#spring journal kit

[scrapstudioes]

💎💖 EXCLUSIVELY FOR MEMBERS! MEGA KIT APRIL 2025 - SPRING BLOSSOMS PRINTABLE JOURNAL

🌸✨ April's exclusive kit for my Scrappie VIP subscribers is here! “Spring Blossoms” is a printable journal with vintage and spring soul, full of soft flowers, powdery tones and romantic details to fill your projects with beauty and creativity. 💌🌷

Includes 88 elements between illustrated pages, tags, cards, backgrounds and more, all in a delicate palette that combines pink, cream, mint green and soft blue. Perfect for junk journals, scrapbooking, cute cards and whatever your imagination wants to create. 🧁📚✂️

If you're a Scrappie VIP subscriber, you can download it on my Ko-Fi now! 💛✨ If you're not yet, join and receive an exclusive kit every month.

🔗 https://ko-fi.com/s/40b03bede8

📌 Do you like this vintage style? Tell me in the comments how you would wear it. 💬😊

[klutzyghost13]

Bye

New Edit

[spideyhexx]

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[englishluster]

Just need a place to post my August bullet journal pages. I’m by no means an artist but I love these pages and no one else in my life watches the show

[marimuntanya]

[purinfelix]

FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

[cassandraclare]

New publishing announcement!

Hi guys!

I know it’s been a long time since there’s been news about The Wicked Powers. I’ve actually been sitting on information for a long time because I was not allowed to talk about it. It was making me pull out all my hair, so I am super glad to be able to share the following announcement with you: The Wicked Powers is scheduled for publication, and will be published by Walker Books in the UK and Random House in the US.

There’s a bunch more about this announcement, including the announcement of a brand-new YA romantasy series I’ll be doing called In Fire Foretold. That will be published by Pan Macmillan in the UK (same people who published Sword Catcher) and by Random House in the US.

I know there will be a lot of questions about what my schedule is, why things are coming out when they are, whether I have anything coming out next year (Yes, The Ragpicker King, the sequel to Sword Catcher, and also for those who participated in the Kickstarter, those four books) and the overall future of everything Shadowhunter-related. So I will be doing followup announcements to address all that stuff, but first, here are both press release from my publishers in the US and then in the UK with all the info!

GLOBALLY BESTSELLING FANTASY PHENOMENON CASSANDRA CLARE TO PUBLISH  FINAL TRILOGY IN THE ‘SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES’  AND NEW DUOLOGY WITH ALFRED A. KNOPF BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS  First book in THE WICKED POWERS to release in Spring 2026

(New York, NY, April 5, 2024)—Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, will publish five new books from #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Clare, whose novels have sold more than 40 million copies worldwide, been translated into 43 languages, and published in more than 60 countries. The new publications will begin in Spring 2026 with the first book in THE WICKED POWERS trilogy, the sixth and final series in Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy franchise The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Also slated for publication with Knopf is a brand-new YA romantasy duology, IN FIRE FORETOLD. The news was announced today by Melanie Nolan, VP and Publisher, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, who acquired North American rights from Suzie Townsend and Joanna Volpe of New Leaf Literary & Media in a highly competitive auction. Michelle Frey, Senior Executive Editor, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, will edit both series. 

Cassandra Clare mesmerized readers across the globe with the publication of City of Bones (2007), the first book in the Mortal Instruments series, and was quickly dubbed the “New Queen of Fantasy” by the Wall Street Journal. The Mortal Instruments became the basis for the far-reaching Shadowhunter Chronicles, an intricately drawn world that has seen global success and has been adapted into both a feature film and television show. The books follow the Shadowhunters, a secretive race of humans born with angel blood, whose mission is to eliminate the demons that plague the Earth. Knopf’s first publishing collaboration with Clare, THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels. 

IN FIRE FORETOLD is a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set in a new world with entirely new characters. The story centers a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers—the kingdom's princes, born to a cursed royal bloodline. The publication date for IN FIRE FORETOLD, as well as news of additional books to come from Cassandra Clare and Knopf, will be announced. 

Says Cassandra Clare: "I am delighted to have Knopf and Penguin Random House as my publishers for this last trilogy in the Shadowhunters world. They truly understand what it means—both for the story and for my readers—to wrap up such an epic tale that has been told over so many years. I'm also excited to be launching my next YA series — a kickass portal fantasy that contains a ton of things I love, from a bold and reckless heroine to a magical wasteland filled with terrifying monsters that must be fought, to a love triangle with two very unusual cursed princes. I can't wait for us to bring these stories to the world."

Says Michelle Frey: “Cassandra Clare is a beloved author whose work has a massive following for good reason: she sucks you into a fully imagined world and never lets go until the last, satisfying page. I have long admired Cassie and am thrilled to be working with her on both the delectable final trilogy in the Shadowhunter Chronicles and the heart-stopping new love triangle she has dreamed up with IN FIRE FORETOLD.”

Random House Children’s Books (rhcbooks.com) is the world’s largest English-language children’s trade book publisher. Creating books for toddlers through young adult readers, in all formats from board books to activity books to picture books, novels, and nonfiction, the imprints of Random House Children’s Books bring together award-winning authors and illustrators, world-famous franchise characters, and multimillion-copy series. Random House Children’s Books is a division of Penguin Random House LLC.

UK/AUS/NZ:

Walker Books will publish three new books, the final trilogy in Shadowhunter Chronicles, the first coming in Spring 2026.

Separately, First Ink will publish a brand new YA duology, introducing readers to a fantastical new world of Clare’s creation, filled with enticing new characters and heart-racing action. With sales figures for Cassandra’s novels exceeding 40 million copies worldwide, translated into 43 languages and published in more than 60 countries, these are exciting and major acquisitions for both publishing houses.

Walker will launch THE WICKED POWERS in Spring 2026 with the first book in the trilogy, The Last King of Faerie. THE WICKED POWERS is the final instalment of Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy series, Shadowhunter Chronicles.

THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels. The novel marks the beginning of the final trilogy in Clare’s globally beloved series.

Cassandra Clare Says about THE WICKED POWERS: "I’m thrilled to be taking this momentous step in the Shadowhunter chronicles with Walker! They published City of Bones in 2007 and now we will be bringing this huge epic to a close together. With their creativity and dedication, I know they’ll do it justice."

Denise Johnstone Burt says: “We at Walker are immensely proud to have been Cassie’s publishers from the very beginning, when City of Bones launched the Shadowhunters into the world. Since then Cassie has become one of the most beloved writers in YA fantasy all over the world, and with very good reason. Her world-building and character portrayal are absolutely second to none and her books never fail to mesmerise her fans. I am delighted that we will be returning to the world of Shadowhunters once again in THE WICKED POWERS, and know Cassie will bring the Chronicles to a conclusion with her trademark brilliance and consummate style.”

First Ink will publish IN FIRE FORETOLD, a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set to delight all fans of Cassie Clare. UK and Commonwealth rights were acquired by Samantha Smith, Publisher of First Ink and Macmillan Children’s Books’ Fiction, Non Fiction and Picture Book List, from Danny Baror and Heather Baror-Shapiro at Baror International.  The duology will be a super lead title for First Ink and will launch with a significant multi-channel communications campaign including national media, influencer and fan events [HBS1] and multimedia advertising.

IN FIRE FORETOLD sees the launch of a brand new world and set of entirely new characters for Clare. The story centres on a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers - the kingdom's princes - born to a cursed royal bloodline.

Cassandra Clare says about IN FIRE FORETOLD: “I’m so excited to be publishing IN FIRE FORETOLD with First Ink. This story contains so many things I love- it’s a portal fantasy that swings between worlds, where the gritty LA streets exist alongside a dangerous magical world filled with deadly monsters - and a uniquely tough heroine who’s ready to do battle on all sides. Not to mention some gorgeous princes with shady pasts. I know how much Pan Macmillan loves fantasy and how well they publish it so I’m thrilled for this partnership."

Samantha Smith, Publisher at First Ink, says: “Cassandra Clare is a phenomenon author who has delighted and surprised her millions of readers across the world for decades now. As a huge fan of both her YA Mortal Instruments series and latest adult fantasy Sword Catcher, I cannot wait for her to turn her formidable pen to a new, heart-stopping series in In the Fire Foretold and could not be more excited to welcome her onto the First Ink list”

Belinda Ioni Rasmussen, Managing Director at Macmillan Children’s Books, says: “ Welcoming Cassandra Clare to First Ink with a brand new fantasy world is very exciting - both for us and her fans.  Her storytelling is second to none and her new duology on our list is the perfect partner series to her brilliant publishing that sits on our Tor list at Pan Macmillan.”

About Walker Books

Home to books for all ages, Walker Books publishes many award-winning authors, illustrators, and literary franchisesincluding Anthony Horowitz, Angie Thomas, Cassandra Clare, Lucy Cousins, Anthony Browne, Patrick Ness, Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney and Anita Jeram, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury, and Where’s Wally? by Martin Handford. Walker Books is part of the vibrant international Walker Books Group that includes Walker Books Australia; Candlewick Press and Walker Books US in America and Walker Productions.

About Pan Macmillan

At Pan Macmillan we publish a broad and vibrant range of books for audiences of all ages, from dazzling bestsellers to influential prize-winners; books to inspire lifelong readers and listeners to enduring classics for generations to come. The fourth largest UK publisher, we pride ourselves on publishing successfully and sustainably and are committed to working together to positively impact culture and society at large.

[diana-thyme]

Could you please do something on Morana or Bastet if you haven't? Thank you!

Hello! Currently, I'm not doing other pantheons for my 101 series, so it won't be a separate post. But I can definitely give some ideas here!

Morana is a Slavic goddess associated with winter, death, rebirth, the coming of spring, and dreams. Some potential offerings include:

Fruit/Veggies/Other Crops or Foods

Juniper

Sleeping Aids/Medications

Flowers

Eggs and Eggshells

Straw

Dolls

Ribbon

Depictions of Snakes

Some potential devotional acts include:

Playing/Walking/Sitting in the Snow

Swimming or Otherwise Being Near Water

Keeping a Dream Journal

Celebrating the Spring Equinox

Planting/Growing Plants and Crops

Having Fires Going/Starting Fires

Visiting Graveyards

Bastet is an Egyptian goddess associated with protection, pleasure, good health, childbirth, and cats. Some potential offerings include.

Depictions of Cats

First Aid Items/Kits

Cat Fur/Whiskers/Claws

Percussion Instruments or Depictions of Them

Medications

Figurines or Depictions of Lionesses

Depictions of Snakes or Rodents

Depictions of the Sun

Some potential devotional acts include:

Taking Care of Cats

Getting Your Vaccines

Visiting Animal Shelters

Volunteering at Hospitals/Clinics

Helping Parents/Expecting Parents

Babysitting

Catching Stray Cats (if needed)

Helping Strays

I hope this helps!

[jjtheresidentbaby]

i’m so glad other people see nick as a cg + regressor i thought i was the only one

flip nick is so very real to me! and I’m using this ask as an excuse to make a headcanon post lol

Flip Nick Nelson headcanons

tagging: @beachreg

warnings: talk of canon events, mental health issues etc

When Caring:

mainly takes care of Imogen, it was a routine they already had before Nick got with Charlie as they were in the same friend group and even back then Nick was one of the nicer of the bunch

Nick doesn’t talk about his caring side until Imogen is comfortable enough to tell the rest of the group that she regressss

on a few odd occasions Nick watches over Tao when Nick first joins the group and while Tao claims he doesn’t like it at first, he’s totally lying

Nick forms such a soft spot for Tao & the other littles in the group

he likes to talk to Tara about caregiver problems™️ and she’s always there with advice or to just listen for a bit

he’s such a sweet caregiver, always willing to research whatever his little is involved in or struggling with

he puts his all into caring and takes such pride in watching over others

always has snacks, fidget toys, journals, games, books and anything else a little could need on hand

keeps a spare first aid kit in his locker just in case (Tao is very clumsy & Elle isn’t there at school so nicks had to step in at times)

When Little:

Charlie & Elle are his main caregivers but occasionally Tara will watch over him

not super clingy when he’s regressed but he does enjoy getting his hair played with & holding hands

lovesssss to draw & color when small

he’s mesmerized by basically everything Charlie or Elle do, he swears they’re magic or something

massive sweet tooth while small - but he loves fresh vegetables too

he’s more secretive/shy about his little side

he can get very anxious while small and gets into his own head a lot

he has a set journal for when he’s small so he can try and ground himself by writing things out (even if it’s not all spelled correctly)

he’s been trying to befriend Tori since day one of being regressed at the spring household, it’s a slow battle but Tori’s definitely losing

he’ll slip pictures he drew under her door and run off with Charlie to watch from behind the corner as she opens the door and looks around

such an outdoorsy kid & finds any reason to be running around his backyard or taking a trip to the park

him & Tao will film “movies” while they’re both small and they force the whole friend group into preforming parts

somehow worse at drums while small and atrocious on the clarinet per trying Tara’s

of course loves rugby while small but he also likes to have Darcy play volleyball with him like on the beach

superhero movies/books are a must while he’s small!

as much as Charlie complains about it, he indulges Nick and watches the marvel movies with Nick

he somehow gets Darcy & Imogen into them too and they all start to play superhero’s together

him & Imogen don’t regress together a lot as Nick likes to keep his little side & caregiving side pretty separate but when they do it absolutely Chaos with a capital C

can either be super well behaved or pretty mischievous

he offers to egg Ben or Harry’s house at least once a week while small

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

for the prompts - 49 with kit?

thank you anon!! writing some kit x bucky because OF COURSE. they own me PROMPT LIST

49 -> a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

Kit let out a huff, tugging at her fraying laces as she clumsily untied them, kicking the boots off over her heels as they clattered to the floor with a soft thud. After a long day, they felt like an extension of her body, melded to the skin of her feet so that it wasn't until she removed them that the ache began to set in. She collapsed back onto her bed with an audible groan, the mattress springs creaking below her weight.

"That bad, huh?" Sadie chuckled from the next bunk, tugging her shirt up over her head as she changed out of her uniform. They'd arrived back from their mission hours ago, but a successful trip always warranted celebration. Tonight they had shirked the pub, making the most of the summer heat as they carted beer bottles down to the bottom of the field for their own makeshift party.

"If I never have to stand up again it'll be too soon," Kit whined. They were the only boots she owned - battered and softened by years of wear and tear - but after so long, not even that could keep away the ache.

"Say shit like that n' you'll jinx it," Dawn's flat tone echoed from the opposite side of the hut, peering at them over the top of her journal.

Scoffing, Kit began to crawl beneath the sheets, tugging her blanket over her legs. "Yeah, thanks Dawn, but I don't think-"

A heavy knock sounded at the door.

Dawn raised a brow.

Kit narrowed her eyes at her crewmate, continuing to burrow into her pillow. "Someone else can get that."

A voice bellowed from outside. "Kit!"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" She huffed, throwing off the sheets as Dawn grinned, and stomping irritably towards the door. The warm night air fanned her face as she tore the foor open, a frown contorting her entire expression. Bucky was leaning sideways against the frame, one leg crossed slightly over the other, a fresh gash denting his forehead, slight and shallow but still oozing droplets of blood.

"Jesus. Hello?"

"Kit!" Egan exclaimed merrily, stumbling slightly as he pushed himself away from the wall. Ah yes, definitely drunk. "What're you doing here?" He asked, seemingly completely forgetting that he'd called for her by name mere seconds ago.

She blinked.

"I- Doesn't matter. Wait here," Kit ordered, turning on her heel and padding back across the room as she headed to retrieve her shoes, resisting the urge to groan at the prospect of putting them back on. She could feel her crewmates' stares boring into her skull as she sat down, fumbling at her laces in an attempt to tie them as fast as possible.

"You look pretty," Bucky's voice echoed from the doorway. Her shirt was crumpled beyond recognition, hair already sticking up in places from the mere seconds she'd laid down - in Kit's mind, she appeared anything but. Over on the next bed, she heard Yara snort with amusement.

"Shut it, Katz," She scoffed, shaking her head with a smirk as she rose to her feet, returning to where Egan was attempting to cross the threshold. "Alright - turn it around, lover boy."

With a gentle push to the shoulder, she had successfully herded him outside, the door closing with a click behind them as they found themselves suddenly alone. Seizing the opportunity to take a long, calming breath, Kit felt the irritation ebbing away, seeping out of her body as she stared back at him, struggling to keep his balance as he passed his weight between the balls of his feet.

"Shall we - d'you wanna sit down? Sit down," She nodded, a hand on his arm as she located the nearest bench, guiding him towards it. Bucky did nothing but nod along with her instructions, doing as he was bid without objection as his gaze never once left her face, a dozy, lopsided smile creasing his cheek.

"I'm real glad you're here," He nodded as she shifted to sit sideways on the bench, a firm hand pressed against his spine to make up for the lack of a backrest as she tried to prevent him from falling over. "Thought you'd let me in though."

"You thought I'd let you try your luck in my hut? Where my crew sleeps?" Kit chuckled, shaking her hair slightly. "God, if I wasn't sober I might've taken you up it - just not in there."

It didn't feel embarrassing to admit that, not to him. There wasn't an inch of her he hadn't already seen in detail, and they hadn't a speck of shyness between them - although it might have done them some good. She raised a hand to his forehead, gently brushing away a few loose curls to get a better look at the gash piercing his skin.

"What'd you do?"

"Fell off my bike," Bucky admitted with a shrug, beginning to chuckle at himself. Kit let out a snort, throwing her free hand up into the air in frustration.

"John," She laughed. "Do not do that."

"Well I didn't mean to do it-"

"I mean stop riding your bike when you're drunk, honey."

At the nickname, he began to grin, beaming down at her. "Honey?" He repeated, voice little more than a squeak.

"Shut up," Kit shook her head, giving him a slight nudge to the shoulder. "Look, d'you need me to call Cleven? 'Cause I don't know what you came here for except to proposition me, and now you're just embarrassing yourself, so I'm gonna-"

"'M scared," Bucky admitted suddenly, and she noticed his hands clasped in his lap, gripped so tightly his knuckles were turning white. She wasn't used to this - this earnestness that never slipped when they were sober - and usually when one of them was this drunk the other was too.

"'Bout what?" She didn't need to ask. But she didn't know what else to say. Kit reached over, gently worming her fingers into the tiny space between his clasped palms, forcing the pressure to relent just to let her in.

"'Bout what happens if you go down."

Actually... she hadn't expected that.

"I know you're good," He continued. "You're better than most of the fellas, just don't tell 'em I said that. It's just... gonna do a real number on me, I think. It'll fuck me up."

How could she reply to that? What could she say to assure him that she wouldn't crash and burn like so many of the men they'd trained with, when the exact thought kept her up almost every night?

"Nah," Kit shook her head. "Not happenin'. You think I'm gonna let myself die in a plane crash? I'm a way better pilot than that, buddy," Her hand had been hanging somewhat limply in the space between his, but now he squeezed back, both of his palms clutching hers.

"Besides," She shrugged. "If I do crash - which I'll inevitably survive, 'cause I'm just that good - I got it all planned out. The crew can all shoot a gun, and we've established the order in which we'll eat each other once we run outta food."

Bucky let out a snort of laughter. "Where're you plannin' on crashing, huh?"

"Well, yeah, I'm not expecting to actually have to do it... but if I do, Marty's going first."

He hummed. "Makes sense."

"And you'll be glad to know that I'm last on the light, 'cause-"

"Skinny," He nodded.

Kit grinned. "Exactly."

Bucky had begun to chuckle. "You sure you're not drunk, too?"

She laughed. "Less sure than I was."

He was beaming at her again then, looking at her with those eyes she'd only allow because she was confident he wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow. John Egan was a man with little control over his expression - little control over the warmth in his gaze, the softness with which he met her stare. That goddamn look of his would send her crazy, only because she knew, deep down, it could never go anywhere - she could never return it, because that wasn't who she was. Boys had never cared for Kit at school. And then life had gotten dark and scary, and suddenly it didn't matter what boys thought, because she was never going to see them again.

Except this one kept coming back.

She took a deep breath. "I'm gonna go inside, see if I can't rustle up somethin' to put on that head of yours, alright?"

"Cap'n," Bucky nodded, offering a half-assed mock salute as she stood up and headed inside, keeping her gaze fixed on him until the last second to ensure he wasn't about to fall off the bench.

"Angel, honey?" Kit called as she stepped inside. "Would you mind callin' Cleven for me? Let him know Bucky's made it down here."

"Yeah, sure thing," Angel nodded, pausing momentarily as she moved to pass her Lieutenant. "... Is he ok?"

She considered this. "... Eh."

"Right."

After as thorough a rummage as she could manage in only a couple of minutes, Kit managed to retrieve a handful of medical supplies, enough to patch up the bleeding wound on Bucky's head. Emerging back out into the darkness, she headed back towards the bench, faltering as she let out a sigh at the sight before her.

Egan was down on the grass, ankles propped up against the bench, clearly having toppled off the back in a moment of lost balance. He was staring rather peacefully up at the stars, but turned his head to her as she approached, grinning as if seeing her for the first time.

"Kitty-cat!" He exclaimed. "Whatcha doin' all the way out here?"

"Oh my god," She grumbled, putting the supplies down as she bent over to help him up.

"You look nice," Bucky smiled.

"Yep," Kit grunted, pulling him upright but his arms. "You said that one already."

Cleven couldn't arrive soon enough.

[scrapstudioes]

PASTEL EASTER JUNK JOURNAL PAPERS

I created this set with lots and lots of love to celebrate the sweetness of spring and the delicacy of Easter 🎀🐣. It's called Pastel Easter and it's full of soft tones, vintage florals, worn checks and textures that invite you to dream 🌷💌.

Perfect for your junk journals, creative journals, collages or any project that needs a romantic, shabby chic, pastel light-filled touch 🕊️🌼.

📥 Only available to members of my Ko-Fi page. Already a part of it, run and download it! Not yet, it's the perfect time to join my creative community! 💛

🔗 Find it here: https://ko-fi.com/s/38eb6f0559

💛 Thanks for your support, you're awesome 💛

[klutzyghost13]

New Edit

Nick Bi Panic

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[distortedblurs]

──   (  taylor  russell.  24.  agender,  they  /  them.  ) thank  god  you’re  here,  man  -  have  you  seen  KATHERINE  “KIT”  STARLING  anywhere?  i  totally  lost  them  after  their  rendition  of  silver  springs  by  fleetwood  mac  last  night.  no?  they’re  like,  aye  -  high  and  go  to  PALLADIAN  -  i  think  they’re  a  senior  studying  PAINTING?  but  who  knows,  these  days.  all  i  know  is  that  they’re  UNFORTHCOMING,  STAUNCH  and  a  SCORPIO.  last  night  they  kept  going  on  and  on  about  how  they  won  MOST  LIKELY  TO  TRAP  THEIR  SOUL  WITHIN  A  PORTRAIT  last  year,  which  is  cool  and  whatever,  but  i  just  wouldn’t  expect  it  out  of  them,  considering  they’re  so,  like,  COMPULSIVE  AND  METICULOUS,  you  know?  anyways  -  i’m  going  to  check  down  by  the  forum,  i  think  that’s  where  they  like  to  hang.  text  me  if  you  see  them,  okay?  bye!  /  as  penned  by  james,  twenty6,  est,  n/a.

...content warnings for... a suffocating, unsupportive home environment ( emotional abuse ), prescribed drug ( over ) use & anxiety.

student file.

full name — katherine agnes starling.

nickname(s) — kit ( the only acceptable name; will not respond kindly to others ).

place of birth — bristol, united kingdom.

date of birth & age — november 1st, 2000. twenty4.

gender / pronouns — agender, they / them.

sexuality — demi - bisexual.

major — painting.

astrology — scorpio sun, capricorn moon, leo rising.

dormitory — palladio hall; their side of the dormitory is drenched in velvet and gauzy silk. empty canvases of various sizes gather in the corner; works in progress are never seen - their whereabouts a secret. somehow always hazy, even midday. sunlight filters through diy stained glass windows and lavender sandalwood is a prominent scent that lingers.

interests — self  -  rituals;  face  alit  by  twin  candles  as  they  light  a  third  upon  the  altar.  crystals  charging  in  the  moonlight.  beeswax  candles  that  smell  like  herbal  remedies.  journaling  -  it's  supposed  to  be  good  for  them,  supposed  to  help  them.  it  never  does;  a  faux  -  interest,  perhaps.  painting,  above  all  else;  a  swelling  yearn  to  be  better  than  the  best,  to  outdo  and  out  -  prove  others.  all  -  nighters  and  caffeine  pills.  espresso.  cigarettes,  tobacco  mixed  with  mugwort.  belladonna  lilies.  the  way  silver  tarnishes  with  ease.  corsets. running  long  stretches,  between  trees  and  through  fields,  boots  clumsy  beneath  them.

aversions — family  dinners;  too  many  questions,  and  more  unanswered  -  too  much  of  an  unnerving  silence  between  polite  clanks  of  silverware.  their  reflection,  at  times;  failure  is  always  looming  behind  them,  fingers  woven  in  their  curls  and  threatening  to  snap  their  neck  back.  intimate  conversation;  intimacy  with  strangers.  those  who  aren't  part  of  their  so  -  called  "circle"  or  otherwise  few  friends  they  allow  near  and  dear.  other  painters;  comparison  is  the  thief  of  joy,  something kit is already  devoid of.

quirks — the  most  terrible  habit  of  sleepwalking;  a  result  of  hours  kept  awake  -  of  edging  oneself  closer  and  closer  towards  ego  death.  crafts  their  own  paints  from  flora  and  other,  more  questionable  sources;  not  used  in  their  official  school  works.  keeps  a  wardrobe  of  limited  colors;  all  jewel  -  toned,  or  dark  enough  to  rival  the  night  sky.  chips  at  their  nail  polish;  the  only  aspect  of  them  that  is  out  of  place  or  otherwise  imperfect.  is  always  early,  and  always  leaves  first. sleeps minimal hours; whereabouts often unknown.

most played — happy house by siouxsie and the banshees.

notable features — long,  dark  curls  that  cascade  down  to  the  small  of  their  back,  often  clipped  away  from  an  even  darker  gaze;  ever  -  expressive  eyes  that  betray  even  the  smallest  of  emotions,  despite  their  attempt  at  nonchalance.

general disposition — a  rigid  back  and  poised  shoulders  that  are  only  betrayed  in  the  form  of  a  hunch  when  working.  assumed  proud,  prideful  -  will  never  say  different,  despite  how  they  feel.

character study — tashi duncan ( challengers ) & nina sayer ( black swan ).

public record.

life  is  a  competition  the  moment  katherine  agnes  starling  is  born.  fatefully  third,  yet  not  the  fourth  -  their  birth  is  a  guaranteed  sentence  of  mediocrity.  they'll  never  amount  to  the  same  success,  the  same  accomplishments,  as  their  older  siblings  -  and  their  achievements  will  never  be  doted  on,  praised,  like  the  youngest's.  katherine  agnes  starling  is  meant  to  be  average;  the  stepping  stool  that  makes  each  other  starling  feel  proud  of  themselves.  katherine  -  kit,  by  all  those  important  -  only  believes  in  defying  the  odds  when  it  comes  to  knocking  down  their  own  blood's  arrogance.  destined  black  sheep  by  birth  order  -  kit's  always  felt  more  like  a  wolf,  with  sharp  eyes  and  teeth  and  a  stubbornness  that  only  rivals  their  mother's.

they  don't  chase  academics  like  is  expected  of  them;  their  intelligence  isn't  an  issue  -  they  run  laps  around  the  other  schoolchildren  -  but  no  starling  has  been  an  artist  before.  they're  always  doctors,  or  lawyers,  or  politicians,  or  innovators  -  they're  sensible  and  realistic  and  no  -  nonsense.  art  is  nonsense  -  and  kit's  not  a  natural,  not  by  any  means  -  it's  harder  than  maths,  harder  than  science;  but  no  other  starling  has  chosen  it,  and  for  good  reason.  it's  regarded  as  a  joke  at  first;  a  child's  tantrum,  a  short  -  lived  rebellion  that  has  no  place  within  the  walls  of  their  home,  but  will  surely  pass  anyways.  it  doesn't.  kit  is  not  a  natural,  not  by  any  means;  but  days  turn  into  weeks,  which  turn  into  months  -  and  their  progress  is  small,  yet  sure.  they  should  be  proud  -  they  have  the  right  to  it  -  but  it's  not  allowed.  kit's  joy  cannot  exist  in  art.

it's  lonely,  their  childhood  -  and  almost  all  by  their  own  creation.  starlings  do  not  befriend  one  another,  they  do  not  swarm  one  another  like  their  namesake,  do  not  protect  each  other  from  harm.  kit  knows  already  not  to  seek  kinship  amongst  their  siblings,  knows  that  there's  no  room  in  their  nest  for  the  four  of  them.  they  -  sheep,  or  wolf,  or  starling  -  inhabit  dark  corners  and  empty  classrooms  rather  than  social  functions  and  playgrounds.  in  their  nest,  there's  only  room  for  them  and  their  canvas.  everything  else  is  a  distraction.  nothing  else  matters.  not  the  children  who  peer  over  their  shoulder  curiously,  or  the  small  praise  from  their  teachers,  or  the  tired,  disappointed  gaze  of  their  parents.

emotional abuse; kit  starling  isn't  completely  socially  inept;  but  their  voice  is  always  hoarse  from  solitude,  from  days  of  unspeaking.  purple  blossoms  from  beneath  their  eyes,  dark  and  heavy.  as  they  grow  into  themselves  -  their  parents'  looming  criticisms  worsen.  they're  tired  of  this  phase  -  of  paint,  of  the  smell  of  varnish  clinging  to  the  curtains,  of  the  draft  brought  in  by  all  the  windows  pushed  open.  they  may  be  able  to  paint  -  but  it  doesn't  mean  they  should.  it  doesn't  mean  there's  a  career  to  be  had  -  it  doesn't  mean  that  kit's  made  something  of  themselves,  or  that  they're  anything  at  all.  for  all  kit  tries;  it  does  hurt.  doubt  does  laps  around  their  brain;  wearies  their  hands,  causes  the  cracks  in  their  reflection  to  deepen  with  time.

against  it  all;  they  apply  for  st.  cuthbert's  art  school  -  for  palladian.  and  by  some  sort  of  miracle,  surely,  and  not  by  their  own  hard  -  earned  talent,  they're  accepted.  their  parents  refuse  to  pay  at  first;  but  an  idea  sparks  within  their  thoughts,  opportunity  shining  through  their  eyes.  at  kit's  first  sign  of  failure,  of  a  poor  grade  -  a  bad  presentation,  a  forgotten  assignment,  an  ill  -  prepared  exam;  they  will  retract  from  the  art  world.  they  will  leave  everything  they've  built  for  themselves  -  and  return  to  reality.  it's  a  deal  kit  cannot  afford  to  not  take.

pressure  is  always  hot  on  their  heel;  but  within  the  four  years  of  their  attendance  at  palladian's  -  kit  has  never  failed.  perfection  doesn't  come  without  repercussion,  however;  their  relationships  have  faltered  and  withered,  have  distanced.  their  bed  rarely  sees  them;  their  eyes  are  sore  with  unslept  sleep,  heart  always  in  a  race  with  itself.  they  are  walking  decay,  and  they  are  blind  to  it.

personal details.

comes  of  as  extremely  pretentious  upon  first  impression  -  and  for  a  somewhat  good  reason.  they  come  from  a  well  -  off  family,  spend  hours  painting  and  if  not  that,  then  studying  art  history  and  techniques  themselves.  their  entire  life  feels  dedicated  to  this  one,  big,  grand  thing.

while  off  -  putting  at  first,  kit  isn't  intentionally  unfriendly.  it's  the  way  their  jaw  sets  firm,  the  way  their  eyes  flicker  inquisitively  -  always  skeptical.  they're,  frankly  -  shit  at  socialization.  has  always  isolated  themselves  -  and  reap  the  consequences  of  it.  to  their  close  friends,  kit  is  actually  ...  friendly,  maybe  even  witty  -  maybe  even  kind.  but  those  friends  are  far  and  few  between.

anxiety; the  thing  about  them  is  that  they're  a  deep,  deep  perfectionist;  everything  needs  to  be  painstakingly  perfect.  one  mistake,  and  kit  feels  an  overwhelming,  all  -  consuming  sense  of  dread.  of  anxiety.  prone  to  hyperventilation  when  things  go  awry.  it's  not  just  them,  it's  their  family  -  everything  banks  on  the  perfection  they've  promised.

don't  worry,  though,  self  care  isn't  lost  on  them!  wouldn't  go  as  far  as  to  call  themselves  wicca,  or  a  practicing  witch,  or  any  of  that  -  but  there's  comfort  in  a  ritual,  in  crystals  left  at  an  altar,  in  collecting  moon  water  and  finding  comfort  in  her  soft  glow  when  they  can't  sleep  -  which  is  every  night.  they  don't  necessarily  believe  in  it;  but  it's  one  of  those  small,  self  -  soothing  rituals  that  keeps  the  worst  of  their  anxieties  away.

it's  not  that  kit  is  necessarily  confident  -  it's  just  that  they  can't  afford  to  let  their  insecurities  show,  to  let  others  know  that  their  weaknesses  are  already  served  up  on  a  silver  platter  for  easy  pickings.  any  criticism  is  a  deep  hit  to  the  heart;  another  spiral  to  fall  down.

prescription drug use; prone  to  long  hours  spent  awake  until  literal  collapse;  a  combination  of  excessive,  worrying  amounts  of  caffeine  and  the  sleep  medication  prescribed  to  them  leading  to  sleepwalking  episodes  that  take  them  across  campus  more  often  than  not.  has  once  woken  up  in  the  cotswolds  with  no  recollection  of  how  they've  gotten  there.

their  resting  heartbeat  is  extremely  abnormal  due  to  the  multiple  factors  above;  a  constant  hummingbird's  flutter  within  their  chest  that  doesn't  waver,  even  for  a  moment.  always  a  bit  on  edge,  always  a  bit  uneasy;  the  rigidity  goes  beyond  their  presumed  prestige.

has  recently  broken  up  with  their  long  -  term  partner,  who  they've  been  in  a  relationship  since  the  start  of  their  college  career.  their  first  everything  -  now  bound  by  distance  and  silence.  if  it  bothers  kit,  they  don't  make  it  obvious  besides  conversations  coming  to  a  startling  end  every  time  the  other  is  mentioned.

desired plots.

best friends! often thought of as the only people kit can stand; really, they're just the only people who don't drain them of whatever's left of their energy. whether college - formed or longer, they're the only people kit trusts undoubtedly. ( 0 / 2 ).

competition and / or rivals!  as the title says; other painters that kit perceives as a threat to their perfect marks, or their success. they have issues! they'll be brutal! maybe it's homoerotic!  (  0 / 2 ).

dreamcatchers!  simply put, people who've found kit after a sleepwalking incident and had the misfortune of waking them. it's embarrassing, man. they'll never speak of it.  (  0 / 3  ).

their ex!  also featured as a wc on main; this is kit's former longterm partner. like years worth of memories; but with the constant weight on kit's shoulders and their inability to set their work aside - their relationship had always been doomed.  (  0 / 1  ).

literally anything else we can think of. i'm open to anything!

[hearthandhallows]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Aris had never been the kind of person to celebrate his birthday. No big gatherings, no candles to blow out, no fuss. It wasn’t that he disliked the day, it just felt quieter to him than it did to most. But still, he liked an excuse to get himself a little treat.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So, when the morning light began to seep through the gauzy curtains of his bedroom, Aris was already up. The house was hushed, and the air carried that soft, early stillness that only came before the rest of the world had properly stirred. He slipped on his boots, grabbed his backpack, and tucked a few supplies inside: his pourover kit, a thermos of hot water, a tin of his favorite coffee, and a small, dog-eared journal just in case the mood struck him to write something down. Then he headed out, letting the door shut behind him with a soft click.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The walk to Widow’s Bridge was peaceful. Dew clung to the edges of leaves and grass, the morning sun glinting off each droplet like tiny crystals. Birds rustled and chirped from the canopy overhead, and somewhere nearby, the low babble of the creek kept him company. Aris’s breath fogged lightly in the cool spring air as he reached the bridge.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He found a flat patch near the edge of the creek, not too close, but just near enough to hear the water. He laid out his supplies with practiced ease and began making coffee. His favorite method was a pourover, slow, deliberate, and beautifully simple. The way the hot water bloomed the grounds, filling the air with that deep, rich aroma, made something in his chest unclench. It was ritual. It was therapy. It was his.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ With his knees drawn up and the ceramic mug cupped in both hands, he watched the steam rise and curl into the morning light. He sat like that for almost an hour, sipping slowly, letting his thoughts drift and tangle like wildflowers. He’d come to the bridge on his first few days in town, and he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. To his surprise, he met a boy with pretty blue eyes and soft skin, someone that made his heart flutter. Because of that, he felt a certain sense of gratitude to the spot.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Once the last of the coffee was gone and the cup wiped clean, he packed up again and dusted off his hands. His next stop was Little Red Barn Antiques. He’d walked past it a dozen times but never gone in. Inside, the shop smelled of aged paper, wood polish, and something faintly floral. Sunlight filtered in through lace curtains, casting soft patterns across the cluttered shelves. He wandered slowly, fingers brushing the spines of old books, the corners of postcards, and curled edges of forgotten letters. Time moved differently in a place like this.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Then, tucked between a battered atlas and a thin blue volume of poetry, he found it; a map. Old, clearly, and a little worse for wear. There was a stain in the corner, suspicious but forgivable, and the paper had gone soft with age. But there it was: a weathered map of Cardinal Hill. His new home. His lips parted in a quiet breath of surprise, then curled into a small, private smile.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ By the time Aris got back home, the clock read just after 9:00 a.m. He let his backpack drop to the floor and collapsed backward onto the bed, the map still gently rolled in his hand. Baxter immediately perked up from his place at the foot of the bed and padded over, tail wagging. Aris chuckled softly and tugged the dog closer, fingers curling into the golden fluff behind his ears.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Hey, buddy,” he murmured. “Guess we’re another year older.” Baxter let out a contented huff and flopped against him, and Aris closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing. Maybe Copper would surprise him with a cake later, or maybe he’d go visit Ocean. He wasn’t sure. But for the first time in a while, he felt calm on his birthday. Settled. 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And that, Aris thought, might just be enough.

[dorasdiary]

#05 habits to maintain

blossom into her best self

1. spring clean and organisation:

• declutter her space: spend a day (or two) decluttering your living area. donate what she doesn’t need and organise what she keep

• refresh her wardrobe: pack away winter clothes and curate a spring wardrobe that makes her feel fabulous. think about adding pieces that reflect the spring vibe - floral prints, pastels, and light fabrics

• digital detox: clean up her digital spaces. unsubscribe from unwanted emails, organise her files, and tidy up her social media

2. hydration and nutrition:

• hydrate: aim for 2-3 liters of water daily. experiment with infusing her water with fruits or herbs to make hydration a delightful experience

• protein-rich foods: shift her focus to including more protein in her diet. experiment with plant-based proteins and lean meats to support her muscle health and energy levels

• daily smoothies: commit to blending a nutritious smoothie every day. focus on ingredients like spinach, berries, and flaxseed to nourish her skin from the inside out

3. exercise and connect with nature:

• increase her daily steps: aim for at least 10,000 steps a day. enjoy the spring weather and explore new areas in her neighbourhood

• explore new outdoor workouts: shake up her fitness routine by trying new outdoor activities like cycling or outdoor yoga. these workouts can provide a fresh perspective and new challenges

• connect with nature: spend more time outdoors, whether it's gardening, hiking, or simply enjoying a picnic in the park. allow nature to rejuvenate her spirit and inspire her fitness journey.

4. self-care, growing and wellness:

• expand her horizons: pick a book on wellness or personal development that sparks her interest and apply its insights into her life. also, explore a new hobby or skill this month. it can be digital art, gardening, or a physical activity that challenges her. this pursuit of learning can open up new pathways for growth and self-discovery

• nature-inspired meditation & journaling: dedicate time to meditate in a serene outdoor spot, using the tranquility to deepen her practice. pair this with journaling to capture her growth, thoughts, and the natural beauty that inspires her

• curate a personal wellness kit: put together a kit of self-care essentials, including soothing scents, comfortable textiles, and anything else that brings her joy. this kit can serve as her go-to for moments of relaxation and introspection.

[belanekra]

Interesting annotations on Acceptance by Jeff Vandermeer (part one)

From genius.com.

As related by the lighthouse keeper’s assistant to Old Jim in the village bar, T-minus 3 days to Area X: “Saul hated the Seance & Science Brigade but, hey man, you couldn’t blame them for everything. And they had, amid all of the stupid phrasing about their work, educated him on the tangled origins of his beacon—a long, rich history that I didn’t even know. But I know Saul–he’s a humble man, bit of a prude, ut he never liked receiving a lecture, even one partially asked for–must’ve rankled for a time, but there had been a sense of pride in finding out that this particular arrangement of lenses was among the finest in the world. Must have been.

“Hey, these were facts any of us could have looked up, if we’d wanted to. He had all of the old log books, but nothing much about the lighthouse itself, which had been built as a literal afterthought when the old site on the island had been abandoned. That’s part of what he learned. The lighthouse just had a number, not a name, although some now called it the Forgotten Lighthouse, and there was some talk that it might be decommissioned sooner than Saul was forced into retirement. I think Saul thought maybe it could be opened to tourists and he could become its caretaker in a different way. That he could stay on. But none of us stay on long here, you know?”

-------

“Some days I’m happy. I’m happier than I should be. The border’s a memory. The border’s so far away, and I’m thinking about growing up in the old house by the farm and the way the fields looked in the spring: so bright that no shadow could fall there, not even at dusk. That the dark came on like something that dropped over our heads, and just was, without preamble. How we’d sit on the porch in the afternoon with science kits my mom had bought, my sister and me, and we’d put things together, take things apart. The thirst that wasn’t quite assuaged when dad brought out a jug of lemonade.

“The way the oaks obscured the lake but the lake glimmered through like it held a secret, too. But I’m just writing words to write words now because Little W is dead and that brings the border closer. He died the way things usually die: of old age, because he was made in a way that meant one day he would be gone. It’s okay that he’s gone. I knew it would happen. But even though it might help keep my mind off of things, I can’t replace him. There will be only one Little W. I’ll put him by the plant.

“Magical thinking. Stupid thinking. But the human mind wasn’t built for this universe we live in. It was built for something else, I’m sure of it. We’re in the wrong context. We’re all in the wrong context.” – from the private journals of Whitby Allen, discovered in a crawlspace above a storage closet; lost there again soon after.

-------

“The landscape surges toward me too many times. Too many times things are not what they seem even if they already seem dangerous. I keep things out by humming song lyrics. Songs my ex-husband liked, because if I think of the ones my girlfriend listens to I lose it. ‘There’s a memory of a ghost/But I hold it close.’ Even better–something the border commander enjoyed.

“But mostly it’s just the music. It’s holding onto the old life that I hope still exists. It’s keeping Area X out. I don’t need to come out of this unchanged. How could I expect that. Who could? But if I could see them again. My sons. The crap they listened to that I couldn’t stand, but, when I can bear it, humming that too, because it conjures them up. E

“I don’t know where anyone is now. I’ve seen. I’ve seen wonders. I’ve seen horrors. I don’t know the difference any more.”

a scrap of paper found by Ghost Bird, looking through Grace Stevenson’s knapsack

-------

“The problem you start to have is you don’t know which illusions are coming from where–Central or Area X, the Southern Reach or the Forgotten Coast? The terroir of each should be distinct. I should be able to suss out the direction. I should know north from south. But too often I don’t. It’s almost like they’re all mixed up together. As if they don’t themselves know where one ends and the other begins.

“Say you’re called to the secret headquarters of a sociopath, someone who has constructed a fake lighthouse, a fake topographical anomaly, a fake base camp. When you’re supposed to be somewhere else. A long time before your boss ever gets to go, not that anyone ever wants to go.

“And you pass these silver decommissioned mines or buoys and for all you know these mean something too. Are they there because Lowry inherited them from the military base he took over, or do they approximate something in Area X? Or did Central bring them and their meaning lies elsewhere? Or they mean nothing. But you can’t be sure. You’re staring back at them at the corner of your vision, thinking they might morph into another shape, another structure, another answer.

“Just because they never do doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

from Whitby Allen’s private journal

-------

Excerpt from an interview conducted between two high-level operatives at Central, initials only on the transcript for the interrogator: JS.

Q: Tell me again how long you stayed and why you left.

A: I only stayed four days. That’s all I could take. I know I was supposed to clean up before the new director got there, but I came up against…issues…between me and Assistant Director Grace Stevenson. But that wasn’t the real problem if I’m honest. Though it didn’t help.

Q: What was the real problem?

A: On the second day, I found evidence of “touch.”

Q: Could you provide context, for the record?

A: When I worked in counter-intelligence, a “touch” was what we referred to as a hint that some other observer had viewed information. Just a light brush of some sort against, say, a file, as in this case. Not even a computer file, but an old-fashioned folder left by the former director of the Southern Reach.

Q: What was in the file?

A: The folder held a report on an interrogation of a returning expedition member, a map of Area X, a few scribbled notes, an odd diagram of stick figures perhaps drawn by the director, a photograph of the members of the twelfth expedition during training, and a post-it note with “Annihilation” scraped onto it with a sharpie, an odd mold stain beneath the word. I don’t really know why this file was there in the first place.

Q: Please return to the idea of the touch on the file. Who do you think had “touched” it? And how exactly?

A: A touch usually reveals itself because you’re looking for traps set. For a physical file, it’s some aspect of the information that you cannot put back exactly as you found it. Or, if you want to go old-school, an example would be a hair glued so that the person opening the file breaks a crude alarm system, if you want to put it that way.

Q: But this wasn’t a trap you sprang?

A: It’s weird. I didn’t think of it that way. Just had an instinct that something was wrong with the file–that it had been tampered with and yet everything within it been put back exactly as before. I can only say that something about the pages within felt looked at by the wrong eyes. I have no evidence to support this assertion, but when you’ve worked in the field a long time, you get to trust these feelings.

Q: Can you be clearer?

A: Sometimes I intuit a conclusion before I understand the evidence. So I believed that I was looking at something I couldn’t quite see but that would come into focus.

Q: And you weren’t concerned that, in fact, your ability to function was somehow impaired? That maybe you were being paranoid or had begun to burn out? After…22 years of this kind of work?

A: No. Quite the opposite. Without my experience, I would have been worried. Belief in my instinct relieved me of the burden of having to interrogate my response as preternatural. I knew I was not delusional.

Q: So what did you do?

A: The question became whether the touch came from the outside, peering in on Southern Reach activities, or had the touch come from within The Southern Reach, emanating outward.

Q: It never occurred to you that the touch might come from another direction altogether.

A: Not at that time, with the information available to me.

Q: Not once? Remember–our confidence in your ability to continue depends in part on conclusions reached after this interview.

A: I’m going to ignore that. I don’t work for you. I work directly for him, and he doesn’t care what conclusions you draw.

Q: That’s an interesting theory. I know a few people in Central who might disagree. But all right then. Continue.

A: I finally found the evidence of “the touch” on the file. I had left my desk not five minutes before, where I’d left that particular file on my desk. I was going through a pile of files in an old storage room down in the science division and I found the same file. With the same exact contents in it.

Q: So it was a photocopy? That’s what you found suspicious.

A: No. It was the exact same file.

Q: …I don’t understand the distinction.

A: I took it back into the office to compare. The other identical file was still there, so no one was playing a prank on me.

Q: I still don’t understand the significance of “identical”. Pretend I’m stupid for a moment.

A: Down to the foxing on the corners of the file. Down to the outline of the smudges and coffee stains on some of the pages. Down to the wrinkles in the illustration drawn by the director. And yet I knew it was not the same file. That it was a kind of mimic. And that it represented a sophistication of spy-craft beyond anything I’d ever seen. And that, unlike the other file…this one was breathing.

Q: …Breathing? Were you drunk? Were you on any medications at the time.

A: Breathing. Like a fluctuation in the air around it. I became convinced the second file was an organism of some kind. And no. I wasn’t. On drugs. I’m not. And, knowing you, no, I shouldn’t be. On medication.

Q: We’ll come back to that in a second, but for now–

A: You want to know what I did next. I got the hell out. I put down the file and I got the hell out. And I’m not going back.

Q: Except there’s no evidence of a second file. There’s just one file. On your desk back at the Southern Reach. And I can tell you for a fact it’s not breathing.

A: Fuck you. Just…fuck off. I’m not going back. I’ve got nothing else to say. L____ said you could keep me here for an hour, but not longer. So I’m going now.

Q: If you say so. If you say so.

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“Control didn’t buy into the former director’s plan. Control wouldn’t be fooled by either her or the sycophant Whitby. Both of them thought that the biologist could be subverted to their cause. Both of them saw not science but philosophy in the biologist’s transcripts.

“But not Control. He would understand that the entire scientific process has been corrupted by a dangerous idea of subjectivity. That helplessness had occurred as a function of diverting resources away from pure science and into theoretical areas of psychology and of para-psychology. That staking everything on the biologist was like tossing a quarter in a wishing well. Deep down into a tower-tunnel where lies the str

“But not Control. He would understand that the entire scientific process has been corrupted by the strangling fruit that

“But not Control. He would understand the corruption going on. He would do something about it. He had come to clean house. And if others didn’t get in his way, supported him behind the scenes, then perhaps the former director’s ‘defiant weapon’ would be revealed for the wishful thinking it ultimately was…and in the aftermath, others could step to the fore. That the science department could finally fulfill its destiny. Its destiny to…It’s destiny.” – Found in science director Mike Cheney’s desk, fragment draft from a manuscript, “Control and the Plant” that appears to have been a fictional short story about the new director of the Southern Reach.

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“They looked like rabbits for a moment, against the night sky. They looked like white rabbits, appearing there like slow-moving shooting stars, in the deep sky behind the lighthouse. Floating across the dunes. Stitching through the darkness. But of course we were drunk and it was only for a moment before the illusion faded, and nothing appeared on our instruments. There were no readings of any kind. A hallucination, because where could they have gone? Nowhere. Because it didn’t happen. Like I said, we were drunk and dancing around a bonfire and I only record it because we are supposed to record everything.” – Séance & Science Brigade journal entry, three days prior to the creation of Area X

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There were visual elements associated with that first video that were filed separately at Southern Reach, including several sketches. Actually, these consisted of still images that appeared at the very end of the video that did not seem to fit with the consensus narrative that emerged as the video was analyzed and interpreted. These images were considered peripheral and deleted from the video. However, someone printed the images–including the one below–and filed them under 0023.

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