#then i went to kitra

[t34-mt]

outdated pilot design

minimum wage worker in sat'thuckthuck

I don't think I could find an in-world name i can write down since they use chirping and various sounds and their crest to communicate. So ill call them pilots, referring to how they can pilot diesel mechas and other machines.

I think of sat'thuckthuck being stupidly industrialized, with a dieselpunk feel. the surface of the moon is harshly cold for most of the year so pilots have underground shelters. Unfortunately, people with no family, that have a shit job or other circumstances might stay on the surface inside of a mecha for the entire winter. Living inside a mecha is not luxurious, there isn't much place and that space they have might vary on the mecha model.

So this moon is in high contrast with altuyur's non-industrial world, without borders or really any money system that has a prehistory/middle age (north Africa) feel to it. It is quite silly that quadrupedal 8-limbed space corgis have more advanced technology and stuff that looks like what we humans have than the more humanoid bird/dinosaur thing that kyhuines and maanuls are. But I like it that's what i want

about the drawing, id imagine this worker operating something close to a crane or just anything harvesting minerals since i also imagine the place they're in to be a mine. They're wearing gas masks on the face because their workplace isn't filtered correctly, and the mineral harvesting outside can release toxic gas.

each line in the red area are like nostrils, they inhale from there and exhale from that stomach nostril. Animals of altuyur have single pair of nostrils which is usually on their chest, while animals of sat'thuckthuck have head nostrils to get the air in and stomach one to get it out.

also if the hand is different from last pilot drawing its cause I'm still figuring out which type of hand ill like better and i think i like the one from previous drawing move honestly.

[crystalelemental]

Okay, for real this time. Unicorn Overlord defeated. There was a bonus chapter. It legitimately feels like a victory lap where every fight was pretty easy to beat. We got Alain's team to level 50. No one else, but like. A lot came close. Anyway! Now that it's definitely 100% over, I wanted to record the teams I used, with some comments on how they did.

Alain/Melisandre, Scarlett/Rosalinde/Nina The ace team. Nina is absurdly strong, Melisandre is a great dodge tank, especially backed by Alain's constant defensive coverage. Alain feels excellent for defense, if crap on offense. He's an excellent general guardian and leader, given the boosted Valor gain and cav movement. Melisandre is wonderful, but I do have to admit, the way I used her she was more an evade tank with incidental offense, rarely getting much out of Meteor Strike but being able to immediately destroy high evasion Scouts. Scarlett's excellent because Innocent Ray removes debuffs from the entire enemy team. Rosalinde did alright, I don't consider her damage output to be peak, but she's definitely great at offense once she gets Elemental Impetus. Nina's hilarious. Sapphire Pentant + Enrage into Assaulting Blow to regain AP every KO. Phenomenal work, girl.

Virginia/Fran, Kitra/Leah/Miriam This team was structured because Knights of the Rose with the descendant and her wife, Leah. The team was always pretty damn strong, though occasionally they'd meet something that would push their entire shit in. I couldn't really tell you why. Fran focused on direct offense rather than Fatal Dive, so great on cavs but otherwise alright. Kitra is Nina again. Leah aimed more for offense, but to be direct, I think she's outright worse off than Melisandre. Evade tanking with Swordmasters doesn't go so well long-term, and offensively, Meteor Strike leaves a lot to be desired, being 2AP and easily Guarded by heavy shields. Their high Initiative works against them, as armors are almost always able to jump in. I have some ideas for Playthrough 2 to test getting them more offensively motivated, but we'll see how it goes. Miriam as a holy knight feels...fine. I admit, I don't think too highly of Holy Knight, I like the magic negation but on a rounded tank like Virginia, it's unnecessary.

Railanor/Ithilion, Eltolinde/Gammel/Galadmir Eltolinde team. Eltolinde herself is very comparable to Rosalinde, having the Elemental Impetus into heavy offense, so I like her setup a lot. I opted for both Fencers due to their regaining 1AP on a successful dodge, and paired them with Gammel, who can spread Blind to a whole row. Galadmir is just some extra damage output and potential freeze to slow down the enemy offensive, because this team is ridiculously frail.

Celeste/Liza/Yunifi, Tatiana/Lhinalagos Second only to Alain. Celeste went for Fatal Dive, which came together excellently once we acquire the Ervelda's Talisman. Column-wide true damage that can't be guarded, uses unique items that most others have significantly less use for, she's great. Liza was excellent the moment she dropped, Sharpshooter might be my favorite underrated class. High shielding, healing, solid damage output; like her stuff a lot. Yunifi was high-risk high-reward. Counterattack focused, hitting three enemies for full damage whenever she dodges or takes a hit. Tatiana had the staff to grant Overheal, pushing Celeste's damage even higher up. Lhinalagos was nice magical damage, and had Ice Arrow to set up a powerful Yunifi follow-up.

Ochlys/Fodoquia/Raenys, Sharon/Auch Ochlys' life is funny. Comes in amazing as a pre-promote, falls off around mid-game when her stats and extra AP/PP aren't as impressive anymore, then comes back doing pretty alright by endgame. I don't think she's excellent, but I like her. Raenys is ridiculous. Her ability to just shred enemy PP is staggering. Fodoquia is all nonsense, outright reflecting magic back at opponents. Sharon is the healer because come on, while Auch...kinda showed up on this team early game to easily manage the first Galarius fight, and just never left. He kept being useful.

Hodrick/Monica, Chloe/Ridiel/Berenice Hodrick and Monica are fantastic. Heavy shield defense, and the ability to negate an entire magical attack thrown at his whopping 1 Mag Def. Chloe showed up on this team early, thanks to her ability to heal Hodrick and keep him tanking early game, and just never left. Ridiel was added for magic damage and because Chloe/Ridiel is good, while Berenice is the persistent physical offense with...I can't remember the name of the skill, but similar to Nina is gives +1AP on a KO.

Hilda/Jerome/Lex, Yahna/Primm A little slapped together, but it works. Hilda has Fire Breath supplemented by an Ice and Freeze effect from Yahna, inflicting two good status conditions on a row. Yahna herself casts Trinity Rain, and Primm has Quick Impetus to get her firing immediately. Lex specifically prevents Hilda from getting bopped by anything, and has the shield that grants max initiate for whoever he's covering, which is usually Hilda or Yahna. Jerome's around. I can't really say much about him, he's fine.

Clive/Adel/Renault, Gilbert/Aramis Cav Charge. Clive, Adel, and Renault all have Cavalry Call as a stackable buff, and then just blitz enemy columns, or regain AP constantly with their variation on what Nina does. Gilbert is excellent for applying Initiative for the team, and then even more attack boosting. Aramis was chosen because I was doing rapport stuff with Gilbert, but if I were to make a switch, it would be to Sanatio. I think the cavs, rather uniquely, would love the Endure effect. They're a hit and miss kind of comp, where the miss usually means the entire front row getting decimated. Sanatio would easily prevent them from taking all that much, thanks to the block to an clean KO.

Berengeria/Gloucester/Travis, Mandrin/Selvie This team never took off. I blame that partially on mobility, resulting in their level falling behind the curve and just never catching up. The rest is that I think some of these components are a problem. Berengeria herself is excellent, but really wants the opponent to have some kind of detrimental condition. Travis was set to be that condition, with row-wide Blind. Gloucester can also Burn a whole row and has good offensive pressure. The problem is really in the back row. Mandrin offered nothing of particular interest to the team, just kind of existing, while Selvie can debuff but isn't really doing anything novel. Like, Travis doing his job means the offense debuffs aren't necessary, and Selvie is competing openly with Beregeria for a good on-entry skill. I might split them up next run.

General Impressions You may notice, no Bestrals. That's because by that phase of the game I was super stuck on my current teams and just wanted to progress, stopping only for some favorites and tests that I felt important. As a result...I literally don't know what they do. I intend to fix that on round 2, their actual skills didn't seem too influenced by this whole day/night cycle thing. In particular, Ramona sounds ridiculously good. Flying means evasion, and evasive healers are great, but having one that also supplies good PP control is divine.

I really like how most of these teams came out. There are a few I felt were a bit low-effort, but it wasn't enough to make them detrimental. I'd like to experiment a bit more with alternate combinations, and focus on different strengths. Some major goals are: making Meteor Strike Melisandre a damage focus of a team (the plan is Aubin's War Horn), testing out Bestrals generally, actually playing with more staff effects, and getting a team that actually uses Selvie that I'm happy with. I like debuffs! I should like this class, but everywhere I put her I just felt it wasn't that great! I don't know what happened, I know they can be devastating, I've faced them!

I'll be picking up Round 2 shortly. Want to catch up on Dungeon Meshi and Frieren with my wife, but will likely start a new playthrough tomorrow morning. I might try a harder difficulty. Normal was fairly simple to clear, and I don't really know what changes with difficulty selection, but it might put a bit more pressure on my comps. I'd at least like to try.

[princessofgayskull]

🌻

[croy-on-a-working-vacation]

Croyalists, check this out!!!!! In Ordinary Adventures’ new vlog, Peter and Kitra went exploring Galaxy’s Edge West and found the first FO officer who had something nice to say about Croy 😆🥲

I had to capture this momentous occasion. Also umm apologies if I spelled Lieutenant Tesk’s name wrong. I’m just playing it by ear and that’s the way I heard it 😬

Side note: is anyone else a little jealous that GE West gets all the new stuff? Yes, we have the Halcyon, but Docking Day 7’s menu never seems to change over here in GE East.

[kitra-futterman]

Why I am a Christian

This has to do with my testimony but I’ll keep it short.

Growing up I had no friends; In elementary school no one really talked to me and I was called creepy, in middle school I was pushed out of a friend group and when I finally found one that all of us were rejects from other friend groups- we self destructed the next year. In high school I only had real friends in senior year and after school we only talked once. I am use to being alone when it comes to friends.

Little did I know in my home life my family hated me too. All my siblings were pitted against me by my mother because she would constantly compare how ‘perfect’ I was to them. They all resented me- they’ve tried to k*ll me and have attacked me before as my mom watched annoyed. I always thought they were joking, but the more I think back the more I realize probably not (considering two of my siblings literally tried to drown me lol). My mom emotionally and mentally manipulated/abused me in small ways (i.e: Not considering my feelings, hardly keeping her promises, ect). I honestly couldn’t tell you much that she did due to the fact I hardly remember my own childhood (recently learned that that is a sign of trauma oop-). I remember me begging her to thank me for putting away the milk and she told I was stupid for asking for such a thing and she would in small ways tell me how my thoughts, words and feelings didn’t matter. My dad on the other hand was out of my life for at least 65% because he had to go to work.

I never realized how alone I was. I always figured it had to do with my twin dying so I pushed it off because I was told I had high expectations from friends and was trying to fill the hole in my heart from losing her to cancer with other people. Eventually I did find a way to hide away from all the loneliness and lack of self worth I felt. I did it through escapism. When I was young my parents did a great job at teaching us the affects of dr*gs and drinking so I never even thought of those but escapism was something no one could stop me from doing. I would disappear into worlds created by others; Warrior, InkHeart, Xmen, ect. Any story I read I put myself into as the hero who everyone liked. I feel in love and lived with them almost every moment of everyday. Eventually I made my own worlds and lived happily there, sometimes writing them.

I grew up in a Christian home but I truly became a Christian in middle school. I remember my dad really wanted us to play DnD with him but I told him I didn’t like it and he was upset for three days until I apologized to him. (He isn’t that petty anymore) I made a mental sort of promise to make it up to him by getting more into Christianity. I wanted to be able to talk to him about something so Christianity it was. I studied it for years and did actually grow closer to my dad- but it was definitely living through his faith. If he had died I don’t know if I would have been a Christian at all.

At this point my parents had divorced and one of my sisters was actually my best friend. I had learned that my dad and sister actually loved me and they still go out of their way to prove it everyday.

The day I believe I finally decided to be a Christian was the day I asked my dad “Why does it matter Jesus died?”. The day I asked him that he went through such an emotional that I’ve still never seen him express again (he is a rather ‘emotional’ man). He practically screamed at me with tears streaming down his face as if I had stabbed him that “If I didn’t understand the love God had given me (he meant himself and myself), then why are you a Christian?! God has given me (himself) all the love and compassion and kept me alive for this long.” I’ve never seen my father personally upset with me before this, and this is probably the closest I’ve ever gotten to disappointing him. I left that conversation confused and ashamed, and I asked God to show me what my dad meant.

So, now I understand what my father meant. Here is why I am a Christian:

God is always with me. God has never, ever found me annoying in anyway. He genuinely loves me for who I truly am- not who I appear to be to make him happy. Jesus sees how disgusting I am, how I’m a liar, no good piece of trash who deserves to die yet he despite all of that he wants me around. Me, Kitra Futterman. Even though I have nothing to give, even though I am never enough, even though I hate so much- He choose me personally to be alive not only because he thought the world needed a Kitra Futterman but because he specifically wanted a Kitra Futterman in the world and in heaven and New Jerusalem with him. He wants to talk to me and likes how I think. He likes me and respects me and cares for me.

Honestly I could go on forever about this but I’ll stop for now. All I ask is that you think about how this is true for you too, the part about God loving you not the part about the killer siblings and abusive mom, the part that Jesus died for you by name because he said you were enough.

[theo-winterwood]

Downloaded Kitra to try it out on a whim. It’s been years since the very very brief window of time when I was just barely starting to learn to use a tablet, but I scanned in a random piece of lineart I had lying around and decided to give it a go and figure it out as I went. I gotta say, I’m happier with the result than I had expected to be.

Anyway, this is Guðbrandur Hjalmarsson, a halfling barbarian. He was an idea I had for a few days once maybe ten months ago, just long enough to do an unfinished pen outline of a drawing.

[stargazer31]

It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

Chapter 7:

She sat there staring at the computer screen. There he was. Her husband. Jake McKenzie. She scrolled through the pictures he has posted. There were ones of him and Diego and a blue man. There were ones of him and Raj. Him and Sean. There were pictures of him with everyone. Everyone, but her. Why?

She stood and went to the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine for what she was about to do. What did she say to him? Where did she begin? She didn’t remember anything about him other than what Diego told her. He was a pilot when they met on the island. He still was a pilot, though he did it mostly for recreational purposes these days.

She poured as much as she could in the glass before sitting back on the couch. She opened the messenger icon and typed in his name. It said they weren’t friends but it still allowed her to type her message.

Hi

I think we should met. There are a lot of questions and I believe you can answer them. Diego said a lot of things and I find it hard to believe that all of those things happened in that time. I need to understand. I understand that we were handfasted. You have to understand that I don’t remember any of that. I’ll understand if it is too hard for you because I’m not the girl you remember, the girl you go to know on that island. To be honest, I don’t know if I will ever be that girl on the island. Just let me know.

She sent it.

Jake was staring at the television absently. She had disappeared from his life, from his dreams. He had tried to recall her but her last words kept haunting him. She was waiting for him to find her. But he had tried. He frequented the last place he saw her. And waited, hoping that she would pass him by. But she never came. 

She was an illusion. He questioned even if she has been in that restaurant and it wasn’t just Vaanu playing a trick on them. But Diego had been certain. He stated he knew it was her. But she didn’t know him.

His computer dinged and he turned to the message. There she was. As plain as day. He read the message and frowned. She wanted to meet. She had questions and she thought he had the answers. But she warned him that she wasn’t the same woman that he had met on the island. She doubted that she would become that woman. He didn’t care. She was there and she was reaching out.

He pulled the laptop into his lap and though about what to say.

Hi.

I’m open to meeting. I figure that most of your questions are about what happened on that island. Between us. And during the handfasting ceremony. I can answer those. I can try to answer anything else you may have. I don’t know what more to do. As far as you being that girl I met on the island, I’m pretty sure she’s still there.

Kitra chuckled. She typed back,

There is a bar on 9th. An underground place that seems to be your type of place. I’ll be there Friday at 9.

Jake smiled. 

Tell me something, Princess. If you don’t know me, how can you be so sure that this would be my type of place? See, she’s in there somewhere. I’ll be there.

Friday

She stood at her closet staring at all the clothes hanging there. Somehow none of them seemed to fit the moment. She wanted to impress him without looking like she was trying too hard. She couldn’t do a dress. That definitely would look like she was trying too hard. She grabbed a pair of jeans and hunted around for a shirt. 

Her dark blue jeans were ripped in all the right spots, exposing just the right amount of thigh. Her red tank draped low on her hips. She slipped on a black blazer and looked around for her shoes. She grabbed a pair of black heeled boots. From what she remembered of seeing Jake in the restaurant, he was far taller than her.

She walked outside and hailed a taxi. It was time to get to know her husband. 

Jake stood outside the bar. He had arrived early, hoping that he got there before her. He looked around, finding her exiting a taxi. She looked up and saw him . She smiled, a welcoming smile. One he remembered. He returned it with own lopsided grin. He raked a had through his hair and took a deep breath. She stopped in front of him and extended her hand.

“Jake McKenzie, I’m Kitra Romero. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And Jake is just fine. Because I’m going to call you Kit. I prefer Princess. But ---”

“You called me Princess?”

It was familiar to hear. She didn’t know why. But it was a comfort to her. She realized he was speaking and said, “I’m sorry. I was having a sort of flashback. A sense of deja vu.”

He perked up. “Did you remember something?”

“Not exactly. Let’s go get that drink.”

[senatushq]

NAME. Kitra “Kit” Yohanan AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25  & November 5th, 1996 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Witch COVEN. Unaffiliated OCCUPATION. Museum Artifact Restoration Technician FACE CLAIM. Zoey Deutch

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: holocaust, death, blood ) Manhattan, 1996

She came into the world quiet, as all the infants in her family had. Until her grandmother (Bubbe) placed the shem in her mouth, let the sugar paper dissolve, and the start of her cries could be heard all the way down the block. This was how golem’s came to life, a paper with the name of God set upon their clay tongue. The Yohanan’s were not constructs, the birth ritual was simply that, a ritual. It is said that Adam himself was a golem, shaped from dust by the hand of God. Kissed to life, passion and love giving him the gift of flesh. The Yohanan’s did not believe in God per say, but they believed in passion and in ritual, in history and in love. 

Witchcraft ran in their family’s blood like ice water. Cold and strong and straight to the bone. Her mother led their coven on the Lower East Side with a strong, powerful fist. They were militant, intent on developing new magics and better secret keeping techniques. Her mother was less concerned with the history and tradition of the Yohanan magic, she wanted to move forward, forget their past. It was of little use to her. Ma rarely had time for her, in the rare moments she spent with her daughter, Ruth Yohanan tried to impart her future forward views upon Kit. But those moments were few and far between. It was Bubbe who homeschooled her, making sure Kit was equally as informed about regular school subjects as she was witchcraft. Hungry for knowledge, she ate up every piece of information given to her. The craft came intuitively to Kit. She became particularly adept in the restoration school of magic, learning to restore old spell books and ease the pain in her Bubbe’s joints. 

She had her books, she had friends in the pigeons that roosted on their balcony, but Kit’s childhood was lonely. Her mother rarely spoke to her, there were few children her age in the coven, and she had not quite learned how to make friends. Her grandmother was her only friend. When Kit was old enough her grandmother led her to the basement of their apartment building, ushered her into what appeared to be a broom closet, and showed Kit the research she had been collecting. 

Her Bubbe had fled Italy with her family when Germany came and occupied Rome during the second World War. She was thirteen years old. Her family came to New York City with the clothes on their back and the suitcases of spell books they’d managed to carry with them. Kit’s grandmother had been young then, but she remembered her life in Italy well. Remembered how the roots of her Jewish heritage, her Jewish magic, went deep down into the soil. Rome’s Jewish community is the oldest in Europe. 

Bubbe told Kit stories of the catacombs beneath the great city, where their ancestors buried their dead, of the great synagogue in the Jewish quarter, of community and magic and history. There were books in the broom closet. Stacks on stacks, scrolls placed neatly in piles. Bubbe told her this, “Your Ma is interested only in the new ways of spellcraft, a way to move forward quickly. I believe we must look to the past to do so. So much of our history, our power, is lost to us if we do not listen to those who came before us.” Kit’s grandmother meant to find a way to summon and learn ancient magic from the spirits of their ancestors.

Her grandmother was her whole world. She was the one who taught Kit how to summon her bird friends, how to ride a bike, how to make soup that would cure the flu, how to patch her jeans, how to, theoretically, summon a man from the dead. A larger than life woman, Keziah Yohanan was short and round, with sharp brown eyes and a mass of silver curls. Her accented voice filled every room, and her laughter reached God himself. Her death tore the world apart. Kit was eighteen when her Bubbe passed. It was sudden, a stroke. Strange that something as simple as a blood clot could end a soul so big and bright.

Grief is a funny thing. It makes you wild, stupid, angry, impulsive. Yet, in the moment, all Kit felt was calm. Alone in the broom cupboard, she stared down at her grandmother’s notes and connected the pieces. Two weeks after Bubbe’s death, Kit stood over her grave. Her grandmother’s body had been washed by Kit and her mother, shrouded in white, watched over, and finally laid to rest. After observing shiva, the mourning period, Kit went to the gravesite, spellbook in hand, and drew letters of the Hebrew alphabet in her own blood on the gravestone. Palms dripping red, she cried. Begged a God she didn’t quite believe in to let her see Bubbe’s face one last time. From the pools of crimson, a shimmering visage appeared. Short and round, sharp eyes and a mass of curls. The spirit said nothing. The shimmer of Keziah cupped Kit’s face gently, hands ice cold, and faded into the night. Kit screamed.

Her mother found out about what she had done, any competent witch could have sensed the aura of necromancy emmenating off Kit. Ma was furious. Their coven explicitly banned dealing with the dead in any sort of capacity. Kit was cast out, banned from the city, the only home she had ever known. 

Her grandmother still had connections in Italy, which was how she ended up spending two years at a bookshop in Venice, using her restoration skills to repair old books sought after by collectors. Kit continued her grandmother’s research, looking into ways to contact spirits of dead witches. She spent four years roaming Northern Italy, collecting research and gaining a reputation for her skill in historical art restoration. She made friends but never kept them, unpracticed in the art of friendship. She had relationships but never serious, too scared to commit to something real. She developed a hard exterior, so different from the fun loving kid she had been back home. She ended up in Rome eventually, drawn to it by the stories her grandmother had told, intrigued by the thought of speaking to other supernatural creatures with access to knowledge of the dead. She would secure her birthright, the knowledge of her ancestors, a new way forward, hand in hand with the past. Something real to believe in.

PERSONALITY

+ hardworking, idealistic, vivacious – abrasive, distracted, single-minded

PLAYED BY VIA. EST. They/Them.

[rosiecooperproject4]

DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHERS

SIMON HAYTER 

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They achieved this image by making it seem effortless and the man is looking directly into the camera. They exposed the image a lot to maybe give it a more joyful atmosphere.

What is being documented?

This photography is about the Independence of Cuba and how there is no trade between America and Cuba, this means that it stops the development of the country and it has no new products made by other countries.  

What is the context of the image?

The undeveloped Cuba however they are still living well in a country which doesn't need mass trade to thrive.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

With the man looking straight into the camera I believe the image becomes a lot more personal because it shows almost the strength of the man, I feel this portrays the strength of the country.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

The picture makes me feel incredible gratitude to Cuba because it shows that it can still live without the modernisation of most countries.

ARTHUR LUMEN

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They simple took the photo of this which has been cracked through the centre of the room which perfectly aligns with the image of the woman.

What is being documented?

This image shows the damage of the landslides in Armenia and how it can bring pain but also show beauty and luck when disasters like these happen. It also shows the destruction it can make but also how people have learned to deal with them.

What is the context of the image?

The caption of this image is ‘Starting from 1985 the landslides started in this village named Voghjaberd. Figaro’s wife in the picture.’ I

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

This image communicates that these homes are being destroyed with sentimental pieces such as the image of the man’s wife which could of easily being affected by the landslide because it is so central with the broken crack in the wall.

How does it make you feeI? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

It makes me feel quite emotional because you don’t know what has happened after the image and whether the landslide affected them anymore after this.

ADAM FERGUSON

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They shot this through a window to make it seem like its been double exposed but in fact it is just the reflection. It makes the image seem a lot more intricate than just the reflection of the window which I appreciate. 

What is being documented?

The caption for the image is “Afghan money changers do business in the Sarai Shahzada Money Market in Kabul, Afghanistan on March 10, 2011. Millions of dollars in different currencies changes hands in the market daily.”

What is the context of the image?

It shows the exchanging of money and it basically explains in the caption what its trying to convey.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

I feel like its trying to communicate the hierarchy of money because there are many different personalities in the image which shows a lot of powerful people and then the complete opposite. Some of the people here are clearly begging and distraught about their experiences.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

The picture is very distressing because there are some men in this picture which seem so non-chalant even though there are people ‘surrendering’ themselves it seems.

MARTIN PARR

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

He just took the picture which would of just happened in the moment because it is documentary photography and it isn't a pre meditated image.

What is being documented?

A man going to the toilet in a very exposed urinal.

What is the context of the image?

The context is that Martin Parr went around Manchester going to many different places and seeing all the diversity in everyday places.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

The image doesn't really show much about what Martin Parr is trying to communicate but I believe that it has a vulnerability to these ‘strong men’ which are seen in the football community.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I feel like the image seems intentional but also random at the same time because this man would of just gone to the toilet not expecting someone to take a picture.

JEAN GAUMY

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

He achieved this image by taking it from a lower angle and putting it into black and white.

What is being documented?

The caption is “IRAN. Tehran. 1986. Veiled women practice shooting on the outskirts of the city.”

What is the context of the image?

I believe that he went to Iran and documented all the war which was happening and him trying to portray it in very vulnerable way however these women seem to be the most powerful personalities in the whole series.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

It’s trying to show the power which women have even though they are told to be covered. In the documentary all the men in the images seem to be begging and shy maybe because it is showing that the war can affect everyone.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

It’s a very powerful image because it shows that everyone can handle a gun and use it well which can be fearful but also empowering to women that were told that they couldn't do things that only men could do.

KITRA CAHANA

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They took it from a high angle which I believe makes the picture seem full of depth.

What is being documented?

The documentary series doesn't have any information about it but I assume that it is about people who are travelling the world and finding anywhere to keep shelter.

What is the context of the image?

There’s a lot of images with people who are dirty and sometimes unhappy but I feel like these people are so happy with their lives because they have nothing to be secure to. This shows the importance of living life.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

In this image it communicates the not knowing of where they're going to sleep at night but also I feel like that isn't what they are worried about because they are living a stress free life.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

The image is intentional I believe because it shows vulnerability.

RICHARD KALVAR

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They used either black and white film or edited it black and white. They made random elements go together in the weirdest way but somehow they all work. 

What is being documented?

The caption for this mage is quite vague in saying ‘ USA. New York. Foot, ice cream popsicle and guitar on West 3rd street. 1970.’

What is the context of the image?

There isn’t any context really but I assume that it all was just in the moment and happened to come out with a non-nonchalant atmosphere about the tragedy which has more than likely happened.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

I believe that the image is of a person which has been seriously injured but no one is really bothered or paying any attention to what has happened and they are just carrying on with their lives. When I think this was made it showed that people weren’t as nosey as society today because when injuries happen everyone wants to know the business of something awful, we thrive of knowing.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I feel like this image is very intentional because he realised that all these things went together in the oddest way possible.

CAROLYN DRAKE

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They simple took the photo of a boy which has fallen asleep in what looks like it could be either a library or work. 

What is being documented?

This documentary is how this remote province was divided in conflict after a riot which separated many villagers. I feel like this boy represents the tired energy from the province.

What is the context of the image?

There is no description for this exact image but it explains for the series the separation from the two kinds of people who lived in this village.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

I feel like its trying to communicate the restlessness of this place because its an ongoing struggle having to have face the conflict which should of never happened. Or maybe this shows the aftermath of the riot and how the whole village were badly affected and now they are exhausted.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

It feels intentional but it some ways its hard to find its relevance within the documentary series however he did say every landscape was different every place he saw. I feel this relates because you don’t see many buildings like this anymore and it was captures in 2009.

FRANCESCO ZIZOLA

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They men are being surrounded by these plants with machetes.

What is being documented?

There is almost no context on this image which I feel then becomes a point of interpreting it any way your imagination lets you.

What is the context of the image?

When I see this image I believe that it could either be that these men are dangerous and seen as a threat where they live or that they are tending to the crops that they are stood in. I think that this is a very good way of capturing an image because it is mysterious.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

Personal. It seems like that one man is staring at you for a purpose almost like an intimidation energy.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

It works so well together because one of the men seem quite timid even though he is holding a big machete. It seems like the front man is the leader and teaching all of these people how to act. 

MIKE BRODIE

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

The photographer would be in the next carriage to these people and got the image of him overlooking into the next carriage.

What is being documented?

I think whats being documented is people finding anyway of free transport  to get around so that they can live and travel.

What is the context of the image?

There is no context of the image but I think that again its about getting around for free with no worries. To counteract that is might also show a lot of worry because nothing is certain in their lives.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

The same as the other questions really.

How does it make you feel? Is it intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

This is 100% intentional because it shows the different subcultures of the world.

[armasims]

Talon went to the Romance festival, then I noticed Truda and Kitra there wearing stuff I know I never gave them. Then Truda changed her outift??? Also to something I never gave her??

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

[jellyfishrowan]

Batch update! 💞First off, went to #comiccon with my #girlfriend because #goals . 📷Guelph with my #film #camera in the #vinyl #record store I found a police #cassette #cassettetape . 💻Recently got 500 of my #businesscards printed. Very thankful for everyone's input! 💲to #commemorate making $500 from #art last year, I made myself a #bracelet ... out of the #money I made! 🔥💦lastly, and the reason I have been so slow to post, I got a full time job at kitras glass in fergus. http://ift.tt/2oatJqG

[stargazer31]

It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

Chapter 6:

Diego entered the restaurant looking around the room. He should recognize her. But in the sea of bodies, she seemingly vanished. Just like before. He looked at Jake and Mike and shrugged. Mike had suggested that it might be a bad idea for all of them to show up. It might confuse her and she would disappear again. But Jake wanted to be there. He had to see her. 

The hostess stepped up. “Can I help you?”

Diego smiled and said, “I’m looking for my friend. Kitra…,” he paused looking at Jake. He added, “Romero.”

“Yes, right this way. Ms. Romero said you would be joining her. Though she only said one person was coming.”

“We were headed to the bar,” Mike said. 

“Oh. Okay. The bar is to your left. It’s first come seating. Right this way, Mr. Soto.”

She led him away from Jake and Mike and towards the tables. There were a couple of booths along the back wall and there she was, pouring over something on her computer. She looked up, her lips turning up at the corner. She stood and threw her arms around Diego, embracing him for the longest. 

“Hola, Kit.”

“Hola, Diego.”

They sat down and she pushed the amaretto sour in front of him. He raised a brow and she shrugged. He took a sip and laughed. “Started early, I see.”

“I started six weeks ago.” She smiled. “You’re tan.”

“Just got back from Miami.” He motioned for the waitress to bring them another round. “It’s a trip I take yearly this time of year.”

“When did you start that?”

“After we got back from La Huerta.”

She sat back and looked away from him. “You said something on the phone about La Huerta. That I did something. I don’t remember the island. I don't remember going. I don’t remember ever leaving the campus apartments.”

“Well you did,” Jake said. The waitress sat the drinks in front of them and gave them menus. “What do you recommend?”

“Whatever gives you the courage to tell me what happened. I recommend the mussels though as an appetizer.” 

Diego smiled and said, “We’ll have that and we’ll need a few more moments for the rest of the menu.”

When the woman was gone, she sighed and said, “Well, what happened on this island?”

“Everything started out smooth until we go closer to the island. We ran into turbulence-”

“Did we wreck and I lost my memory?”

“No. Our pilot, Jake MacKenzie-”

Something turned in her stomach. She whispered his name as if it was important and should mean something to her. “Jake.”

“Yeah. He got us through the turbulence and we made it to the landing strip. Immediately we knew something was off because there was no one from the hotel to greet us. There were no other people on the island. So everyone went off to search. You stayed behind with Jake to take a look at the island from the tower.”

“I went with a complete stranger? To explore an evacuated island? Did he do something to me?”

“No. You two actually became really close. Reallyclose.”

“What? Me and the pilot?”

“Yeah. But that’s later.”

Diego proceeded to tell her as much as he could about their time on the island without giving her too much grief. She stared him incredulously as he weaved this long tale of their time on La Huerta. She casually at the food that was brought to the table until Diego brought up the handfasting ceremony.

“Handfasting? What is that?”

“That’s what the Vaanti referred to as marriage.”

“WAIT?!?! What? I got married? To the pilot? Why would I do that?”

“Because you loved him. You still do. You just don’t remember it.”

“Why?” Why would she rush into a decision of that magnitude with someone she barely knew? Something bloomed in the corner of her mind but she brushed it off. “And Michelle was my maid of honor? Sorority girl Michelle Nguyen? Pre-med Michelle Nguyen?”

“Yes.”

“And I became friends with Grace Hall, from Bio? And Craig Hsiao, the football player? And Raj Bhandarkar, the kid that high the majority of the time? And Sean Gayle? Current Patriots quarterback Sean Gayle? And Zahra Namazi? The hacker? And Quinn Kelly? The quiet redhead girl from art class?”

“Yes.”

“I became friends with Jake, the pilot. And I married him?” She took a sip of her drink. “How long were we on this island? There is no way that I would have become friends with all of those people. We’re all so different.”

“It’s those differences that make us all friends. Anyway, everyone wants to see you. But Michelle told them that it may be overwhelming to you, to have everyone come at you at once.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember them. I’m not the same person I was on that island. I don’t remember her. I don’t even dream of that place. And I don’t remember having a husband. What would I even say to him? There is no common ground that we can come to. He married a woman who sacrificed herself for the world, so everyone can live. I’m not that person.”

“The Kitra I knew wouldn’t have been this pessimistic. The Kit I knew, the one that I know is still in there, would look at this as a blessing. It’s an opportunity to discover who you are and what you mean to everyone that loves you.”

She thought long and hard. A delicate hand moving up to move her hair. Her brows furrowed and she stared into space. Her eyes darted around the restaurant coming to stop on a pair of ice blue eyes that were staring at her from the bar. They held her attention for what seemed like an eternity. She forced herself to look away.

“The man at the bar,” she asked Diego. “Is that the pilot?”

“Yes. He wanted to come. He had to see you in person. To see if it was really you.”

She looked back at him. Her stomach did a somersault. She blinked and said, “Whisky.”

A vague memory crossed her mind of two whisky glasses clinking in a hotel room with a red and whit theme. There were a couple of knocked over lamps and a end table that was scattered around. But in an instant it was gone. She shook herself and looked at Diego.

“Did you remember something?”

“A hotel room. A canopy bed.  A view of the ocean. And two whisky glasses.”

“That was probably you guys first night together.”

“But the memory was a flash and the flash is gone.”

“You’ll get it back. I’m going to check on Jake. I’ll be right back.”

Diego got up and made his way over to Jake. He shook his head once he stood next to the man. “Sorry, but she doesn't remember you. She almost had a flash but then it was gone just like that.”

Mike nodded. “We knew it was a possibility that she wouldn’t remember. So you know what that means, Grandpa. You have to make her fall in love with you all over again.”

Diego nodded. “Maybe, you’re better off going home. For now,” he added when Jake started to protest. “And I will work on her to agreeing to meet with you.”

Jake sent a longing look at her. “I’m counting on you Pop Culture. I’m not prepared to lose her again. I can’t lose her again.”

Both men stood and walked out the door. He walked back to the table and sat down. He looked at Kit and smiled. “Whenever you’re ready, I think you should meet your husband.”

“How do I know if I would even like him? How do I know if he would even like me?”

“He already loves you. So no need to worry about that. Besides, you two already worked out once. Who says lightning doesn’t strike twice?”

[stargazer31]

It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye

Chapter 1:

He took the worn photo from his wallet, staring at the face of the only woman he had ever loved. It didn’t matter that all of them were in the photo together. He only ever saw her. Every since she sassed her way into his cockpit, his eyes were only ever for her. He turned his face to the heavens. A ray of light beamed back at him. 

“Damn you, Kitra! Why didn’t you ask me to stay? I would have resided in whatever time or space you asked me to. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Talking to yourself again, Grandpa? Or are cursing Kitra again?” Mike slid uo next to him. “You do this every time.”

“We were married three years ago today. And she let it go. Let me go.” He was incensed and dejected at the same time. 

Mike patted him on his back. “She did what she thought was best. She gave us a chance to live productive lives. She gave herself so that we could live. She loved you enough to set you free.”

“I would’ve stayed with her. We could have had eternity together.” 

“Exactly. She knew what you would have done. But she didn’t want to keep you from your family. She knew how much you missed your sister, Becca. She couldn’t keep you from them.”

“Well, now I miss her as much as I did Becca. More so.”

“She knows.” The disc buzzed in his hand. “Our table is ready.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I could use a drink.”

Mike followed him into the restaurant. A pretty blond hostess escorted them to their table next to a window. She tried to get Jake’s attention, flashing smile after smile. But to no avail, the man barely looked anywhere but out the window. He didn’t even glance at the menu when he asked for his whiskey. Mike sighed. He had to do something to get his mind off the woman that haunted his dreams.

“How about we finally go to the island survivor’s meeting? It would do you some good.”

“How would that do me some good?”

“Because they’re your friends. And because we all went through something on that island,” Mike stated. “Grandpa, they’re probably all going through the same things as you are.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Captain America and Maybelline are doing just fine. He plays for the Patriots now. And she is a second year at Boston University.”

“So-”

“Braintrust and Malfoy are living it up in Chicago. They have a son, Reginald.”

“you-”

“Craigslist and Skrillex took the gaming world by storm with a game modeled after the island experience. They are currently living it up in Silicon Valley.”

“have-”

“Pippi Longstocking and Jason Mraz found each other and are currently touring the world. She survived a deadly disease and he hasn’t seen the world change since World War II.”

“been-”

“Lastly, the Taco Ninja opened a very successful restaurant in Miami. Surprisingly, he doesn’t serve tacos. That just leaves the Na’vi and Pop Culture Petey. They’re looking for the island, trying to find a way to get her back.”

“keeping tabs on everyone,” Mike concluded.

Jake sat back and stared out the window. “I know where all of them are. All of them. Except for one. So I don’t need to go to the meeting.”

“Well, I’m going,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He offered, “Come if you want to.”

Jake had stopped listening to his friend, his attention focused on the woman standing across the street. His eyes were deceiving him, of course. It was just because of the day. But he saw her, just as plain as the nose on his face. It was her.

Standing across the street, beneath the swaying the oak, was the woman who promised him forever. The almond-shaped honey brown eyes focused on the crossing sign as shadows from the branches danced across her golden skin. She watched the traffic whip by her with a thoughtful expression.

He wiped his eyes. “Where is our waitress? I could used another drink. Hell, she could definitely leave the bottle.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m seeing ghosts. I could’ve sworn I just saw Kit. The same as I see you. Just my mind playing tricks on me.”

The woman walked past the window and he froze. This woman didn’t just look like her. She walked like Kitra, moved like her. No doubt about it. It was most definitely her. It should have been impossible. It was impossible. But it was her. It was his Kit.

He rose and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Mike grabbed his arm. “It’s not her, Jake. I know how bad you want it to be her. But it’s not.”

“How do you know?” Everything in him was telling him that it was Kitra.

“Think about it. If it was here, why hasn’t she tried to contact you? You’re her husband. You would have been the first person on her list. I hate to tell you this. But it’s not her.”

Jake sat down and palmed his face. He knew Mike was right. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her. He took a deep breath to calm his erratic heartbeat. He tried to think logically, rationally. But it still felt real. She seemed real.

He looked at Mike. “Where is that meeting this year?”

“Miami. Raj is hosting it.” He sat forward. “You want to go?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Maybe seeing her is her way of telling me to go see everyone. To stop being so withdrawn.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to Miami.”