow.

(Digital-photo-secrets.com, 2019)

Choose 5 Photographers -

1. Henri Cartier-Bresson -

Henri Cartier-Bresson was born to a successful textile manufacturer and his mother (1908-2004) in France. The master of capturing a candid moment, Bresson was the father of street photography and photojournalism. It was his belief that photography was about capturing the spontaneous or the ‘decisive moment’.

Throughout his career, Bresson took hundreds of natural light portraits of famous people, many of them well known and important artists of his era.

It was in 1947 that Henri and some of his peers started a cooperative photography agency called Magnum Photos, dedicated to the premise that photography had become an influential communicative tool. Bresson’s responsibility in the agency was to travel to India and China, but he also travelled to countries such as Greece, Moscow, Egypt and America. His most beloved assignment was his trip to Moscow. “He was the first photographer allowed to enter the USSR after the death of Stalin in 1953”. (Huxley-Parlour Gallery, 2019)

Photograph of Pablo Picasso by Henri Cartier-Bresson. (Ipoxstudios.com, 2019)

Photograph of Pablo Picasso by Henri Cartier-Bresson (Ipoxstudios.com, 2019)

Photograph of Henri Matisse by Henri Cartier-Bresson. (Ipoxstudios.com, 2019)

2. John Loengard -

John Loengard is an American photography born 1934 in New York. Harvard educated, he learned his craft at the International Centre for Photography in New York. His photographic journey began when he was 11 years of age when he began capturing images of his family.

It was in his senior year at Harvard when Loengard was asked by Life magazine to freelance for them by photographing a freighter run aground on Cape Cod in 1956. This began his work with the Magazine.

In 1972 Life magazine suspended its weekly publication and it was then that became the picture editor of Life Special Reports. At the time, he was also the picture editor of People magazine during is formation and for the beginning 3 months of its publication.

Loengard helped in Life magazine’s rebirth and was its picture editor until 1987. While working for Life and other magazines, the photographer authored 10 books and in 2005, He was named “One of the 100 most influential people in Photography” by American Photo. He was inducted into the International Photography Hall of Fame in 2018.

Below is an image of Georgia O'Keeffe sitting on the roof of her home in 1967.

Georgia O'Keeffe photographed on the roof of her Ghost Ranch home in New Mexico, 1967. John Loengard—The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images. (Time, 2019)

Image of Richard Avedon by John Loengard, 1994. (Photographers, Books and Hours, 2019)

Annie Leibovitz with her Assistant, Robert Bean on the Chrysler Building by John Loengard. (Johnloengard.com, 2019)

Brassai's Eye by John Loengard. (Johnloengard.com, 2019)

3. Alfred Eisenstaedt -

was a German-born American photographer who was well known for taking black and white shots of celebrities and is famous for using the 1.5 Armature. What is the 1.5 Armature?

“1.5 Armature: There are two ways to break down a 1.5 rectangle. The most basic is the 1.5 Armature. It is created by drawing two diagonals from each corner of a negative. Then draw their reciprocals from opposing corners, which intersect the diagonals at 90°. Through the Eyes of the Diagonal and their reciprocals, draw vertical and horizontal lines through their intersections. The 1.5 Armature was a very popular method used by Cartier Bresson early in his career.” (PetaPixel, 2019)

Below we have Marilyn Monroe in a black and white sweater. Her hair has a soft sheen and is worn natural. The background appears to be a barn structure and give the image a mid-tone grey texture.

Marilyn Monroe (Black Sweater Landscape), 1953

Below is an iconic image seen from around the world. A crowd of happy people gathered on the street in celebration, a man tilts his girl back for a long overdue kiss. I have always loved this image and the start black and white contrast.

Alfred Eisenstaedt, VJ Day in Times Square, August 14-1945, Robert Mann Gallery (PetaPixel, 2019)

What can I say? We all know who this man is in the photo below. Albert Einstein sits writing. Love the rich blacks and the striped batter of the chair against the grey of his sweater and white of his hair.

Alfred Eisenstaedt, Albert Einstein, Princeton, New Jersey, 1949, Robert Mann Gallery. (Artsy.net, 2019)

4. Stanislav Puchkovsky (Sean Archer on 500px) is self taught photographer from Yekaterinburg, Russia. He picked up his first camera in 2012 (a Lumix G3) and hasn’t stopped shooting since. And his light source? He uses natural light to capture his classically beautiful images. Amazingly, he shoots all his portraits in his apartment with window light. (Sarkar, Kosa and Sarkar, 2019)(Diamond, 2019)

(Diamond, 2019)

(Sarkar, Kosa and Sarkar, 2019)

(Archer, 2019)

5. Magdalena Berny

Berny is a self-taught photographer born in 1976 and based in Poland. Her natural light child portraits have been recognised and published in “various press dedicated to photographs such as Digital Camera, Click Magazine, Modern Lens Magazine, Magzter, Great Inspire, just to name few.” (Symposion 2019, 2019)

(Dreams Factory Photography, 2019)

(Instagram.com, 2019)

Today we went on a walkabout from class in Glasgow to take images of each other (students). The group I was with only chose a silver/white reflector. The diffuser disappeared with the other students.

Here are but a few of the images I captured on the day . . .

Intensely Adam . . .

We used a refector to get light into the ‘cage-like’ structure. I like framing my subjects. I should have had Adam hide his earphones. I can always take them out in Photoshop. Here we are using a silver reflector. I can only assume that the colour cast on Adam’s face is from the rust covered bars surrounding him.

I’m not perfect. It has been a long time, and the excitement of taking images out with the class was the only reason I can fathom why I would make such a rookie mistake as allowing the top of the stone fence behind Adam to run right through his head. No refector.

I like taking images of my subjects that help tell a story about who they are. Adam is extremely talented and has great instincts in photography. Here we are using no reflector.

This is a woman with her dog. She was walking on the pathway where we were practicing and I asked if we could take her portrait. She was reluctant at first, but said yes. I could tell she was all about her dog. This image is a dog portrait with their human. (Again with the wall. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were through her shoulders.)

The lovely woman put down her dog and allowed me to take her photo. She didn’t take off her sunglasses.

Adam being inquisitive . . .

Adam relaxing on the wall.

Adam rules on the wall . . . a bit over exposed on his face me thinks?

Adam peering into the lens.

My brief, well underway . . .

For my first portrait, I chose my husband. We actually took photos for this portrait the same time and day as I was also working on my #Who project. This worked out well. I love the small Laundry cabin that is situated in the beautiful Finlaystone Country Estate; a large country estate in Renfrewshire near Glasgow, seat of the current Chief of the Clan MacMillan. We have visted here a few times, and I love walking about the trees. The laundry cabin is awesome with its old world objects.

For my second portrait, I chose my friend Andrew. We travelled to Glasgow and visited our favourite place to eat because I knew they had big beautiful windows. The thing about the windows, they are not clean on the outside, so they diffused the light really well. The weather was 13 celsius and it was a cloudy day. Exposure was 1/100 sec at f4.5 using my 50mm lens. I had him sit really close to the window. What I noticed was, there was this white powdery looking dust on the outside of the window and it seemed to make the entire window, even though it was cloudy, glow with light.

For my 3rd portrait, I am going to capture images of strangers, either on Glasgow streets, or perhaps walking in the woods. I have taken my first images of a very talented woman singing on Buchanan Street in Glasgow. I loved her soulful voice. I walked up and stood in front of her until I caught her gaze. I pointed at her, as she was singing, and pointed at my camera then to her. She nodded yes to my silent request. She kept singing while I took a few shots.

I will take further portraits of strangers in the coming week.

For my 4th portrait, I have captured images of my 93-year-old mother-in-law. She is a beautiful woman who lives in Port Glasgow high above the Clyde. There is a gorgeous veiw from her window. I wanted to use that as my backdrop as she has strong ties with her community and has been living in the same house for 65 years. As a matter of fact, my husband was born in the house.

Mum is always talkative, and she never sits still. She is the most inquisitive woman I know to date. Because I knew this setting up for our session, I asked her to stand next to her favourite place, the large picture window in her living room. She continued to ask questions so I took many images in an attempt to get the ones I really wanted.

Mum was getting tired, so I had her sit every once in a while, every second that passed changed the available lighting dramatically.

I decided later to go outside and capture mum in her window, as she can often be seen by the neighbours looking out.

I mixed some more portrait shots of my mum in with the last. OOPS. The last shot was a dramatic silhouette of mum.

Prakel, D. (2007). Lighting. Lausanne, Switzerland: AVA, pp.56-70. (Prakel, 2007)

Lightroom, P. (2019). Choosing the Best Focal Length for Portraits. [online] Pretty Presets for Lightroom. Available at: https://www.lightroompresets.com/blogs/pretty-presets-blog/best-focal-length-portraits [Accessed 4 Oct. 2019]. (Lightroom, 2019)

Mansurov, N. (2019). What is Lens Distortion?. [online] Photographylife.com. Available at: https://photographylife.com/what-is-distortion [Accessed 4 Oct. 2019]. (Mansurov, 2019)

Hull, C. and >, M. (2019). What Is the Best Lens for Portraits? | Photography Equipment. [online] ExpertPhotography. Available at: https://expertphotography.com/best-lens-for-portraits/ [Accessed 30 Sep. 2019]. (Hull and >, 2019)

Abbott, J. (2019). Three prime lenses every portrait photographer needs to consider. [online] digitalcameraworld. Available at: https://www.digitalcameraworld.com/tutorials/the-best-portrait-lens-three-lenses-every-portrait-photographer-needs-to-consider [Accessed 30 Sep. 2019]. (Abbott, 2019)

Cambridgeincolour.com. (2019). Making the Most of Natural Light in Photography. [online] Available at: https://www.cambridgeincolour.com/tutorials/natural-light-photography.htm [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019]. (Cambridgeincolour.com, 2019)

Neirynck, F. (2019). Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908 – 2004) | Le Couperet. [online] Lecouperet.net. Available at: http://www.lecouperet.net/hcb/en/portraits-by-hcb [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019]. (Neirynck, 2019)

Ipoxstudios.com. (2019). You are being redirected.... [online] Available at: https://ipoxstudios.com/proof-that-henri-cartier-bresson-used-dynamic-symmetry-in-photography-4k-video/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Photographers, A., Books, p. and Hours, O. (2019). Age of Silver: Encounters with Great Photographers | powerHouse Books. [online] Powerhousebooks.com. Available at: http://www.powerhousebooks.com/books/age-of-silver-encounters-with-great-photographers/ [Accessed 5 Oct. 2019]. (Photographers, Books and Hours, 2019)

Huxley-Parlour Gallery. (2019). Henri Cartier-Bresson | Photographer's Biography & Art Works | Huxley-Parlour Gallery. [online] Available at: https://huxleyparlour.com/artists/henri-cartier-bresson/ [Accessed 5 Oct. 2019]. (Huxley-Parlour Gallery, 2019)

Johnloengard.com. (2019). John Loengard – Photographs. [online] Available at: https://johnloengard.com/ [Accessed 5 Oct. 2019]. (Johnloengard.com, 2019)

Time. (2019). https://time.com. [online] Available at: https://time.com/3491091/georgia-okeeffe-invincible/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Sarkar, G., Kosa, M. and Sarkar, S. (2019). Stanislav Puchkovsky (Sean Archer) - Incredible Portrait Photographer from Russia - 121Clicks.com. [online] 121clicks.com. Available at: https://121clicks.com/showcases/stanislav-puchkovsky-sean-archer-incredible-portrait-photographer-from-russia [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

Archer, S. (2019). Sean Archer on Fstoppers. [online] Fstoppers. Available at: https://fstoppers.com/profile/37142 [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Diamond, D. (2019). Stanislav Puchkovsky (aka Sean Archer) is a Master of Natural Light Portraits. [online] Fstoppers. Available at: https://fstoppers.com/bts/stanislav-puchkovsky-aka-sean-archer-master-natural-light-portraits-9584 [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

PetaPixel. (2019). The Great Compositions of Photographer Alfred Eisenstaedt. [online] Available at: https://petapixel.com/2013/04/15/the-great-compositions-of-photographer-alfred-eisenstaedt/ [Accessed 30 Sep. 2019]. (PetaPixel, 2019)

Artsy.net. (2019). Alfred Eisenstaedt: Portraits of the Past | Robert Mann Gallery | Artsy. [online] Available at: https://www.artsy.net/show/robert-mann-gallery-alfred-eisenstaedt-portraits-of-the-past [Accessed 30 Sep. 2019]. (Artsy.net, 2019)

SLR Lounge. (2019). The Flash Modifier You Already Own - SLR Lounge. [online] Available at: https://www.slrlounge.com/workshop/the-flash-modifier-you-already-own/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Sekonic.com. (2019). Working with the Sun | Photography How To Articles – What's Your Specialty? Photographer. [online] Available at: https://www.sekonic.com/united-kingdom/whatisyourspecialty/photographer/articles/working-with-the-sun.aspx [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Digital-photo-secrets.com. (2019). What in the heck is that thing for? A photographer's guide to using the black flag :: Digital Photo Secrets. [online] Available at: https://www.digital-photo-secrets.com/tip/6721/guide-using-black-flag/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Anon, (2019). [online] Available at: https://www.adorama.com/dodsck.html [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Ghionis, J. (2019). How to Perfect Natural Light with a Collapsible Diffuser feat. Jerry Ghionis. [online] Westcott University. Available at: https://westcottu.com/using-the-omega-reflector-as-a-diffuser [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Instagram.com. (2019). #magdalenabernyphotography hashtag on Instagram • Photos and Videos. [online] Available at: https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/magdalenabernyphotography/?max_id=1254958811895111547 [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Dreams Factory Photography. (2019). MAGDALENA BERNY - STUDIO PORTRAIT. [online] Available at: https://www.dreamsfactory.co.uk/event/magdalena-berny-studio-portrait [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Instagram.com. (2019). PAGE1 (@page1mag) • Instagram photos and videos. [online] Available at: https://www.instagram.com/page1mag/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

Symposion 2019. (2019). Magdalena Berny | Children Portraits. [online] Available at: https://www.symposion.photo/en/magdalena-berny-en/ [Accessed 15 Sep. 2019].

#seeing

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myvoicenottheoneyougiveme · 3 years

Video

youtube

I was in the neighborhood when I dug up the one for the post just a few minutes ago.

Relevant context here is important. I’ve pointed to and named books or methods or essentially ways of living, healthy ways of being, that I am and have been actively harassed for. Breaking into my digital spaces, offline even, harassing me for simply existing, for daring to exist. But I’ve pointed to methodologies, and I’ve laid claim to the fact that not only am I denied my personal space--my right to breathe and feel and experience things deeply that are personal or intimate while maintaining my right to choose how near or how far THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD (apparently,) is in those moments--but I am also denied the possibility of going any deeper than that.

I’ve advocated for what is essentially emotional presence, and so many of my muses (that I’ve been coerced into letting go of) double as these described trips back in time, accessing emotional states frozen in time out of youth. Media and art can be very powerful, and while it’s all in the neighborhood, there isn’t quite a substitute for working through an actual process whether with a book like any I’ve ever cited, or with an actual therapist--something that was undone, not by me, shortly after arriving in this state.

I’ve said in so many ways both simple and long-winded, that I am no longer allowed the personal freedom--the personal space--by my stalker in my own home to experience anything anymore, much less do the difficult task of digging as deep as “therapy” requires. Surviving “this” onslaught--”this” never ending day--is antithetical to being here and now. I survive “this” abuse in the only way a person can, by dissociating from my every waking moment in “this” toxic, caustic environment I am enveloped in.

“This” happening, is death. “This” happening, the problem I have with it, it’s not being some brat who’s had their toys taken away. I CANT LIVE “this” way.

I didn’t even get through this video, it highlights everything about psychotherapy that I’ve ever been shown or taught or learned of my own volition.

The point here is that, this subject is precisely what is being fought about. My stalker wants to change the subject and make it about this or about that, but my issue with what’s happening to me is quite simple. And it gives rise to everything else, that my stalker/gaslighter wants to then inflate and throw back at me to change the subject.

We were talking about this, this right here. This. My right to peace in my own home, in my own personal space, my right to not be harassed, stalked, manipulated, gaslit. I don’t even have the words for what the rest of you who are apart of “this” take for granted. It’s so simple, but it’s so profound. The words will never weigh as much as what is robbed.

I can’t breathe. It never ends. It never stops. It’s always on. It’s everywhere, all the time, just like it always was. And even if I cope with what’s being done to me in more or less dysfunctional ways, I am not allowed to do anything else. I am not allowed to be. I am not allowed to breathe.

This right here was the point I was making before my tormentor(s) decided to change subjects by zooming in with a microscope on something else to obfuscate the larger picture of what’s wrong with “this”. She/they/”this” is/are not allowed to be what is wrong with “this” picture. I am not allowed to be better off without the one(s) here to save me and save us all from me. A different crisis sold to me and everyone else every day of the week. She has to be the lifeline, the source, the one through whom anything remotely good (or bad) comes or goes from my life. It’s not allowed to come from me. I’m not allowed to be better off without. No one is allowed to be better off without the narcissist. Ever. That’s standard fare.

No, I’m this HUGE problem that only she can fix. Everything, something different on a given day, whatever is within reach at the moment, everything a crisis and all further evidence and justification for her extraordinary “oversight”.

I’m not allowed to be better off without, and it shows in every way she tries to break me down. If it doesn’t come from her, if it doesn’t follow her script, it’s a great big problem that has to be stamped out.

What is happening to me, what has been happening to me for years, what I don’t believe will ever stop on its own, it is the antithesis of everything encapsulated in this video, every freedom I am denied, everything I’ve ever tried to do or have for myself.

My life’s sponsor(s) have a vested interest in holding onto power over me by any means necessary. No lie she/they won’t tell, nothing she/they won’t blow up into whatever they can to keep pedaling their narrative to keep their circus going at any cost. Ends justifying means. Intentions of the perpetrator more important than the effect on the person it’s all feigned to be for, to help. ...I should be grateful. I should be reverent and compliant. I should hold her up in the same esteemed light everyone she conscripts does. The fact that I could take issue at all with someone so benevolent and kind and trustworthy and innocent and who's such a big fucking victim themselves... out to cure the world of all its ills... the fact that I could take issue with her or with any of it, it’s all somehow proof of why “This” has to be done to me.

Everything is somehow proof of why “this” has to be done to me. Nothing can be that isn’t. By her and for her. And by no means better off without. Destroy me rather than let that happen.

Edit:

The things nearest to me, that I would dare to come near to in my own personal space, what you've taken every opportunity to capitalize on and violate... they're beyond steeped in it--the pain they’re talking about

...and you know it. But humanity in me, doesn't help you, doesn't aid your narrative, doesn't give you leverage or justification for exercising and abusing extraordinary power in my life, to stalk and manipulate and harass and isolate and punish for simply existing. The act in itself is violent, whether you make an opportunity (which you always do) or not, to run with it. The act of breaking in, is itself violent and traumatic.

You preclude life itself.

0 notes

dong-hyucks · 6 years

Text

fear is our enemy. | na jaemin [4]

➳ genre. spy!au, future!au, angst, minor fluff ➳ warnings. mentions of blood and death, character death in later chapters, swearing ➳ word count. 3.2k+ ➳ author’s note. admin cj wrote this b l e s s we are in the midst of a talented wriTER - admin. jade ➳ synopsis. [Y/N] Park, the adopted daughter of late director Park Minjun, crosses paths with Na Jaemin, a spy known for his aloof tendencies. now, they have to save her brother from an unexpected enemy.

➳ masterlists. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9. | epilogue.

“That’s my brother sleeping,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. “And that,” you zoomed in, “is a shadow of a man with a gun.”

Slowly, your whole body began to quake. Terror consumed even the darkest depths of your body, and Jaemin’s eyes went wide. If he could have one million tries to peg your personality, this wouldn’t even be in the top ten thousand. He never thought he’d see you look so broken. The pain in your eyes was almost unbearable, and the way your stitches gnarled your—what he could only assume—once gentle features was horrifying.

Jaemin just stared at you in disbelief for a few minutes. If you started to cry, he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t think your emotional spectrum was big enough to encompass this unbelievable amount of sorrow painted across your face—just anger and the occasional sprinkle of happiness that trickled through you daily life.

“Hey,” Jaemin’s utterance was quiet—almost inaudible—his gaze burned into your tell-tale glare, “does his phone, perhaps, have a tracking app on it?” In an instant, your eyes brightened slightly and you dashed past him to Donghyuck’s cubicle-type office.

You were sore all over, but none of it mattered. None of it fucking mattered. It wasn’t important that every time you placed your foot on the ground you flinched because it mimicked the sound of a gunshot, nor was it important that you had just left your assigned partner in the dust once again. All that you needed to find out was where Jisung was, and if he was safe. Your little brother had nothing to do with this, he was never involved. This was purely a dig at you.

Baekhyun’s words were like an unhappy spirit that wouldn’t move on. They wouldn’t let go … not of you, not of anyone. The sentence was etched into your memory with the same knife that had cut through your skin. Through the blazing heat of your anger, you could remember bits and pieces of what he had said. “Chanyeol.”

Then, Jongdae’s stammering response came back, “Park,” he had stammered, “Park Chanyeol.” Shuddering, you kept going, trying to clear your mind, but also stuffing it with new ideas simultaneously. Jaemin’s curt calls from behind you meant nothing as you walked down the seemingly endless hallway. Your breathing was unusually heavy and your heart was beating rapidly.

Jaemin’s quick pace—one he rarely took—soon matched yours, but you paid no attention to him. “Y’know, you could’ve at least waited for me. It was my idea after all.” His utterance pierced the thick atmosphere like a sharp knife. The fiery glare that you cast at him did you no good, as he shot one back. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and shoved him out of the way to open the entrance to Donghyuck’s work area.

“What?” He paused. “No snarky comment? That’s new. I kind of like it; silence is a good look on you.” That remark set your insides ablaze. Your face burned with fury, but your mind was as cold as ice.

“Oh,” you replied cooly, “I thought you already knew I didn’t care. Would you like me to say it out loud?” The gleam of amusement in Jaemin’s eyes hardened and he sneered at you, huffing and puffing as he made his way into the chilled space. Internally, you smirked triumphantly, but on the outside, your brow was creased in worry.

As you walked into the cluttered sector of HQ, you grew surprised. Papers were strewn everywhere, computer parts were scattered about on the floor, and most of the desks were messy. Donghyuck’s eyes widened when you tapped his shoulder to bring him from the trance-like state he fell into while cleaning.

“I need your help.” Your voice softened word by word as you looked at all the cuts and bruises crowding his face. A grin played on his lips—it took away from the ugliness of the wounds. In an instant, the previous rage that had filled your body came back, and you whipped around to face Jaemin. His eyebrows flew up like they were challenging you to something, you sniffed and swiveled back to Donghyuck, trying to ignore Jaemin’s presence looming in the background.

“Always,” he smiled, “what can I do for you, [Y/N]?” Donghyuck stood up and strolled to his computer, throwing glances over his shoulder every so often. When he reached his chair, he collapsed and spun to place his questioning gaze back on you.

“Do you remember when you met my little brother?” Donghyuck nodded. “We put a tracker in his phone, right?” Nod. “Can you find it?” Nod. “Can you do it quickly?” Another nod. You pondered that fact, thinking back to your hacker days, trying to recall the day when Jisung had accidently saw you at “work.”

“Just track it,” Jaemin interjected, breaking your train of thought. Despite your obvious dislike towards him, you silently thanked him, because you weren’t sure you would’ve been able to say it without mentally shutting down. Slowly but surely, you could feel the strong wall you had built up against reality begin to crumble, and it was killing you. You weren’t doing a great job convincing yourself that you could keep it together.

Sneakily, Jaemin was peeking down at you—not in the least concerned, just validating his selfish worries. He couldn’t work with you if you were going to be a child—but you had no plans on doing so. Every time his eyes fluttered down to you, he noticed your hands doing something different. The first time, they were fiddling with your hair. The second, you were twiddling your thumbs. And, the third, your fingers flew across the keyboard, answering the security questions needed to access the tracking program.

“Damn it, Jisung,” you cursed, “how the hell would I know the name of your first pet?” Jaemin laughed humorlessly to himself—and you, being trained in picking up small noises—pivoted your head, staring at him. “Would you like to try, Na Jaemin? Since you find this funny.”

He straightened out immediately, and his solemn expression floated back onto his features. He stalked to the square letters and began to type, “F-L-U-F-F-Y,” he muttered under his breath as his long digits typed in the less-than-professional word. Pressing enter, he gazed victoriously at the screen.

“Find My iPhone is now locating—Park, fire emoji, fire emoji, Jisung’s iPhone.” As the speaker spat out the name, you looked up at the ceiling, and sent a silent prayer to anyone—or at this point anything—that happened to be listening. Fire emoji? Couldn’t it have just left them out? You just hope it found the phone fast.

“[Y/N],” Donghyuck’s voice broke the tension in the air, “it’s in the alley behind Hakoya Ramen.” He copy and pasted the address, clicked into a new window, and tried to enhance the photo of it. “The only thing back there—” Donghyuck paused for awhile, seeming to have a mental debate on whether he should let the words slip from his mouth, or not, “—is a dumpster.”

In that instant, your heart stopped, and you felt yourself careening to the left. A dumpster. A dumpster was the worst place that Donghyuck could’ve said. You gripped your temples with both hands, and Jaemin whacked the back of your head with the palm of his hand. Donghyuck looked at him as white as a piece of printer paper, and rapidly rotated his chair to face the screen. Like an owl searching for its prey, your gaze whirled to meet his.

“Standing there with your hands to your face isn’t going to get you to your brother faster,” Jaemin snorted, already on his way out. You hurried to catch up, not wanting to be in his shadow.

“I was thinking of a plan, Jaemin,” you replied, voice taut. He exhaled sharply, wheeling around on the ball of his right foot. “Remind me to never ask you to make a quick decision then.” With that, a quietude fell upon the night, and neither of you spoke until you had reached the sleek, black travel vehicle. Jaemin gave the operator a slip of paper and muttered a single word before sitting back in his seat.

“Drive.”

Arriving at Hakoya, the two of you were extremely conspicuous whilst climbing out of the van. If you were anywhere else—like on a mission, or at the airport—you wouldn’t have been noticed, but in front of the noodle shop, all customers could do was stare. You tilted your head down, partly because you didn’t want Jaemin to see the tiny tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes, and partly because you didn’t want anyone to recognize you. Admitting to being paranoid was an understatement.

Jaemin wrenched your arm, pulling you into the dark backstreet. As soon as you caught a glimpse of the ineffably large trash heap, you stumbled a bit, feeling your stomach fold in on itself. He caught you just as you put a hand over your mouth. The slow, flaming sensation of vomit crawling up your throat was overwhelming, but you pushed it back down with a forceful swallow. Jaemin’s steps echoed as he neared the giant garbage can.

“He’s your brother,” Jaemin chuckled, a bitter edge to his laughter, “you get to dumpster-dive.” Inching towards the metal contraption, you screwed your eyes shut and turned your nose up at the smell. It was almost unbearable, but you pressed on, hoping to locate something useful. Jaemin was showing no symapathy as he watched you dig through trash—but in his eyes, there was a glint on amusement. His gaze would’ve irritated you if a strong odor hadn’t captured your attention.

Soundlessly, you waved him over, no longer caring how much of an ass he had been. He awaited a comment, and you could sense him becoming impatient. It was only after a few minutes that you spoke.

“Please,” you pleaded, “please tell me that it doesn’t smell like blood.” Jaemin walked to the place where you were pointing, and was suddenly bombarded with the foul stench of stale blood and sweat. He wrinkled his nose in protest, but kept feeling around—for anything, really. Jaemin’s body froze as his hand came in contact with razor-sharp shards of glass. Hastily, Jaemin retracted his gory appendage and muttered a string of profanities. After the spell of pain, he went right back in. But, this time, he pulled something out. While inspecting the object in his grasp, you became as still as a stone statue.

“Goddammit,” Jaemin’s use of colorful language jerked you out of your living nightmare, “[Y/N], take the fucking thing out of my hands.” You speedily grabbed the picture frame, and watched as Jaemin ripped a portion of his black sleeve off to tie around the grotesque lacerations. Scrutinizing the rusted structure, you noted the crimson flecks that coated the outside of it. Instantaneously, the feeling of nausea—which you had become so dreadfully familiar with—washed over you. You choked on your own spit, trying to prevent yourself from heaving your protein bar up and onto the ground.

“That’s—” your voice hit a snag, “that’s Jisung.” Jaemin trudged over to you, clutching his damaged arm to his side. You recalled the picture in vague detail. It was in the summer—right after Jisung’s school was out— and all of your family, your mother, your father, your older brother, and Jisung were all beaming. It was a sight to see. Everyone in your family—happy. The picture was unusual to say the least, but it was a treasured possession of yours, and you always left it with Donghyuck for safekeeping ... at his desk.

The seriousness of what was at hand was just beginning to set in, and your knees screeched in pain as they crashed to the cement below. Your youthful body should’ve been able to take the blow, but all you could do was sob. You knew where this picture was taken, and you knew where it was stolen from. It was photographed right after a successful mission against EXO. Your recollection explained the huge smiles on everyone’s faces—everyone except for Jisung. He was oblivious to the truth, he didn’t know that his whole family was apart of NCT, and that made your heart ache. When the break-in occurred, Baekhyun or Jongdae must’ve taken the photo as well as the documents. The thought itself was chilling, and you shivered, continuing to cry.

All the while, Jaemin had already contacted HQ, getting the car to come back and pick the two of you up. In a few short minutes, he thumped the top of your head with a week-old, rotting newspaper.

“The car’s here.” His voice was strained, almost like someone was compressing it between both hands. “Get up, and let’s go.” You struggled to stand, and Jaemin grabbed your arms and roughly pulled you up, yanking you around the corner and onto the street. The van waited patiently, as you clambered into it.

It drove into the darkness quietly. The engine humming a sweet melody as the yellow lines on the road began to move faster. The air was still, but it lacked the peace that one would usually find within it. As the seconds of the clock ticked by, your anger stewed and bubbled.

“Chanyeol,” you muttered, an acidic taste flooding your mouth, “Park Chanyeol.” Jaemin cocked a brow, but you didn’t offer him another word. You peered out the tinted window, hoping that you would see a corpse on your way back—preferably Park Chanyeol’s.

You stormed back into HQ. Johnny tried to speak a hello, but you took no notice of his attempts at conversation. The look on your face should’ve been enough to send him—and others—running for the hills. Jaemin trailed closely behind you, lurking wordlessly in your wake. He knew exactly where you were going, but he decided not to disturb you, fearing for his life—and other, unmentionables he would like to keep.

When you reached Taeyong’s office, your face was beyond the color red. In fact, it was almost blue. Jaemin couldn’t tell if you hadn’t breathing out of worry or if you were really that enraged. He didn’t know which choice scared him more, but he tried to keep his cynical remarks to a minimum.

The loud clang that occurred when the metal structure of the picture frame crashed onto Taeyong’s desk resonated throughout the room. Sluggishly, Taeyong turned to peer at you. His eyes had a serious glint in them, one that practically spelled danger out on his forehead. But, in all honesty, you couldn’t have cared less. You stared back into his gaze with just as much ferocity. A twinkle of pride flashed across Taeyong’s features.

“I want this DNA tested,” you growled, “now.” Taeyong clicked his tongue and drummed his fingers against the chipping wood of his work space. Though his stance was cold and his statements were sharp, you could just barely hear the empathy in his voice.

“I think you’re forgetting something, [Y/N].” The wide grin that spread over Taeyong’s mouth was enough to make the terrifying dread—that had consumed you once before—come back. In his challenging glare, something else skulked. It meant something, you could tell—and it wasn’t something good. You willed yourself to think back to the actual task at hand after capturing Baekhyun.

The documents.

“Oh. Oh, God,” you murmured, dizziness swamping your being. Jaemin exhaled deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Working with you was exasperating, but it was a change from staring at a too-bright computer screen, in a too-dark room, in a too-boring place—so he would take it.

“Didn’t you say something about a guy—” Jaemin’s ill-defined question penetrated the hushed feeling of the room jaggedly, “—Park, something?” Your eyes gained the small sparkle back, and Jaemin followed you out of Taeyong’s office as you carelessly sped down the hallway.

“Chanyeol’s in on this,” you muttered, to no one in particular, “I just have to find out how.” It hurt Jaemin as he saw you trying to place all the pieces together in you brain. He wondered if you might literally blow a gasket if you worked any harder.

“Are you sure you can handle this.” The teasing was back. “It’s looking a bit rough over there.” With a scowl that could kill a whole nation with just one glance, you glowered at Jaemin. He held his hands up in a fake surrender, waving them like tiny flags. “I was just saying.” The tone of his voice was mocking and it made your nostrils flare. At this point—steam was probably forming from your ears.

“I don’t need you to say,” you retorted, “I need you to do.” Jaemin pursed his lips and frowned. You could tell he didn’t necessarily like your utterance, but he’s been alongside you for long enough now—Jaemin knows not to complain. “Now, go down to Donghyuck and see if he remembers anything from the occurrence.”

The command was velvety and soft coming from your voice that was thick with sadness, but Jaemin complied, not daring to question you. As he disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, you finally let yourself go. You backed into a wall, and sunk into a crouch. If Jaemin saw you like this, the taunting would never end, and it would be no one’s fault but your own. Warm tears trickled down your cheeks and dribbled onto your arms. The thin liquid tormented you as the salt stains became clear on your face. You buried your face in your crossed arms and wailed. At times like these, it was helpful to have soundproof corridors.

“[Y/N], what happened?” Chenle’s innocent inquiry rang out from the other side opposite end, where the entrance to Taeyong’s office was. “Weren’t you just with Jaemin?” When Chenle mentioned Jaemin’s name, your head snapped up from where it was hanging, but you were undoubtedly disappointed. He hadn’t come back with information. It was just Chenle— which made you no happier than you had been a few moments ago.

“It’s Jisung, Chenle.” Although your reply was low and hard to hear, it cracked and broke just the same. Chenle stared at you—his eyes glazing with pity and sorrow. They fragmented your already crushed heart. “He’s gone.”

“Wh-Who would’ve done that?” Even though you had no concrete evidence, you eyed Chenle murderously. The gleam in your eye was venomous enough to kill even the most poisonous snake. He stumbled back a bit—having never seen you like this before. You could practically feel his heart beating like a nervous rabbit’s.

“I think you know who, Chenle,” you snarled, ripping yourself viciously from your place on the brick patterns, “what I need to find out—is why.” Your words were a big indicator for him, and his mouth dropped open.

“Chanyeol?” He asked. Nodding grimly, you began to walk to the computer rooms with Chenle in tow.

“I’ll tell Donghyuck to start tracking as soon as I find him.” Chenle’s declaration was music to your ears, and you faced him, brandishing a wicked smirk. He struggled with himself, trying not to run to his desk, scared out of his mind. Whipping back around, you carried on to where the light of outside met the blackness that dimmed the compound.

“Good.”

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thesethingsofours · 4 years

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Take Your Time

During lockdown, our individual perspectives of time were shaken. If time is subjective, what do we do with it?

Time and space are modes by which we think not conditions in which we live. — Albert Einstein.

The defining feature of work as a commercial lawyer is not the suit, the intellectual discussion, the clients, the office politics, or the sloshing around of money. It’s something they never show in Suits or The Good Fight: the stopwatch. On every lawyer’s computer, a piece of software (unironically named Carpe Diem) provides rolling timers to be clicked on and off when moving from one task to another. Every moment is accounted for.

At the end of each day, the minutes and hours are shovelled into a database, where the lawyer writes a detailed narrative for every block of time. The information is then used to build an accurate bill for the clients and to assess how hard each lawyer is working. In an industry where work is charged for by the hour, every minute has an exact, predetermined value; both financially, and how each lawyer is viewed as an employee. Time is quite literally money.

As a lawyer, sometimes, I wished the clock would speed up, desperate for my hours to increase towards my monthly billing target. On other occasions, it whizzed past unstoppably as I strained to meet an imminent deadline or demonstrate my efficiency. Time was rarely a neutral experience. Recording every minute of every day for analysis by my superiors made me extremely sensitive to how I perceived time. Maintaining a balanced temporal mindset in these conditions was a battle; a battle against time — the constantly conspicuous overlord I could never overcome.

Until I did. Sick of stopwatches, after four years I left to follow my passions of photography and writing. Now, when I am freely roaming the streets photographing a new city or pressing pen to paper, I typically lose all concern for time. It still requires my consideration — to finish photographing before nightfall, or ensure I still eat at reasonable intervals in the day — but I am no longer forced to attribute an arbitrary numerical value to it, financial or otherwise. I acknowledge it exists but tend not to think about it. In doing so, my levels of day-to-day contentment have dramatically increased.

In the lockdown spring, this sensitivity towards time was laid bare for all of us — how it passes through us in wildly different ways, how we scrabble for a method to gauge it, and the enormous effect it can have on our emotions. But what can we do about it?

I barely know what day it is. — Everyone, 2020

Through every lockdown conversation, the above sentiment became a running joke. Days were long, weeks were short, or vice versa. For some, April went extremely quickly, while for others, it felt like an age. In any case, the unifying feature was a sudden discombobulation in the way we perceived time. Under the pandemic’s grasp, our familiar time-markers disintegrated, replaced by an erratic Covid-clock. Outside of Italy, you may have followed how many weeks behind the boot-shaped island your country was from getting a kicking (“Two weeks ’til we reach 1500 deaths a day”). Perhaps your measurement was a lament of absent activities (“This would have been our third day in Istanbul”; “Next Saturday would have been our wedding day”). Alternatively, you may have watched the kilos emerge around your waist like tree rings as you ate yourself towards comfort.

No matter how you compiled your days, the confines of our own, limited perception mean we construct time on the basis of both the individual — how it feels, and the collective — the metronomic hands of the clock. The clock is physics-driven — an objectively agreed approximation of an extremely strenuous concept, variously comprising of the big bang, Einstein, gravity, the speed of light, black holes, entropy, the multiverse and Back to the Future. This idea of time and its relativity to space is difficult to get one’s head around. Perhaps it’s so difficult because arguably, both spiritually and scientifically, time doesn’t exist at all. Instead, there are only sequential events and tangible atomic changes, which we consciously witness and translate into “time”. In that case, “time” is a primitive form of expression — a language for something we have waived our need to fundamentally understand.

Given the challenge of understanding time on that level, most of us simply live based on Earth’s rotation. Other than for a handful of space-travellers, whose time has theoretically bent and slowed, we experience time only as far as it visibly appears in our day-to-day lives: day turns to night, trees grow and shed leaves, skin loosens from taught to wrinkly (unless you’re Rob Lowe). For this reason, we speak of time in the comprehensible terms of three-dimensional, physical space — “the party is after lunch”; “I’ll be there in 10 minutes”. Even then, language and culture have a meaningful effect on how we perceive that spatial construct. Do you characterise time in terms of volume, like the Spaniards (“a full day”); or distance, like the Swedes (“a long day”); or dispense with the linguistic concept entirely, like the Amazonian Amondawa tribe?

Time as a Feeling

Regardless of our rudimentary attempts to describe time, how it feels remains unique to each of us. Our memories, emotions, habits; body and brain function all play a role in how we perceive it. The feeling of minutes, say, from waiting for a train; hours, from hunger between meals; days, from waking up every morning; months (I daresay) from menstrual cycles; or years, from marking birthdays. In any given moment, a near-innate, biological “pacemaker” and measuring tools honed from our experiences combine to determine how long or short a period of time feels. These sensitive mechanics make our time perception deeply susceptible to external forces:

Time perception, just like vision, is a construction of the brain and is shockingly easy to manipulate experimentally… as subject to illusion as the sense of color is.

Brain Time, David M Egelman, 2009

To this end, it is well understood that when the brain processes a large amount of information in a short period, such as absorbing a new experience or enduring a traumatic event, we later recall time as having passed more slowly. As children, for whom everything is new, a two-week summer holiday feels endless. For adults, such a break can feel achingly short.

That said, these psychological mechanisms are still subject to each individual’s unique personality and circumstances. For example, loneliness has proved to be a significant factor in slowing people’s sense of time during lockdown, while a greater use of digital devices is likely to have sped it up.

In the latter case, technology disrupts our internal pacemaker and increases our stress levels: if you have an hour to complete a task and it feels like 50 minutes, you’re subconsciously pressurising yourself to do things 20% faster. Even without the ubiquity of digital clocks in the corner of every eye, it stands to reason that our Pavlovian response to bombardment by notifications changes how we digest time. And that’s before you consider how much we outsource memory (a crucial aspect of time perception) to our phones, without understanding the cognitive consequences.

Between Zoom calls, smartphone scrolling, working on a laptop, binging Netflix, repetitive tasks, adaptation to new circumstances and unusual social occurrences, any given lockdown day was liable to speed up or slow down by the hour; further assembling into weeks, which would slip through our fingers or linger indefinitely. Disorientating, yes, but also a valuable reminder that our perception of time is subjective, and therefore something we have a degree of control over.

Take Your Time

While compliance with the clock helps us interact with others and make a living, we should be wary of allowing it too great an influence over how we enjoy or endure our experiences. Frustration from waiting, pressure from deadlines, habitually arriving late or early — all these arise from the way we process time. Finding ways to free yourself from its yoke can be useful, not only in an uncertain era where another challenging lockdown might be just around the corner, but also as we return to more conventional ways of living. A warped perception of time — whether too fast or slow — has been linked to stress, anxiety and depression. Insulating yourself from a fluctuating perception of time serves towards a consistent mental state.

In practical terms, it helps to do any fulfilling or challenging activity with no incantation of time attached: distance yourself from technology, wander aimlessly outdoors, read from a page rather than a screen, thin out your schedule, study something new, write down your thoughts. When you cannot control your activities, mindfulness has been shown to help. Focussing on the present moment hypothetically minimises stimulation of your internal pacemaker; slowing your sense of time and allowing you to relax into whatever you find yourself doing.

Whatever your circumstances or interests, the key is to take your time, to the fullest extent possible. Take life at your own pace, whatever that might be. Avoid the agitation of scoring life based on time achieved or missed. Wind your own clock and be sensitive to what makes it tick. As an ex-stopwatch jockey, I attest to its benefits.

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#wellness #coronavirus #Mindfulness #health #lifestyle #time

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clash-royale-gems-generator-blog · 5 years

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Get The latest Trick to generate unlimited amount of Clash Royale Gems & Coins & Elixirs

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Hey, what's going on guys Nick at Nite here today and welcome to another clash, royale Vidya, who knows how long it's gon na be? Who knows what's gon na be going on up there in the sky? Do you have any idea? Because I don't know if we do coming off a big stream that we were just doing earlier, you can find those on the second channel Nick at Nite. A link is in the description down below into the am shirts, always 10 % off. I know they got some new spring designs. This is one of my favorite like recent designs. It came out right as like spring was turning or winter is turning to spring. Rather, by let's see what we got, I know we do have the elixir capture mode going on a couple more days, so I may as well dive into that and see what we can get out of it, because I think the rewards are pretty sweet. I already checked in with a shop today and I've already used this goblin giant deck.

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I think to completion. Like I don't know we could. We could potentially use it some more, but I don't really know if how many times in a row it's acceptable to post the same one. You know let's go through here and donate some quakes and then, after all, these of there's like events going on back to back to back to bow so many trades. I assume that's because you get so many in in this, so we got. Let'S see two days. Eight hours four wins reward. You get a Ledge ysou. You get common all the way through legend, then on this one, rare epic leji and then a lumberjack interesting. Why the lumberjack? Ah he likes a lick, sir. I guess that makes sense. So let's do this! Try elixir capture, you can't lose out, look at the brawl stars in the bottom right, it's a little easter egg whenever the map zooms out or in in the beginning or the end alright. So I haven't played elixir capture since the sneak peak videos that we did. We could just start a casual, a lumberjack there. I saw someone tweet one that was like a goblin barrel, mirror it seemed a little ludecke. Oh man, I wasn't even ready for the bonus elixir their mega minion on this balloon and it's still gon na get a hit Wow. I was better at stopping balloons with the Sparky deck all right, we've got giant here. So, let's slap a golem right in front of it and call it call it a party make a minion going in four digits over there on that right lane we got poison over here, left flame gon na be swapping that out - and here comes the next ball Of juice got juicy lanes juicy lanes. What'S the address for the GPS, one juicy lane so many bats on that Tower, the log is not gon na do anything. Gollum still takes it, bats go in for the clean sweep and the golem almost actually a will make it there for the death damage, Wow baby dragon going down the mid. Let'S just start stacking this Lane, I'm not really they're playing kind of slow and sort of like like off in a way, but we'll take it right. Yeah. The answer is yeah, so much roll just through there. Oh wow, that's weird guess: Mega minion. Now, that's one way to do it. This a whiz huh. I don't think that's gon na be the ticket chief, but it is the warm-up mode. So this isn't really the competitive one. I don't know if the other one is I assumed it would be since there's just like regular rewards on the line I assumed it would be gems to continue, but I didn't look at the details of it. We'Ll see you in a second um, let's see you're. Actually gon na go for this they're actually going for barrel, he's gon na get that extra elixir right here as well. They get the bonus elixir. The two in the middle balloons on the tower baby dragon trying to deal with all these skeletons I'll, just slap a golem down right in the mid that which actually just got another bonus elixir night, which over here snag that elixir and then I'll Jack. It'S like they woke up with a minute left and then I go wait. I should try they worse news fasting in the beginning, so that's gon na be chalked up to a nice first start to the video. I know we've been winning too much in the beginning of episodes lately, but I brought it up to corporate and we're talking about it. You know it might, it might be an implemented change that we stick with. It may not haha one common going for the next bah bah bah dah dah. Oh. If so, if a tech beats me, I will consider using it. I guess is that even worth I don't know wizard right on the thing, interesting placement so like the we just does that all cancel out, then, are you gon na back up that wizard or oh yeah, Ickes you're gon na go like that huh I'll Jack, quicker Than Sparkie quicker than lightning able to drop Sparkie who's gon na get that bridge elixir cuz, both dragons are sort of just chill in there. I guess we're gon na win that one yeah bonus night, which Oh giant though, but we got bats bats, add up quick. That'S interesting to see a giant versa tonight which, as soon as she gets bats, the night which is more DPS but initially the giant is so that's just food for thought. You could take it, you could leave it, you could leave it on the curb. I don't know as long as it does not come home with you without a cork in it. Why not sure? Let'S go poison, I mean I this. This mode is a little more elixir heavy.

Then then, in the regular mode you still like the regulation and then no tea and all that in the final minute, double elixir. But you could potentially I could probably go with a lightning golem deck over poison. Just because you are gon na be getting a little bit beefier of pushes with this bonus, I want to see, like the craziest thing, that someone came up with of how to play this. I haven't watched any videos or anything on it, so we're just feeling it out right now and seeing if anything comes natural to us, we'll see when we get to the actual challenge, how things unfold, but as of right now they look. Okay, he was gon na be trying to hold down the fort right there. We got some bats and they be dragging continual King pressure. It'S a medical condition, folks, throw a golem down for this beam about to be rebuilt should be perfect timing. Al Jack. Are you nice he'll deal with the wizard and then we got? Oh, No, the bats win it folks, the bats have won, delete your Twitter accounts because the bats are here. He'S gon na not go with the inferno tower again we're deck. He was regular. Wiz Inferno tower Sparkie giant. I was using Sparky, so I'm okay with the Sparky portion of this deck, the rest doesn't make as much sense. Let'S get up making a minion on this storage, al Jack for some added juice on this Lane, just one but a every elixir counts, and if we're not accounting, elixir, then or not a la la our legs. Are you know, that's what I always say to the toddlers? Oh fun fact. No, that's so fun, actually night shakers are actually sold out on G feel calm until further notice. Unless you're watching this video in the distant future then still check, but just thought, I would say it because we figured that out on the stream today they were nowhere to be found because you guys bought them all by golly. We need a restock restock reach up. Everybody got one got that shake shake up up: L Jack pulling ahead, but in the second half we pull it out. Wow nice little Goblin barrel. I guess night which up against insurmountable odds, will go with the golem here with its ice whiz and then a bar barrel for the gobs. That'S gon na drop that nicely barbarian has like the floor to himself no other speakers present, and then we get this next vat of elixir in the center nice. What do we want to do with all that juice bar kit in the back whoa? We just stole it from the bridge there that was nice. That was nifty. You got the giant coming in probably okay Goblin barrel as well. Valkyrie ice wizard tough to push through, but I mean I've got a lot of so I put it here. Do I get that one nice fireball? We should be rebuilding the center yeah right around now I'll Jack down boom right back at it and right on that storage. I wish I had enough time to put the Golem to block him, so I mean I guess, with the two that you get you sort of could, but it's sorta same time. It sort of feels like you can't Knight, which, in the back that was a shallow barrel, okay, okay, Goblin barrel giant, I mean until double elixir time that Dec has the advantage here, but we're just playing an aggressive goal and play style and it seems to be Working all right is that night, which gon na come back l Jack. What are you gon na? Do al Jack's gon na come back for the storage baby we've been. I think we won every one, every one of the mid, the mid, the middle fights. What do we want to call those the duel off so and that's a stupid name, alright, baby dragon knight which over there in that lame just dumping troops? Deep, is all we're doing right now, folks to Lumberjacks, go to that king tower mega minion as well. That'S like a nice minyan poison, going in your game II. Look it's like took shook look book, but its mitts, just nook yeah right. That'S the big say it is until this. This say it is, and then it's till it is it and you're like tea, cow, Canadian monkeys with the Z yeah, but the smile on your face like a rascal back in place, yeah like an old school like an 82. That'S what I did that's what I do nah get that poison out. No doubt slapping it --, which, on that Lane say, I won't say I will, and I did yeah yeah oh gee is lit yeah that jack on that time. What'S a towel yeah back I'll! Do tea, Wow, well Jack just took that tower to pound Ville. Oh nice Inferno tower that's gon na be actually really annoying. I wonder if I should bust out a lightning with this deck in the in the the official one. We didn't really need this baby dragon, but I what's a buzz: what's a vis baby dragon barber, just kind of countering it out, we could already poison that tower. Basically, down baby dragon dealing with a furnace situation grab an eye twitch pop around down. I get those bats out here: yeah man, that is some gnarly DPS, and we win that one and now the inferno towers, gon na get swarmed, and you just wasted your inferno. Cuz, I have a golem, I haven't shown it yet, but I assumed you would figure that out with the rest of the deck preceding it. But if not here it is missed at sea cow, golem, trudging down that right, lane super tremendously valiant honor and more the crown bestow, the crown bestow yeah. I don't know that was just like a graphic novel in a way. Oh we're pushing it now. Golem barbarian poison on this Inferno. You bet you bet, golem goes down, but it's fine mega minion gets fireball, but it's fine. We'Ve got another one, we're already back to it our barrel deep and this one's looking. Oh so steep the mountaintop lives the mountaintop lives.

These are like all really good quotes out of context if they all actually were quotes. They'D be epic wow, that's a chunk, a game. Alright, we're warmed up. That'S a good way to warm up just Clash Royale Gem Generator make you feel on top of the world. Alright. Legendary token. Nice join for free, is it three losses and you're out buying in resets from where you are oh cool sweet? Well, let's go in I'm just gon na go and use all these just give our clan or whatever they want. Here you are that sure honey alleges. What'S the last token, I have oh, I have a rare, oh wait. All right, master, elixir capture - hmm, I was gon na put lightning in, let's see if it still feels like we should all right I'll Jack. What do you got? You got to outpace this wizard nice, you did it. You did a thing I'll jack on our tower, not the best start. I'Ve seen worse. It'S just Barbera over here, hmm, not ideal. Let'S drop a poison down that which is pretty injured wow. They got that bonus. One weight hog: oh, I was worried. The hog was gon na turn around. It did not did not do that, but the bats gon na go nice bats. I think I'm still gon na I'll Jack this, because that wizard will walk up to the plate and just take that thing for a ride. Alright wizard, you stay we're banking, the elixir, it's weird to be ready for it as an in addition to the regularly generating elixir. It'S like a lot of elixir to be ready for at any given moment. I don't really. I don't have a good cycle down for this. The bar barrel seems weird, and it does it's weird, that it doesn't trigger it when it goes over as a barrel, it has to go over as a barb. I guess sort of makes sense, but still don't like it. Baby dragon knight, which all graders gon na be coming on over, which will be weak and hog, is down nice. It'S tough to like yeah, be able to use all that elixir at a moment's notice. Like, oh by the way, here's like plus 2 and then plus 1, you just generated one like where you gon na put it son. Oh, my god, alright barb barrel for that wizard in the back Lumberjacks cancel out night, which huo's feeling like it was about to rebuild. It will was that log gon na push our night which - and we could drop a golem here - actually not that good they're gon na win that one, but we get the poison value of the century behind it on the barbs and now that hog is very much So, stuck on a golem he's playing a heart straight into a golem which, like normally you would never do like you'd literally, do the exact opposite of that normally throw the poison in good measure. We got those raged, baby D and megohm ending up top baby D. Could take this one all the way home dragon all that was close, all right, 606, honey huh, I know he's got the fireball. We got to stop it. Stop whoo. That was very much so close Barb's there to chunk down our golem, but we are gon na. Be able to throw that poison down and goal of mites good game. So it's like I'm not really playing it any different than if it was an elixir capture outside of like the occasional deploying a lumberjack in the middle kind of thing. But I mean those could very well just have been at the bridge, it's sort of weird al' check. Can you beat that it's kind of a fast, it's kind of a heavy hitting that's weird? What the L Jack? What chaos ensues? Barb Errol! Then we get all this going on. Is that bandit gon na make it think so golem alright night, which chill chill chill baby dragon, drops our night which predictable it's got a Dark Prince baby dragon deck here with the D G dark goblin, starting to chunk down that elixir, but nope lumberjack is gon Na win that one out and then we got a deal with a lot of stuff at the lane, so let's just poison this. Hopefully it actually takes the dark, alban. Okay, barely dark goblin would have got a shot on the tower. Actually, that was a little bit late. We get another pump in the mid, maybe maybe not it's every 30 seconds. I think after it expires. Let'S just bring this hog over here first and then, knight which this is. Who is actually going for that elixir storage as well tonight which, over on that side, let's go with like medium sized units only until double elixir, then we drop golem down and then we go full pound.

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Alright, we're gon na win that exchange nice I'll Jack mmm did I hit that barely barely barely barely barely barely barely about a dream night, which first golem build it build the push I'll Jack in the back. Whew poison goes in everyone get in here on the golem that dark alban just looked death in the face and went today. Alright, that's gon na be a massive tower down. Let'S just throw to air units just four more and it is very greedy to be pushing for three crown right there. So, let's just get ready for a hog. There comes nice, good game. Good luck as well! Here'S a carrot first to have been pretty swell yeah, not like blowouts by any means, not super easy, but at the same time not super hard Big Daddy from the Dutch masters. Okay, okay, baby dragon. On those bats, it's hard to tell sort of worth. Oh [, Music, ] unfortunate circumstance there no baby dragon. You got this by chance back up with the Megaman. Hmm, oh, no! That'S bad! Wow! Dudes! That'S good game! All of that work the worst way it could possibly work for us. Just then that was nasty. Wow solid, solid, a solid, controlling lead, these wizards holy cow. This would have to be the comeback of the the eon and not even like century decade, year month, week, ii - micros - I don't know whatever you want to do the Dutch masters they don't mess around. You could just butter a couple hogs on to our King, though that's the problem here, and I can't really stop him that well right, which just bring a golem out Barbera. You got to deal with those archers for us. I mean, I guess, yeah we poison the wizard perfectly-timed on that Pekka. To that Pekka was dead, don't even play with me. Mid-Swing went down by the way nuts barbed arrow going out. We got ta win this one for sure, and we've done it folks. Let'S get this golem down all righty, all righty, all righty, let's throw poison in nice, we clipped the archers and the wizard there. That was the poison that we've needed of the decade, not not that much more than that, though tornado everything right here onto that Tower and also take out the bats in the process. No, that was way too close.

I I let the baby dragon in the night which honestly had it guess not it's, okay. I don't honestly. If we came back from that start, that would have been a miracle that was about as bad as it gets. We played almost every card straight up into it's counter and yeah: hmm, okay, all right, lumberjack, pretty simple start here! Nothing really much gon na be going on. Alright, alright, alright couple clean exchanges as that Inferno tower gon na last, a whole nother one Wow. That'S pretty crazy, almost got to elixir storages with a single Inferno tower world record or anything. I don't know all right. Let'S get this El Jack down on this Ram. Man, you get that Inferno tower out of here when I say get out of here all right, barbarian, nice and Ferno Towers toast he went with the early golem take out the problem with that is generally that you're gon na get all the snowball troops winding up On your tower there it is the raged baby D, us Yas, Yas, all right, all right, Oh Allan, Allan, so love he's always making those games about the Brazilian force. That'S what it means right, be our force, a Brazilian battle, royale ATS. Now that's a tongue twister, not really it's pretty actually normal to say: let's get that poison! Oh, Oh yo, whoa, a mega manana all right down. Everybody know we're going to pound da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da we're just gon na cycle, all the way back to poison part. Two no RAM rider connection. You will not get through mega min L Jack, Oh baby. This is a very meaty medium-sized unit party right now the arrows go flying. We'Ve got two baby DS and a heck of a lot of dps on that Tower.

We'Re not able to get the three, but we're able to put enough pressure on to his counter push not even existing, not in this universe or any other multiverse ba ba da ba ba ba huh. I guess that makes sense every troop that is involved with elixir. I guess is the reward here: take it I'll take note of it bar barrel, ooh I'll Jack, nice boys. This is a speedy, a speedy deck from someone who's just grabbing a lick, sir, and go and I grab and go grab and go one here. Two there. Three, there sure grab it and go. There'S some anti swarm cards all right. I'Ll pretend, like I know, what's going on with this

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