#exist binder index

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[gav-san]

The Dark Age: 6

Masterlist here

MY HERO ACADEMIA Masterlist

The Dark Age Masterlist

Chapter Six: Laundering Your Reputation: A Villain’s Guide to Faking It

Words: 1.5K

Previous/Next

You told him not to come.

You were very clear. Even included visual aids.

“If you set foot in that courtroom,” you had warned, waving a spatula for emphasis, “I will legally disown your entire face. I don’t care if you show up as a judge, a janitor, or a very convincing ficus. Stay away.”

All Smite had nodded at the time. Listened. Even blinked slowly, like he understood boundaries.

Which is why your brain nearly explodes when you open the courtroom door and see him already seated in the front row.

Three-piece suit. Perfectly ironed. Glasses. A mustache so fake it could be charged with fraud.

He is not alone.

Beside him is a man who looks like he has never slept a day in his life. Small, wiry, and swimming in terror. Your pretty sure he defends villains in other cases. His arms are wrapped around a stack of binders so color-coded they may have their own weather system. Every file is labeled in precise block print. One of them reads “Tenko’s Digestive Irregularities: Quarterly Review.”

You stare.

He nods.

You step back out the door.

A folder is shoved into your hand before you can escape.

“Tenko’s iron levels were low in March. Fixed that,” All Smite says. “He prefers grape-flavored vitamins now. Chewable.”

You open the folder. It contains charts. Bloodwork. A comparison between chewable and gummy vitamin absorption rates. You are not qualified for this level of parental espionage.

You take a seat beside him anyway. Your entire body vibrates with rage. He doesn’t seem to notice. Or care. He is too busy reviewing a printout titled “Lunchbox Contents and Emotional Response Correlation.”

Then the courtroom doors swing open.

And the real threat walks in.

Kotaro Shimura.

The kind of man who wears his cruelty like cologne. Expensive suit. Polished shoes. A smirk that belongs on a mugshot. He walks with the casual confidence of someone who has hurt people and gotten away with it.

Behind him, his lawyer. A tall, raven-haired woman with an expression carved from stone. She looks like she files restraining orders for fun.

Your stomach turns.

Kotaro doesn’t glance your way. Doesn’t acknowledge Tenko’s existence. His eyes pass over you both like you are furniture.

All Smite’s eyes don’t.

They track Kotaro’s every step.

Carefully.

Slowly.

All Smite doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens. The lawyer beside him begins sweating harder.

This is not how either of you hoped Nana’s only son would grow up, but there’s nothing either can do now.

The hearing begins.

Kotaro’s lawyer opens strong. She uses words like infrastructure, genetic legacy, biological prerogative. You don’t like how many times she says father’s rights.

You feel sick.

Tenko shifts uncomfortably in the seat behind you, clutching your bag like a life raft.

Then All Smite opens his briefcase.

And the real war begins.

Out come the binders. Dozens of them. Academic records. Attendance logs. Doctor’s notes. Vaccination history. There is an entire file dedicated to Tenko’s sleeping habits during allergy season. A tabbed index for emotional support plushies. A page titled Stomach Aches and Parental Presence: A Behavioral Study.

You almost scream.

He brought research.

The judge looks baffled. “And who are you, exactly?”

All Smite rises.

Voice low. Calm.

“I’m a family friend,” he says, like that word has weight. And history. And scars.

Then he speaks. Not loudly. But with clarity. Five minutes of a monologue that builds like a storm.

He talks about legacy.

About what it means to grow up in the shadow of something broken. What it means to survive cruelty and still choose kindness. What it means to be fed, and seen, and believed.

He says children do not belong to blood. They belong to the people who do the work.

Who pack the lunches. Who listen to the crying. Who help clean the mess when nightmares make it to daylight.

“Children remember who showed up,” he says. “Even when they’re old. Especially then.”

The courtroom goes still.

Even Kotaro looks unsettled.

When All Smite sits back down, the judge does not speak for a long time.

You elbow him hard. “You weren’t supposed to come.”

He takes a sip of coffee and replies evenly, “I printed you a clearance badge. Yours says ‘CO-GUARDIAN.’ You’re welcome.”

You consider homicide.

Then Tenko is called to the stand.

He walks slowly, nervous. Still small in his too-big vest. His shoes scuff softly against the floor.

“I don’t want to go back,” he says.

His voice shakes. But it doesn’t stop.

“My dad… he didn’t like noise. Or toys. Or when I got dirt on my clothes. He locked me in the backyard once. I almost ran away. But my aunt found me.”

He swallows.

“She feeds me. She doesn’t yell. Toshi bought me a toothbrush that’s just mine.”

The courtroom breaks.

The stenographer cries first.

Then the judge.

Then the lawyer with the sharp heels dabs her mascara.

You do not cry.

Not yet.

Not while Tenko’s voice is still shaking.

Not while the courtroom still echoes with the soft sound of tears that aren’t yours.

But something inside you begins to fray. A thread pulled loose. A quiet snapping of a knot that’s lived too long in your chest.

It doesn’t break. Not completely. But it gives.

Just enough.

Beside you, All Smite doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t move.

He just sits, too still for someone so large, jaw locked tight as though there’s something he won’t let himself say. Something old. Something buried deep. Whatever it is, it’s not yours to name.

But it’s there. And it’s loud in the silence.

The judge clears his throat.

“I see no reason to delay the verdict,” he says, though his voice lacks its usual formality. He signs the papers with a kind of reverence, like the pen weighs more than it should.

And just like that, it’s over.

No trumpets. No fireworks. Just ink drying on a page.

Custody is yours.

You don’t remember standing. You just remember the way your knees almost give out and how, without needing to be asked, All Smite rises with you, steady as a pillar.

He puts a hand on your elbow. Doesn’t look at you.

But he steadies you all the same.

Outside, the sun is offensively bright. Too golden. Too warm for a day that’s worn your soul thin.

You stand in the parking lot, dazed and blinking, like someone dropped you into a world that hasn’t yet caught up to the moment.

Tenko hums quietly beside you. The little tune is off-key, but it’s soft and sure. He clings to your hand like it’s an anchor and he’s finally found harbor.

You stare at the sky.

It doesn’t offer answers. It rarely does.

But for a single, suspended moment, it feels wide enough to hold your grief. Maybe even your hope.

All Smite doesn’t crowd you. He stays a few paces behind, hands buried in his coat pockets, like he’s afraid to step too close. Like he’s used to people breaking once they have nothing left to fight.

He doesn’t gloat.

Doesn’t make a quip.

He just says, “He deserves better.”

The words aren’t meant to land softly.

But they do.

He follows you to the car in silence. Opens the door like it’s habit. Like he’s always opened doors for you, even when you weren’t looking.

When you finally lower yourself into the passenger seat, your hands are shaking. Not enough to panic. Just enough to remind you that your body hasn’t caught up to your heart.

All Smite doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay.

He just reaches into his coat and quietly hands you a single tissue, the kind you know he carries more for other people than himself.

You take it.

You don’t thank him.

But you hold onto it anyway, clutched in your lap like a surrender you’re not ready to speak aloud.

He rounds to the driver’s side, slipping in with that same quiet force that always makes you nervous. The kind of calm you don’t trust from a man who’s punched holes through buildings.

“You owe me,” he says, undoing his tie with a grunt.

You shoot him a look, dry and sharp. “I cooked for you for two months. I washed your blood-soaked hoodie. I ironed your cape while you snored like a freight train.”

He gives a thoughtful pause, rolling the tie around his fingers. Then nods once.

“Fair.”

Then, like a man who’s unquestionably going to disregard every traffic law known to the prefecture, he snatches the car keys with a cocky little flick of his wrist. His smirk is criminal. He turns to Tenko, who is thrilled.

You stare at him.

“You’re going to let him drive, aren’t you?”

“Just in circles,” he says, already adjusting the seat like this is his car now. “Probably.”

You don’t argue.

You should.

But instead, you let him.

You don’t know why.

Maybe it’s exhaustion.

Maybe it’s insanity.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the way he said he deserves better, like he wasn’t just talking about Tenko.

Maybe for the first time, you believe he’s trying.

And that might just be enough.

For now.

[the-hinky-panda]

Yellowstone: Boss Mare Series: Part IV

You have an ill mother and a pantry stocked with Hormel chili to thank for your temporary appointment of the ranch cook. It’s the middle of the afternoon when you follow Jamie up the wide front porch steps and through the large main door of the main house. It reminds you of your father’s house in the northwestern part of the state. Large, grand, picture perfect. You’re wise enough to know every foundation has cracks though and perfection doesn’t exist. 

That knowledge doesn’t stop you from pleading your case for a job in the ranch’s kitchen and with John Dutton facing the fourth night of canned food for dinner, you gain your job as interim cook. Things may change when Gator’s mother rallies from her heart attack and he returns to Montana, but for now, the kitchen is yours. You’re also given a room and small bathroom over the kitchen to stay in until a more permanent plan is made. 

You impressed them that first evening with a simple meal of green salad, a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and a simple chocolate cake for dessert. You were told the big challenge though was feeding the bunkhouse. That’s why you’re thankful for running into Walker that evening. Despite his telling you to leave the ranch as soon as possible, he gives you the list of favorite breakfast foods in the bunkhouse. 

“If you find that biscuit recipe,” he told you by the stream, “you’re golden.” 

You spent half the night searching through books, boxes, and drawers in the kitchen. It’s almost midnight when John Dutton comes into the kitchen and finds you sitting on the floor with binders and recipe cards laid out in front of you. You wait to see what he’s going to say, to do. Is he going to scold you for being out of your room? For going through things that he didn’t give you permission to go through? Instead of saying anything, he just retrieves a glass from the cabinet, steps over you, and fills it with water from the tap. 

“You know we’re not going to give you a written test, right?” 

You nod. “Yes, I know. I, uh, I was just looking for a specific recipe.” 

He drinks the water and sets the glass in the sink. “Let me guess. The biscuits?” 

“I heard they were a favorite.” 

“Well, you heard right.” 

He goes over to a cabinet that holds multiple liquor bottles and reaches into the back. He pulls out a stack of worn, stained index cards held together with a rubber band. Carefully, he pulls out one and hands it to you. It’s the biscuit recipe. You glance at the others and he chuckles. 

“You gotta earn the other ones.” 

You stand up from the floor. “Fair enough. Thank you, for this. For everything.” 

He nods in acknowledgement and points at the card in your hand. “How about we trade a secret for a secret?” 

You shift uneasily on your feet. “Okay.” 

“This thing you’re running from, is it going to come looking for you?” 

“I don’t know,” you answer. “I don’t know if I’m worth going after, to be honest.” 

“Husband?” 

You curl your toes into the stone floor and force yourself to nod your head. “Yes. And my father, possibly. Like I said, I don’t know if they consider me worth tracking down.” 

He hands you another recipe, roast duck in a wine sauce. “Where did you come from?” 

“Between Yarnell and Rexford. In the-” 

“Kootenai National Forest, I know it.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Doomsday preppers? Hoarding guns and ammo, that kind of shit?” 

You shake your head. “No. Nothing like that.” 

“The only other groups that like those types of areas are cults or communes.” He gives you a brief head to toe scan. “And judging from how much you’re set on proving your worth, I’m going to say you’re no hippie.” 

“No sir.” 

He hums quietly and hands over another card, chestnut dressing with currants. “My family’s safety comes first. This ranch comes first. If anything threatens it, the threat will be swiftly dealt with. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir. If anyone from my old life comes around, you will be the first to know. But please know, no matter what they say, I don’t want to go back there. Ever again.” 

“Alright. That’s all I need to know for now.” He hands you one more card before putting the rest in his shirt pocket. “That one is also a breakfast favorite around here.” 

You look down at it and see it’s a hashbrown casserole recipe. You smile as you run your fingers over the oil stains and neat handwriting on the cards. They are more than just the roadmap to your success; they’re pieces of trust. That is something that has been severely lacking in your life. Hopefully, that won’t be the case anymore. 

[not-poignant]

Hi! Okay, so I found you originally gods back in like, 2018? Maybe? Time is fake. Anyways you wrote my all time favorite fic, then I found you again recently through A Stain That Won't Dissolve and I am just absolutely devouring this one as much as the other.

My question is, I know you have you original works published (Which I just saw and had no idea about and will be thoroughly checking those out.) But, would you ever do physical copies of any of your AO3 stories? I'm guessing the answer is no on that and that's totally fine!! But the thought of having those fics in my grubby lil hands in the form of paper is such a satisfying thought. But I am just as happy having them in a lil folder in my chrome or downloaded to my phone completely.

Anyways I just need you to know that you are a gods damn holy being and I am so glad you exist because your writing gives me a reason to keep living ;-; thank you!

Hi anon!

So I won't ever do physical copies of my own fanfiction stories, unless I like commission a book binder to make some copies just for me.

But as for my original stories on AO3, I do really want to physically publish them. That was actually the plan for this year - to start doing this - but I hit what I like to call Mega Burnout, and struggled just to write, and have had to backburner a lot of stuff, a lot of plans. I started to edit Game Theory and then...yeah.

It is the plan though! It's become especially true actually with later stories like Underline the Black and Falling Falling Stars. I think these could be really good published as unconventional psychological fiction, and I don't mean 'really good' as in it will make me a lot of money - I don't think they will, Perth Shifters taught me that book publishing isn't for me if I'm doing it for finance reasons lmao - but I mean... just for the satisfaction of seeing my own fucking writing on my own bookshelves.

I'm weak, I want to see it somewhere where it feels substantial, and where I can hold it in my own hands, and it has a cover, and a proper copyright page, and an index. Where it can be not just in ebook form because AO3 will do that for you, but where it can exist for audiences who wouldn't touch AO3 with a 10 foot pole (because they like missing out on great stories or w/e).

It's very indulgent of me, but as I get older, I look at my bookshelves and increasingly think 'those folks who have enjoyed my stories - including me - should at least have the choice to put them on their shelves.'

If you're a bookbinder, or willing to print them out for yourself, and don't sell them in any way or form, you can of course do it for myself.

But it grows so much more important to me over time too. <3

[inkofamethyst]

Summer 2025 Goals

In no particular order.

Habits

learn bass guitar -> 60-90 minutes of structured practice daily with an absolute minimum of 30 minutes

stretch daily for five/ten minutes

strength exercise once weekly for thirty minutes

aerobic exercise once weekly for thirty minutes

get back on track with reading

Making

make an indexed pattern binder so i can see every pattern i have up front and stop buying new ones that do the same things as ones I already own (it doesn't have to be perfect it just needs to exist)

finish black half circle skirt (this project has been in the wings since July 2021. I need to finish it.)

make a simple pleated mini skirt out of a rectangle of my brown wool/rayon fabric (should literally take like three days)

finish the scarlet witch cosplay

sleeveless mock neck draft (should take like a day)

sleeveless mock neck final(s)

square neck dress (feel like this should also be quick)

start designing for bicolline

knit a lacy summer cardigan (specifically for outdoor evening events), something soft and light but still cozy

Other

beat Minecraft finally

talk to turquoise-friend about possibly doing a small collaborative project to close out some of my undergraduate research

find out more about the local music scene

flirt twice (hardest one on this list ngl)

Yes, I pulled a few from last year's list. Many more habit-based goals this year, I think. Admittedly, there's a lot here. I think I should try scheduling some of them out. Like maybe stretching can be a first thing in the morning situation (I think finding a video series online will be key). Strength training on Mondays, aerobics Thursdays, something like that? I need to craft a summer syllabus...

[badassindistress]

Writing questions 3 and 22 😘

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

hmm I don't have much of a ritual, except if you count going to bed, almost falling asleep, getting up to write three paragraphs to msyelf in a text message and going to sleep ain. do that enough times until the story is done.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

my file organisation is quite good, a writing folder separated in old fandoms and current projects. my paper organisation isn't. I have 6 current notebooks and things get written in whatever one is either closest or fits in my pocket.I have a folder of old writing saved, but none of it is actually indexed.

Weird writing asks

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #84

Today, J, Br, and I went to the library for a work date. Br had homework, J had his remote work, and I was cutting wires to weave new trees while listening to that playlist that I spoke on recently.

I cut A LOT of wire for trees; at least 7 trees worth. I'll show you:

Although I already had a few coils of wire, I decided to spend the time cutting more. Truth be told, I don't really like working with the gold or silver wire; it's stiffer, harder to twist, and more brittle than other kinds of wire of the same gauge, for whatever reason. Sharper, too; trying to move some of the gold coils around, I ended up poking my fingers enough to draw a little bit of blood, which is really no big deal, but it's still kind of annoying.

Each coil of wire has 27 strands, the length of each being approximately the distance between the tip of my left index finger to the bend of my left elbow. There are so many strands because it takes three strands to weave a branch, three branches to weave a section of a tree, and three sections to make a whole tree.

I got really into the groove of it, though, and before I knew it, 4 hours passed and it felt only like 20 minutes; I really dropped the ball on my hydration game today because of it. I'm sorry about that; I can't exactly implore you to take good care of yourself if I'm not being attentive to the maintenance of my own body, right? So I'll do better tomorrow.

Oh right - speaking of pokey things, though I got the first dose of an HPV vaccine yesterday, and to my surprise, I feel pretty much unaffected by it today. I had heard that this one can sometimes knock people on their ass, and I'm glad that my DNA seems to be such that this isn't the case. Or maybe it's just that this one isn't as bad as I had heard. Either way, I'm not sad about the fact that I don't feel like hot garbage today! Gotta appreciate the little things, right?

After we did a decent amount of work, J, Br, and I left the library to take a walk in its general vicinity. It was almost 60 degrees F in my area today (or 15.5 degrees C if metric is your thing); the walk was lovely. But my brain was still "extended-tendrils-esque" from cutting wire for such a long time, so I was quiet (but not in bad spirits!) for most of it; I'm glad that I get to spend time in the company of folks who don't mind when I'm not animated. The fact that I don't have to mask my autistic traits with Br and J takes a lot of the pressure off of existing in general.

Oh, um! Maybe you don't know what Tendril Theory is. Here's something that can explain it; I didn't make this:

I wished you could come on the walk with us. I passed some interesting-looking houses that I didn't take pictures of, because it seems maybe a little rude to take a picture of a specific person's house without their permission. But one of the houses had a lot of bits and baubles hanging from their trees and shrubs and trellises; it was a marvelous sight to witness. I think my favorite decoration was the glass grapes hanging from a cute-looking trellis. I wish you could have seen them; they were VERY sparkly. I wonder if you would have liked to look at them, too.

We have since returned home, and M continues to go through the second portion of your story. He's finishing up the quests around Cosmo Canyon. It's a beautiful area, and it's wonderful to get a glimpse of the architecture and the handicrafts and the local flora and fauna. I love that there are descriptions of the wild creatures (it makes me sad to hear them be called "fiends") and their dispositions, diets, life cycles, and whatever else. It's like reading through one of those old Wildlife Fact File binders - we had one of these things when I was a little girl; if you've been reading my letters, I imagine you won't be surprised to learn that this was one of my favorite things to read when I was young, haha!

Oh. Right. You… probably have no idea what that looks like. Here:

They're super thick binders filled with folding pages all about some of the animals in my world:

I kinda wish I could send along one of these to you, somehow. I know from watching M wander around that your world has a lot of the same animals that mine does, but we don't have things like chocobos or dragons or cockatrices or basilisks, so I wonder if there are animals in my world that you don't have.

Oh! You know. It occurs to me that you don't have horses in your world. I think maybe you might like horses, so maybe sometime I'll write to you about them. But not today, because I'm tired. Though you can probably tell I'm tired, since I'm rambling. Haha...

Hey, Sephiroth? I wonder if you have a favorite animal. I know you can't tell me what it is (because obviously), but still I'll ask. I'll ask because everyone deserves to have someone care enough about them to ask what their favorite animal is. As for me… it's kind of a toss-up between orcas and barn owls. If you don't have those, maybe I'll tell you about those, too, in some other letter.

Please stay safe out there in the meantime. There are lots of people in my world who are counting on you to turn yourself around and come back in one piece, so try really hard, okay? I'll be cheering for your healing and recovery, because these things are possible, no matter how far we fall down.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[legacoresolutions]

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[magic-in-tiktok]

LARGE VERSION of Gay Satanism Grimoire "Gay Lust" ENGLISH version PDF E-book link FOR DOWNLOAD is here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1HSHX_Bw1fFqU3abFtWrCMveSd6gAkAX7

SMALL VERSION of Gay Satanism Grimoire "Gay Lust" ENGLISH version PDF E-book link FOR ONLINE READING is here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ojIqz8sVp5BK40ZTrDwaSKA7cEOZKYoW/

The simple definition is that a grimoire is a book that contains any kind of magical information. We have to use a simple definition because a witch’s grimoire is as unique as the witch who made it, just as each witch’s practice is unique. What is integral to one witch’s practice may not be to another, and therefore isn’t included in their grimoire.

Grimoires are spell books that contain symbols, incantations, charms, and instructions for invocations and the making of amulets. Although these texts have existed since ancient times, they became much more readily available after the advent of printing. Most grimoires were published in Protestant or other non-Catholic states, since, like witchcraft, the Inquisition considered these texts heretical. Many landed on the pages of the Catholic Church’s Index Librorum Prohibitorum (Index of Prohibited Books).

The long history of the grimoire, with its ancient roots, has brought it into the modern age. It is a very practical tool for any witch that can be personalized to your unique preferences. 

Modern grimoires are as varied as modern witches.

Some witches keep more traditional grimoires with rituals, spells, and information that is important to the witch. There may be a record of the significant events from the life of the witch.

Some witches guard their grimoire carefully and only share with select people, while others publish their grimoire publicly online or in a book.

The grimoire may be a collection of printed papers in a binder, a beautifully decorated journal, or a file on the computer.

A grimoire may be a single book that the witch continually adds to the next page, it may be organized with tabs or folders or it may be a series of journals, each with it’s own purpose.

Some witches include poetry, quotes, recipes, and drawings that may or may not be directly related to magic while others prefer to limit their additions to only magical topics.

There are no rules to how you keep your grimoire so long as it is special to you.

A grimoire can be made from a variety of different materials. It can be hundreds of “pages” long or only contain a couple of important “pages.”

P.S. I put pages in quotes here because some grimoires may not have physical pages at all.

This book may be passed down from one generation to the next, or a witch may create a brand new grimoire for their own practice.

Regardless of what the grimoire looks like or contains, it is special. It’s important for you to create a grimoire that is specific to your needs as a witch, your lifestyle, and your magical practice. Otherwise, you are unlikely to use it.

[paintapicture]

Dahlia's Journal - Entry 1

Dear journal? Perhaps I should come up with a name to write to eventually. Or am I simply writing factual logs of my days? It will need some working out I suppose, but I've got to start somewhere.

So, without further ado. Dear journal with name yet to be decided!

As is rather obvious, since I'm writing these words down, I've decided to keep a record of things. Events? My life to an extent maybe. Not that I expect to leave the greatest of impacts on our Star. But you never know, right?

Perhaps my path will cross with one who does, and the words I write may help in memorising their deeds. To honour the person they were. Which is why I've started writing. For myself, or for others.

If there's anything the journey to Dravania has taught me, it's that truth gets lost. Nuance of a life fades with the turns and only phantoms remain. That tale is not for me to write here, the history of Wehs Lahr will be recorded within its own halls. We may never learn the full truth and understand exactly what happened. so here I am!

Recording what's happening, what I'm doing and who I meet. Maybe I should grab a roster of all registered Wehs Lahr members to stick between these pages. Or whatever the future name shall be.

Do I need to make an index of who they are, their names, professions? I could consider that an option once I get a grasp of how I want to continue with this.

At least my ideas will be recorded and I can always look back on what I've written down. So it will certainly serve a purpose one way or another. It's also rather fun to sit down and reflect a little bit. I've got countless of sketchbooks and binders with things I've seen. It's only right I also begin adding my words to these moments.

(I'm better with pencil and brush.)

Next adventure I can write down as it happens. But this entry begins at the end of one. We're back now. "Home" I'm feeling much more at home here than I ever did back in Sharlayan. I'm happy.

Everything is terrifying and exciting. It's wonderful!

One day these pages might simply be dust, my efforts for nothing. But for that little chance that perhaps, maybe, it could help paint a picture. Keep a memory alive... that's enough motivation.

I'm also getting hungry and I planned on making some pancakes. So this will have to do for now. There'll be more without a doubt, I've got much to say usually.

Do I sign this? Sincerely? Kindest of regards? Warmest greetings? Hope you're doing well! Not that I know who you are, if you exist. But if you're reading this, hello nice to meet you! No, nice that you're meeting me?!

I'll figure this out.

[epersonae]

The Cooking Project: an introduction

So I've posted quite a bit about my issues with executive dysfunction around cooking, which started the summer before Ryn died and have lingered since then. I've tried a few things to break through it, with limited success.

Then: I was talking to some friends recently and we got talking about "grandma recipes". (See also: @triflesandparsnips' work with soaps and lip balms etc.) In that conversation, I realized again both that I have a lot of cooking knowledge, actually, and that I have my own little collection of that sort of recipes.

I've watched food tv since long before food network existed, and I love figuring out and understanding how cooking works. And I have both a stack of index cards accrued over the years, and an actual binder of print-outs and magazine clippings etc etc, some of which date back almost 30 years at this point.

And then I looked at those cards, and OMG, there's so many that aren't quite complete recipes, including a few that don't even say what they are, plus a few that I've never made. The binder, too, is a mix of things I used to make all the time, and some that were purely aspirational.

wait, what are you doing?

So I'm trying this thing where I make something from my collection, and make some notes about it. (Yeah, I'm doing ye olde food blogging, what of it.) The idea is to get back into regular cooking not as self-care or maintenance or overhauling my daily life or whatever, but by exploring an old special interest, and enjoying the play of it.

the first recipe: key lime pie from tumblr

At the suggestion of one of these friends, I started with a recipe that I found here on Tumblr, at some point I don't remember when, that I've never made: key lime pie. (Apologies for no link, but I literally have no idea what post it was or even when I wrote it down.)

Recipe text, transcribed:

12 oz can sweetened cond. milk 3 egg yolks 1/2 c key lime juice

mix until smooth heat oven to 350F, prebake graham cracker crust for 15 min pour in filling, bake 15 min cool 30 min on counter, then in fridge for 4hrs - overnight

Notes:

sweetened condensed milk only comes in 14oz cans now. I did some math, and increased the lime juice by one tablespoon.

the recipe as I wrote it didn't say what size pie crust. I bought a 9" and I think an 8" would have been a better choice. the ratio of crust to filling was off and the outer edge was frankly silly looking.

I have, in the past, made graham cracker crust from scratch. it's pretty easy, but also premade pie crust, sure why not.

the prebaking was definitely too long, and it ended up tasting a little burnt. I'd do more like 10 minutes max next time.

I started preheating the oven before I mixed the ingredients, because I know how long it takes my oven to preheat.

if I had the experience, I think I would have made a meringue with the egg whites. maybe next time I'll try it.

I added the info about increasing lime juice, the crust size, and baking timing to my card for future reference.

Final thoughts

I would make it again! The filling was tart and creamy, a nice contrast to the crust, and I've always loved key lime pie. Very easy, tasty, and I've added the key parts of my notes to the back of the card.

Update, a couple of weeks later: ended up freezing two slices, will see if they're good unfrozen. (I have a soft spot for terrible frozen key lime pie slices.)

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

Got another long one for ye ADHD friends courtesy of @sapphirecobalt-1

Most of my academic work involves reading and writing papers so my studying/note taking has developed to suit those needs. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of advice to offer when it comes to studying for something like a chemistry exam where specific information needs to be memorized (though I could certainly do some nosing around and offer thoughts on what I think might work).

With that said! Here ya go. Study and note taking thoughts from an adult with ADHD:

Lecture notes:

I handwrite my notes. I used to use notebooks, but now I use 3x5 index cards (blank/lineless, numbered in case I drop them) because they waste less paper, force me to be concise, and are easily replaced/reordered if I want to do that. If I forget my book/cards, I write in the front cover or margins of my textbook, on the back of printed articles, or I borrow paper from a classmate. One time I took notes on my forearm.

I never type my notes; in my experience it is actually better to take no notes at all and then summarize from what I remember later than it is to open my laptop in class for any reason.

My notes are usually just a bullet list of lecture topics and how they relate. If I can get a lecture outline ahead of time to help me visualize the structure it's helpful, but it isn't necessary for success.

I include my own thoughts/interpretations/questions with my lecture notes. In fact, I make a point of doing so, because it helps me process and internalize what I'm learning. However, I draw a box around them so I don't mistake them for lecture material.

Within a day or two of lecture I transcribe my notes, sans personal thoughts, into a Google Doc. I usually offer to take notes for a classmate or two at the beginning of term because it gives me external incentive to a) take notes and b) transcribe them in a timely fashion.

Once I'm done transcribing, I close the Doc and never open it again. (I'm not joking.) I have found that typing them out noticeably reinforces what I learned, but reviewing them in that format does nothing for me.

The thoughts and questions I had during lecture go onto their own notecards (one for each), with a line indicating where and how I had that thought. If they're related to something I've already studied or thought about, I'll put my new card with the existing card it's related to. I'll talk about my indexing system later on.

When I'm reviewing for midterms or lectures, I'll read through my physical cards rather than the Doc. I may or may not add new thought cards as I go.

Studying:

I learned the hard way not to study where I play, which means I don't do homework on my desktop. I don't even do homework in the same ROOM as my desktop. Ideally, I go to the school library and study there, but if that isn't possible I'll sit at my dining room table or on the porch.

Something about trying to read on a computer screen (or even a tablet) completely destroys my ability to pay attention / retain what I'm learning, so I print out assigned articles and rent or buy textbooks. Yes, I am aware this is terrible for the environment; one of the items on my 'to do' list is finding a solution to this problem.

My school has a 10 week term, so I have 10 folders. At the start of term, I put all my week 1 readings in the "week 1" folder, all of week 2 in week 2, etc. This means I only need to carry one folder around, and always know where to find xyz reading when I inevitably need to refer to it later. This doesn't work for classes with textbooks, obviously; for those, I'll include a single sheet with class name + assigned pages so I remember to read them.

At the end of term I take them all out and put them in an indexed binder so I can find them again when I need them (because chances are strong I will, given I'm taking classes super-focused on my specific area of interest), then reuse the folders for the next term.

I use the library to a potentially excessive degree. I study there, I walk through the stacks when I'm bored, I check out and read physical books to support my arguments in my papers, I talk to the librarians about what I'm studying to gain new insight…it's an infinitely useful resource AND it's inherently soothing to be there.

I write and doodle all over the stuff I print out and books that I own / are rented with a 'writing okay' clause. (I ended up purchasing a textbook I'd originally rented because I wrote "FUCK THIS SHIT WITH A BASEBALL BAT" in Sharpie up and down the margins of every page in a specific chapter. They would have accepted the return (no really, I've seen worse in rentals), but I rather treasure that memory, tbh.)

I also abuse the shit out of highlighters. I TRY to focus on the important points, but the thing is, I don't actually expect my highlights to be useful later. That's not why I use them. I do it because it keeps my brain on what I'm reading in the moment that I'm reading it, and saves my fingers from being chewed into oblivion.

I use 3x5 cards to note down the stuff that I do want to reference later, exactly the same as I do for lecture notes. I try to rephrase because again, processing aid, but sometimes I'll just write down exactly what the author said, in quotes. Either way I include the title, author, and page # on every card.

If I have my own thoughts about something I read I'll write all over the reading as I mentioned, but I'll also put them on their own cards, just as I do with my lecture thoughts. I always include the inspiring source, even if what I have to say includes no part of the source material, because I may not remember later and a) I may have misinterpreted what I read and b) plagiarism is bad.

New cards based on written (or video) source material are numbered chronologically. Personal thought cards added in later (from lecture or readings) have the related card's number + a letter. (So existing card 3 may have thought cards labeled 3A, 3B, 3C; if I have an additional thought related to 3C I would label it 3C.1, etc.) This is a fairly clunky adaptation of the zettelkasten method, which I'm hoping to fully adopt as I move into writing my thesis this year. It's like an analog wiki of your own brain and the entire concept fascinates me. Basically I have a rapidly growing collection of interconnected thoughts and resources at my fingertips when I'm writing papers and it's been world-changing.

I love music, but if I'm having trouble concentrating then music makes it worse, not better…even if there are no lyrics. This pisses me off to literally no end! However, it's inarguable that turning my music completely off is the only reason I finished one of my finals by the deadline last term.

A lot of academic writing is incredibly dull to read, and it can require herculean effort to stay on task even when I'm interested in the subject matter. I have had some success with reading only the first sentence of each paragraph in a reading, then going back and reading the whole thing. This sort of…mentally prepares me…for what's ahead in a way that a summary or abstract cannot.

The Pomodoro method also helps with dull readings; 10 minutes on one reading, stop, 10 minutes on another, stop, 10 minutes on a third, stop, 5 minute break, 10 more minutes on the first. Etc. If you do this, I'd recommend setting a bunch of timers ahead of time. Otherwise, every time you go to reset the timer you run the risk of being distracted by app notifications.

If I'm getting antsy and thinking about going home / getting food / checking social media when it isn't a break time, I try simply moving to a different table before I give up entirely. Sometimes I'm just tired of sitting still, so that slight shift is all I really need to get back into it.

I will put my phone in my backpack, zip it up, and put it under my table if I'm struggling to drag myself away from it. I also avoid opening my laptop until/unless I absolutely must.

If I'm really struggling to focus on writing a paper, I'll sign out of all my social media accounts and delete Discord off my laptop. It's easy enough to get back in when I'm done, but not SO easy that they remain an immediate distraction.

In direct contradiction to everything I've said about electronics being distracting: I've found that posting on Tumblr about what I'm up to / need to do / should be doing actually helps me get shit done—as long as I'm not doing that INSTEAD of studying. I suspect it loops back to the same external accountability thing that offering to take notes for my classmates gives me.

Okay. That was a lot. I'm happy to go into more detail about anything y'all have questions about!

[cynnied-writes]

i like me better (when i'm with you)

○ fandom: deltarune

○ main pairing: kralsei (kris x ralsei) |

○ characters: kris | ralsei | muffet | susie

○ genre/warnings: romance (mostly fluff… for now) | a bit of coming of age angst

○ tags: fake dating | celebrity au | social media au | meet ugly | kris is a tiktok musician | ralsei is an aged-out disney channel star | kris is afab | house parties | slightly underage drinking | mentions of blood | mild nudity | kris is a bit of a mess but we love them anyway | AND ralsei is too! | Aren't they perfect for each other??

○ chapter word count: 6,073

→ summary: Kris Dreemurr, the eccentric musician SilentKnight on TikTok, hadn't meant to trespass through Ralsei Prince's backyard and fall into his pond. But to be fair, they were utterly plastered at the time.

○ note: Hey!!! I'm back!!! And I bring you all an oddly shaped gift! You see, there was a problem that I only realized after it was too late to fix. You see, by the time I finished Chapter 7, it was well over 14,000 words and I couldn't in good faith put it out there like that because, you know, pacing is a thing that exists! So, I decided to split the chapter in two for your reading convenience. Though, I now realize that at some point in the latter half of the second act, a Ralsei chapter will have to be split in two as well. For the sake of narrative balance and all that. But that's enough from me, you've been waiting patiently long enough! Go forth and read!!!

< PREV CHP | NEXT CHP > | CHP INDEX

Chapter 7/23: Shit Parking Jobs & Nosy Gossip Youtubers

Kris

Okaaaay...

Susie might’ve had a point about their parallel parking skills.

They’d hear no criticisms from her about it, though. Since she’s the one who’d demanded they pick her up from college. Last night, you see, when she’d gone on a date with Noelle, Susie left her truck behind at home and slept over at the Malibu beach house. And being the kind girlfriend she was, Noelle dropped Susie off at ELAC this morning. But now, she was stranded at college and refused to ride the three buses it would take to get back home.

Which meant that little old Kris got the go-ahead to drive her truck.

Just this once.

Languishing in menstruation hell, they weren’t too impressed when Susie called. But all their annoyance melted away when they realized the opportunity that’d landed in their tired lap. The biggest grin spread across their face as they leapt from their bed, not needing to be asked twice.

Sliding their binder on, they snagged their wallet from a discarded pair of jeans and Susie’s keys from one of her jacket pockets. Shoes on, they were out the door in two minutes flat. Bounding through their apartment complex, they didn’t care what their neighbours might think of them if they saw them running past.

Clad in an old Delta Rune t-shirt and Noelle’s Christmas tree pyjama pants. The ones they’d borrowed (And never returned) that hung low enough on their hips that the thick band of their period boxers showed. Truly peak fashion. If any of their neighbours had a problem with their impeccable taste in clothing, then they could eat a bag of dicks. They had a truck to joyride in.

Hopping into the front seat and adjusting it for their height, they slid the key into the ignition. Relishing in the truck’s awakening rumbles and racket. It’d been a while since they’d driven. Susie hadn’t even let them when they’d made the trek back up to Hometown for Ralsei’s present. But it hadn’t been that long, and they’d only dinged their parent’s vehicles once or twice after getting their license.

At most, their driving skills were a bit rusty. It’s like riding a bike, though, right? A six thousand pound bike that they almost hit another cyclist with when they tried to pull out into the street.

Slamming their foot on the brakes before disaster struck, their shoulders drew up high as they winced. Whoops. Okay, maybe there was a lot more rust than they cared to admit. But it was too late now. They’d already pulled out of the parking spot and were about to turn onto Valleyheart drive. And by then, the freeway was less than a minute away and, well, they made all the fuss. Why turn back now? They wouldn’t want to let their bestie, did they?

Windows down, wind in their hair, and music blasting, driving down the Ventura freeway felt like pure freedom injected into their veins. The bright Californian sun blared down on them as they flew down the road. Every so often, towering clusters of palm trees lined the sides of the highway. Large, verdant fonds stood out against the cloudless blue sky. Riding on this high, they sang along to their guilty alt-pop pleasures as they drove. Their fingers tapped out the familiar piano notes featured in For Elise on the steering wheel.

For a moment, they believed that driving was one of those things that never got old. That this feeling of liberation bubbling in their chest never went away no matter how many times you did it. Yeah… That lasted till they rode the bend that turned into the Golden State Freeway. Immediately hitting a patch of traffic that turned their twenty-eight-minute drive into a fifty-minute one.

Man, fuck this city.

And on top of that, when they’d finally made it to ELAC, they had to face the fact that they couldn’t parallel park for shit. Groaning, they slumped in their seat once they finally settled into a parking spot.

There, they’d made it.

Ugh, the things they did for friendship.

Pulling out their phone, they sent Susie a quick text.

19th September 12:14 pm

Kris: 🙌🏽 🛻🏫🙌🏽

Susie: still in class

Kris: 🤨🤨🤨⏰⏰

Susie: be out in twenty minutes tops

Kris: 😞😞😞😩😩😩

Susie: STFU thats not that long u baby

Kris: 😢😢😭😭😭

They smirked when they didn’t get an immediate text back. It usually meant that Susie had had enough out of them. She hated when they only texted in emojis; it’s impressive that she hadn’t texted back a threat. Must actually be focusing in class. Wow, their not-so-little Susanna, a scholar! Never thought they’d see the day. Well, then, they thought as they sunk further into their seat. Guess they had to wait…

Yeah, no, fuck that! They had a hankering for chocolate (Period cravings, you know?), and they knew that their bookstore had a decent snack section.

Turning the truck off, they hopped out and jaywalked across the street over to the ELAC campus. Taking the front steps two at a time. Once at the top, they shoved one hand into their pyjama pants pocket while the other twirled Susie’s truck keys. Before setting off towards the campus bookstore. While they’re not sure if they’re allowed to be on campus right now, they knew that no one would stop them if they weren’t. It’s incredible how much you can get away with if you act tired enough.

Not necessarily confident, though it helps to be secure in the direction you’re moving, but just downright exhausted. To move like you’ve done what you’re doing a thousand times and are, honestly, kinda sick of it. You’d be surprised how accommodating people are. Such was proven perfectly by the Monster girl, who held the front door open for them without a second thought. That, ladies, enbies, and gentlemen, is how you get into somewhere you’re not supposed to be with ease.

Don’t ask them how they know these things. Some things are better left buried. Lest parental ears catch wind of them.

Before they forgot, they texted Susie about the change of plans and to meet them in the bookstore when she was done. The last thing they needed was her leaving them here because they made her wait too long. Satisfied that she wouldn’t abandon them, they crossed their fingers and entered the bookstore. Hoping that they’d stocked the kind of chocolate bars they liked.

Making a beeline towards the back of the store, they weaved in and out of the aisles. Avoiding the other students the best they could, especially the Human ones. Passing by a wall of ELAC hoodies and shirts (Go Huskies!), they could help but wonder… How hard would Susie thrash them if they bought one and wore it around their apartment? Their gate slowed down a tad before speeding back up once they decided against it. They wanted to see another day and embarrassing Susie Drach was a sure-fire way to fuck that goal up.

Eventually, as they hugged the store’s back wall, they reached the promised land. The snack rack. While it wasn’t the most extensive selection they’d ever seen, it’d have to do. But, as they scoped the chocolate bar situation out, the hairs on the back of their neck stood up straight. All of a sudden bearing the weight of numerous prying eyes on their back. Someone’s watching them. Aww, come on! They just wanted Hershey’s bar and maybe a bag of Chisps too. Was that too much to ask?

Okay, so maybe you’d be better off following someone else’s advice on how to get into places with no scrutiny.

Because before a follow-up plan to avoid further inspection formed in their mind, a silky voice with a rich, Cajun accent popped up behind them. “Why, hello there, is there anything I can help you with?”

Whipping around, they found that it belonged to a tiny spider monster with raven hair pulled half up into twin pigtails and a Gothic Lolita style. Muffet Arachne (She/Her) stood in front of them, or so says the name tag attached to her frilly maroon lapel. And to say that this little spider gave off intense vibes would be a massive understatement.

Despite their comfortability around Monsters and being the same height, this girl and her six eyes froze Kris in their place. Dread pooled in their gut. Why was there a sense of familiarity in her eyes? They’re sure they’d never met her before. Not even in passing. Could she be a fan? Shit, if she was, they should say something. Anything!

Gulping down the knot in their throat, they stuffed their hands in their pockets and said, “You know, I’m—”

“Kris Dreemurr.” Muffet interrupted with a knowing smile, showing off her long fangs. Yeah, that’s fucking creepy. So fucking creepy. Their eyes had gone wide, and while they didn’t know the look on their face, it must’ve illustrated their growing sense of fear. Covering up her mouth with one of her six delicate hands, she giggled. “Oh, cher, don’t worry a hair on your head. I only know you because of Ralsei.”

Leaning back as far as they could while still being polite, they let out an uneasy chuckle. “Do you, uh, know him?”

“I wish, that’d make my job much, much easier.” She said with another giggle before waving the thought away. “Mais non, I’m no friend of his. I run a Youtube channel called Little Miss Muffet, you see, specializing in dishing celebrity news while I bake. Cupcakes, doughnuts, beignets, you name it, I bake it, dearie.”

“Sounds… delicious.” They said with the best “interested” smile they could muster. Everybody’s gotta have a gimmick.

Clasping each set of her hands together, stars burst in every one of her eyes. She said, “I almost couldn’t believe it when you walked into my petite bookstore today of all days. It must be fate.”

“Just pickin’ up a friend.” They said with a tight smile and a shrug. Bristling at the mention of fate. “Nothing special.”

“Very true; you aren’t anything to write home about on your own.” She said. So nonchalantly that they almost weren’t offended by that statement. But before they could work up a fuss, Muffet held a finger up in their face as she continued. Keeping them quiet for a little longer. “But I’m currently working on a video concerning Ralsei’s nineteenth birthday party. Apparently, there was a mysterious guest who Ralsei had seemed utterly taken by.”

They couldn’t help but arch a brow at her wording. ‘Utterly taken by’? The two of them had partied together with Kris’ friends for a bit, that’s it! How good of an actor must he be if he’s already convinced gossiptubers that he’s halfway in love with them?

Letting out a nervous chuckle, they moved her hand away and asked, “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Popping their eyebrows up for emphasis. That did them no favours.

All six of her eyes did an exaggerated roll as she swiftly replaced one poking hand with another. Leaning in close, she narrowed them and gave Kris them an up-and-down. They’ve got no idea what she was looking for, but she didn’t seem to find it. Pursing her lips and letting out a prissy ‘humph,’ she answered their question with a question of her own. “Are you, or are you not aware of how odd it is for Prince to be truly charmed by anyone?”

“I mean—”

“It is extremely odd! Practically unheard of! Do you understand the enormity of the situation?” She interrupted, throwing her uppermost arms up as her middle ones began to gesticulate. “This could be the birth of another celebrity power couple! Like Shawn Mendez and Camila Cabello. Or Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries. Or Kim and Kanye. Or Kim and —”

“I get it!”

Pressing her lips together, she crossed all of her arms in a huff. “Hmph. What self-respecting journalist wouldn’t want to figure out who this knight was so they could report on it first? So, I did a little investigating.” Muffet’s eyes lit up the more she went on like a self-satisfied cat who had a mouse exactly where it wanted it. Forcing them to back up as she advanced on them step after step. Poking a spindly finger into their chest with every point. “I found out that the mysterious guest had left the party with known vlogger WithNoelle, and the streamer Berd1337. They, of course, are only in the same internet circle because they both come from the same small Oregon town. The same town where an up-and-coming TikTok musician lived and grew up. The same musician who had a little scandal with Ralsei last month. The same musician I know now for a fact is standing right in front of me. Don’t even try to deny it! If all that evidence isn’t enough, you wore the same armour you used to make your TikToks that night, yes?”

Fully pressed up against the snack rack, the metal shelf digging into their back, their hearts raced. Man, was it really that easy to find out everything about them? They should look into that at some point.

Now, though, all they needed to focus on was stilling their shaky limbs and slowing their frantically beating heart. What’s wrong with them? This was the whole point of going to Ralsei’s party in the first place! To get people intrigued. Get the rumour mill churning out something Uncle Wing Dings and Mr. Kaard could work with. And besides that, they’d faced scarier people than this tiny spider.

More than a little overwhelmed, they swallowed the knot in their throat and answered with a smirk, “Got me.”

Having been hanging on their potential answer like they were final exam results, Muffet squealed the bookstore down.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet and doing a little celebratory spider dance for herself. Sensing the possible ending to this batshit social interaction, they found that her happiness was semi-infectious. Their tight smile morphed into a tiny genuine one as they pushed off the snack rack. Adjusting their clothes, they took their eyes off her for only a moment to glance back at the chocolate bar situation. Their original goal was so close to fruition. Big mistake. They didn’t even feel her hands grasp their shirt before she tugged them back to attention. “You must let me interview you.”

“Uhhhh, ummm, ahhh,” They said, like a genius before their brain stalled so bad it did a hard reset. Defaulting to politeness as their dear Mother nagged into them, they beamed. “Sure, love to.” Dear Angel, up above, anything to get her to back off.

In a flurry of lavender arms and claret ruffles, Muffet seized their arm. They had just enough time to grab as many Hershey’s milk chocolate bars as they could before being stolen. Yanked through the store and over to behind the checkout counter. And, with a not-so-light push, she sat them in an uncomfortable plastic chair with a strength that betrayed her size.

Primly settling herself in a similar chair opposite them, she asked, “Is it alright if I record our conversation?”

They nodded, slumping a bit in theirs as they held their well-fought boon close to their chest. “Don’t see why not.”

“Parfaite. Maud, if you would be so kind?” Muffet asked the empty air to her left. But they soon knew better when a tiny spider scurried across the counter. Carrying a phone wrapped in a pink, cutesy case covered in dollar signs and handing it to her. Then, taking her phone with a ‘Merci,’ she planted a kiss on the spider before shooing it away.

Growing up surrounded by Monsters, they thought they’d seen every weird thing possible. Like watching Noelle, Dess and Aunt Clarice’s antlers crumble to dust every March and Uncle Rudy’s in November like clockwork. Or having an entire conversation with a Moldsmal who only spoke in wiggles and a Froggit who spoke in croaks and chirps. That though? They’d never seen anything like that before, and they had several questions they’d like to ask.

But as they were contemplating how to politely ask if all spider Monsters could talk to animal spiders or if she was their Overlord (A hereditary position?), Miss Arachne settled her phone on the counter beside them and started a recording.

“Aujourd’hui est Lundi dix-neuf Septembre et je suis parler avec Kris Dreemurr sur le fête d’anniversaire d’Ralsei Prince. D’accord, so, Kris,” She began. Speaking French with a sort of nasal drawl they were unfamiliar with but chalked up to her Cajun-ness. Fiddling with her phone a little more before turning to give them her full attention. Strange enough, her slower French morphed shifted into a quick, lively English. “Ralsei’s guest list was quite the exclusive one. Just how did you manage to acquire an invite? Did your scandalous chance encounter with the Disney Channel Star leave that good enough of an impression?”

It was such a low-stakes question, yet adrenaline spiked in their veins. Why does lying about their and Ralsei’s scheme never get any easier? Stomping down their lingering anxieties and doing their best to sound carefree, they answered, “I didn’t exactly get an invite, Miss. But I still wanted to give him my present anyway.”

“Oh, so your party-crashing streak continues?” She asked. Though, they knew better to answer with anything other than a hint of a devilish grin. Which spurred Muffet into giggling as she continued on. “You certainly went all out in the costume department for a party crasher.”

Perking up at the invitation to chat about their troublemaking, they sat up in their seat a bit more. “Well, had to blend in somehow. Best way not to get caught is to look like you’re supposed to be wherever you’re sneaking into.”

“Yes, like the ELAC campus?” She shot back with a flourish of a hand at the building they were in.

Their eyes widened, as did their grin. Arching a brow, they managed to ask, “As a… hypothetical location?”

“As a hypothetical location.” Muffet echoed slyly before mercifully moving on and not calling campus security on them. “But of course, you didn’t just “blend in.” You practically stole the show with your shining armour ensemble.”

“Guilty as charged.” They said with a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug.

“Not to mention your little show during Ralsei’s gift opening.”

Chuckling, they leaned back as they recalled avoiding Ralsei all night so that their reveal would be all the more melodramatic. They’d been one hundred percent committed to the mysterious knight bit. Mostly thanks to their Mother’s love of medieval period pieces.

Sat next to her as she knit or sewed; they were just as engrossed in the tv show or movie as she was. Though less for the chivalric romances and more for the sick suits of armour. If they had to be honest, they usually hated being the center of attention. Wild for someone who wanted to perform, right? But the only thing that calmed their anxieties was imagining that they were a character in one of her shows. It’s why they recorded all their videos in a wig and a ton of cyan blue body paint.

But all that was way too personal to spill to Muffet, so instead, they answered, “Heh, would you believe me if I said I was never a theatre kid? Thankfully, Ralsei hadn’t been too upset by my theatrics.”

Humming, she gave them a knowing smirk before pivoting towards their opinion on the general party. Food, music and entertainment, adherence to the theme, and location. All the usually interview stuff, or at least, what they assumed was the usual. The only other times they’d been asked this many questions was whenever they got caught troublemaking. Compared to that, this interview wasn’t nearly as bad as they thought it would be.

“Moving on, I would like to circle back to what had happened after the gift opening. When you had dashed off and Monsieur Prince had raced after, how did you spend your… one-on-one time with Prince?”

Never fucking mind. They take it back. This interview sucks.

“Well, umm, after giving Ralsei a run for his money,” They said. Every ounce of their confidence and cleverness abandoned them like that. Leaving them with clammy hands and a queasy smile. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they knew not even their Mother would let out a sensible chuckle at that pun, but give them a break. The road Muffet seemed to be steering them down wasn’t one they wanted to follow her down. “We spent the time catching up mostly.”

“Mostly?” She shot back at them, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Shit, shit, shit! They need to be more careful with their words. Having everyone think that they stuck their tongue down Ralsei’s throat last Saturday wasn’t a part of the plan. Was it? He wanted to look like a catch, not like he’s a fuckboi who slinks off during his own birthday party for a quickie.

“I mean, it’s not like we were even gone for that long. Really, he ran after me ‘cause he wanted to thank me for the gift and then we somehow got on the topic of vocal ranges and—”

“Are you aware of the fandom growing around your potential romantic relationship with Ralsei?”

The heat flooded their cheeks, no doubt leaving their entire face as red as their soul. How utterly ridiculous of them, seeing as only a couple of weeks ago they signed a contract because of this very topic. People think they’d be good together, think that they’re shippable or whatever. That’s the whole point! Hell, they’ve seen plenty of people on Twitter gossip about them. But for some reason having a real live person mentioning it turned them into a blushing mess.

Running both of their hands through their hair, they drew their bangs back enough for Muffet to catch a glimpse of their eyes. They shouldn’t have enjoyed how she had flinched at the sight of them, but they did. If only to put them on at least somewhat of even ground as they answered (with way more truthfulness than they’d meant to), “Can’t imagine why.”

Kudos to her, though. She did bounce back reasonably well. Not quite as well as Ralsei did but well enough. Clearing her throat, she smoothed out her bloomer-like shorts as she said, “You did have quite the meet-cute back in August. And your matching aesthetics complement each other. Kralsei has really taken off.”

Hold up.

“Huh?” They asked, scrunching their face up at the odd word unexpectedly clanging around in their head. “Kral-sei?”

“Oui, Kris and Ralsei. Kralsei. It’s your couple name, think Brangelina.” She answered with the air of a Valley girl twirling a lock of hair and barely holding back the urge to say ‘Like, Duh’ in their face.

Wait… Brangelina? Weren’t those two divorced? Messily? Or was that some other celebrity ex-couple? Ugh, how do celebrities who truthfully date and marry even go about breaking up?

It’d always seemed like a nightmare to navigate for regular people. Being a child of divorce taints a lot of things like that. But it’s unthinkable to be obligated to admit you don’t love someone anymore to millions of scandalized people. Thank the Angel that they and Ralsei won’t have to deal with any of that. Not having to deal with the complicated breakup feelings, only the fan reaction. But as long as they say it was mutual and that they were still friends, it would all work out nicely.

Right?

Right.

Chewing on their lip, they asked, “Couldn’t you just say Kris and Ralsei though? I mean some people might like us together but, you know, seems like a bit much.”

Another bout of Muffet’s giggles filled the air. “Oh, but it has less with you two actually dating and more with people thinking your imagined dynamic is sweet. A prince besotted with his beloved knight. Who, in turn, is so in love that when the prince asks them to jump, they ask how high. That sort of thing. Do you get it?”

“Starting to. I think?” They said, and yet a heavy lingering discomfort settled in their chest. While they could admit that they see the appeal of that dynamic, the lure soured in the pit of their stomach when they imagined themself as that knight. Maybe they should’ve acted more brashly during the party…

Surprisingly enough, Muffet’s near-permanent shrewd expression softened a touch at their answer. “In due time,” She said with a strange and sudden sympathy as she patted their arm. “But all it means right now is that I am obligated to ask whether you and Ralsei are in an exclusive relationship or not.”

Whew, at least they knew the answer to this one. With a sly smile, they said, “Now, there’s nothing going on between me and Ralsei. He’s just a friend. A friend that so happened to see me in my underwear one time. But what good friend hasn’t?”

Tapping her lip with a polished fingernail, she hummed in thought. “If you’re such good friends with him, can you answer me something?”

“Shoot.”

“I’m not sure if you know, but, Ralsei is quite the recluse.” Before their confused thoughts could spill from their lips, Muffet held up a hand. Asking them to keep silent for a moment longer. Reluctantly, they snapped their mouth shut. She went on, “Yes, he goes to events. And yes, he gives interviews and whatnot, but none of the people I’ve talked to could give me a straight, genuine answer. Not even people who would call him a friend. They all give me the same plain, boring answer. He’s sweet! He’s kind! He’s cute and thoughtful!”

Kris couldn’t help but lean back, eyes wide and brows raised as aggravation filled her voice and her hands began to gesture wildly.

Gripping their chocolate bars tighter, they asked, “What? Do you think he’s secretly evil?”

“No, but I do not think that’s all there is to him. So, I humbly ask you, Good Friend of his,” She said with all the grandeur she thought it deserved. “What is Ralsei Prince like?”

Furrowing their brows and pressing their lips together, they sat for a moment, plumbing the depths of their thoughts.

What is Ralsei like?

Never one to stan celebrities that hard, they hadn’t known about Ralsei’s reclusive tendencies at all. Sure, when they’d first met him, he’d been alone in a big empty house on a Saturday night. But they’d chalked that up to a one-off quiet night in for him. Thinking that, on any other weekend, he’d be hanging out with other famous people. Doing famous people shit. Living his best life! But if he’s not…

Thinking back, they compared the moments they’ve spent alone with him versus the moments they’ve seen him interact with others. And the differences were so stark they couldn’t believe it took them so long to see them.

From the glimpses they caught of him during his party, it was almost like having box seats to a stageplay. Or maybe it was more like going to one of those Murder Mystery dinner parties. Where the cast members mingle with the guests throughout the night.

Watching him flit and sweep through the castle from one group of partiers to another, his velvety green cape fluttering as he went, was enchanting. Working the room with an effortless air of grace and charm they could only dream of. He knew just when to laugh or grasp somebody’s hand. Knew exactly what to say to any given person and never let a conversation die a slow, painful death. Cutting them off at the perfect time with the best excuse for him to leave. If you told someone who’d never heard of him that he was actual royalty, they’d never doubt you. Not for a second.

But, now, looking back, it had all felt a bit rehearsed.

Not in a bad way, though. In the way, when watching a play or an interactive mystery, you know in the back of your mind that all of it was meticulously practiced. He was an actor, after all. Steeping into a character’s shoes and embodying them in every way was his job.

The thing is, he shouldn’t have been playing a role that night. He should’ve been himself.

Birthday parties are celebrations of the birthday person, yet Ralsei had hidden behind a mask all night. Well, not all night. He’d let it slip for a moment when they were alone in the courtyard. No matter what he says, they knew the two of them would make a pretty good Phantom and Christine. But did any of his guests know that? Do any of his fans? According to Miss Muffet, nobody knows him, not like they did.

So, when Muffet not so subtly coughed, bringing them back to the present, they knew what to say.

“Lovable? Yes.” They began, “But, completely innocent? No way.”

They knew they got her right where they wanted her when her eyes widened, and she leaned forward in her seat. Hands clasped together in her lap, her shoulders shimmied. “Oh ho, does the perfect Prince have a secret unruly side?”

Shaking their head a bit, they said, “Not quite. Have you watched any of the clips of my infamous live stream?”

“A few.”

“Everybody got so caught up in the lost virginity thing that they missed all his snarky comebacks. That is what he’s like. Not all the time, though, he is honestly very sweet, it’s just that… he can be a bastard when he wants to. You’re completely correct. He’s so much more than cute and kind, it’s a shame more people don’t know that.”

Muffet smiled, a strange look in her eyes. Resting her chin on her uppermost arms’ propped-up hands, she said, “Tell me more.”

So, they did.

On a roll now, they chat about he hadn’t even flinched when they’d stripped down to their skivvies. They’d, admittedly, been trying to intimidate him into letting them walkway still injured. But he’d been so stubborn and pushy about getting their wounds checked out. He even joked about how he’s seemingly unafraid of getting the cops called on him, saying that they’re not a problem for him. Wild, right?

At the end of their little rant session, they sat back and sighed a sigh of relief. A previously unknown weight lifted from their shoulders. Who knew that just talking about Ralsei relaxed their muscles and mind? What kind of witchcraft did that fluffy boy possess? Ugh, his power.

Chuckling at their stupid little joke, they missed their interviewer’s quiet pensiveness. Sitting back, one leg crossed over the other, Muffet sat silently for well after they finished speaking. Soon enough, though, she said, “You really like him, don’t you?”

Even though her words were oddly soft, they still caught them. That didn’t mean they understood them, though. What an odd question to ask them at this point. Wrinkling their nose, they answered anyways. “He’s my friend, of course, I like him.”

“But, of course. One last thing,” Muffet said. Giving her head a shake and straightening up in her seat, she got back into semi-professional interviewer mode. “You are an Angelist, yes?”

Now hyperaware of the Delta Rune on their ratty t-shirt, they nodded. “Culturally, for the most part, though. Don’t tell my Mother.”

Softly giggling, she let them peter out before looking them in the eye and asking, “Then do you believe in soulmates?”

That last word hit them like a brick.

Soulmates.

For the uninitiated folk and all the Angelist kids who weren’t paying attention that day in Church school, soulmates are the people the Angel has paired together. Fine-tuning both of your spirits so well that, when you meet, both of your souls “sing.” Rejoiced that they’ve found each other again on Earth.

It’s said that the Angel does this so that no one soul has to go through life completely alone. No matter what happens to you, there will always be someone in the world who’s with you to the (metaphorical) end. And if you’re “lucky” enough, you could run into this chosen someone and live happily ever after. What any of that means or looks like in real life? They had no clue. No one did, really. On the one hand, you could chalk it up to the possibility of actually finding your soulmate being extraordinarily rare. Or… you could be like them—

With a rueful smile, they answered, “Not in a million years.”

“Thank you so much for your time, cher,” Muffet said with a chirp after a beat of rumination. Using her lower hands to brush off her shorts as she stood up, she stuck her uppermost right hand out, expectant. “I should have plenty to use for my video.”

Giving in just this once, they stood as well and gave her hand a firm shake. “Great, I should—” A loud cough sounded off to their right, along with a chorus of grumbling. Whatever spell Muffet put on them was, all at once, broken. Revealing, with a glance to their side, a line of irritated customers glaring at the two of them. Whoops. “—Get the fuck out of here.”

“So sorry, folks. I’ll be but a moment.” She said in a well-worn customer service voice. Snatching the nigh-forgotten chocolate bars from them, she rang them up. “Kris?” She asked as she placed their choco bounty in their hands. Wrapping all six of hers around their two, Muffet gazed into their eyes. The inkling of sympathy returned. “I wish you the best of luck in your life. Here’s hoping I will be talking about you for years and years to come.”

Well, now that’s a sentiment they could get behind. Smirking, they signed off on it with a, “Hear, hear.”

For the first time since they signed that contract, they felt confident in their ability to pull off this ruse. And for maybe the first time in their life, they felt like they might’ve managed to charm someone on their own.

But their mini, internal celebration was cut short by a clamorous crash and an even louder voice. “KRIS! What the Hell are you doing?”

“That’s me.” They said with a frantic, wide grin. Slipping their hands out of Muffet’s, they rushed off towards the bookstore’s entrance. A pissed Susie was waiting for them with her fist resting against a now cracked pillar. Looking back as Susie began to chew them out for making her wait forever, they waved at her. “Bye, Miss Muffet.”

“Au Revoir, Silent Knight.” Muffet said, delicately waving back. “And make sure to check out my video on Wednesday, dearie!”

In the end, when Susie finally dragged them out of the bookstore and out to her truck, she didn’t let them drive it home. Something about the combination of their tardiness and their shit parking job. Either way, they were relegated to the passenger seat and whined about it the whole way back.

Slumped, staring out the window, they moodily munched on their well-deserved chocolate bars. Mumbling and grumbling to themself until the truck hit the same patch of traffic going back up Golden State. That’s when they put aside their differences and came together to bitch about LA traffic and even worse drivers than Kris. Soon moving on to how Susie’s date with Noelle went last night, and then they were back to being as thick as thieves.

Their laughs carried on the wind once they made it out of traffic and were back to flying down the freeway. Ironically (and not so ironically) singing along to mall punk anthems at the top of their lungs between bouts of cackles. A single thought formed amidst all the pop-punk chaos in the back of their mind.

How could anyone the Angel paired them with compare to what they had with Susie? With Noelle? Berdly? And hopefully, even Ralsei, too.

The Angel might know all the universe’s secrets. But they’d never know the joy and satisfaction of meeting a person and deciding you’d like to spend your days with them.

Only to realize that they did the exact same thing with you.

Didn't think I'd sneak another Undertale character in this fic, did you? Ha! Well, I'm a writer of many talents and one of them is canon character cameos in fics! Anyways, this is gonna be super short because I'm posting the next chapter a couple minutes after this one.

Thank you so much for getting to the end of this chapter, you guys are the best readers a writer could ask for!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

See you soon!

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[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: Yell at me. I deserve it. It's like I want to torture myself and everyone else around me ;)

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

Chapter 11: Views (Dylan POV)

“The Library Pub, huh?” Amelia asked as they walked up the side street around the corner from where they’d parked, heading toward the restaurant. “How’d you find this little spot?”

“Oh...ya know,” Dylan smirked, shuffling along beside her with his hands tucked in his pockets. “I have my ways.”

“Violet?” she asked, turning around and walking backward for a few steps in front of him.

He slowed down just a little. “Indirectly...I guess?”

“Guest binder?”

Dylan stopped. “Yes. You know about the guest binders?”

“Who do you think helped her make the guest binders?” She stopped too.

“Wait, really?”

“I’m a little offended you didn’t recognize my photographic eye,” she teased, grabbing his hand to pull him along.

“So you know this place then, huh?”

Amelia nodded when they reached the door that led up the staircase to the restaurant. “It happens to be one of my favorite places.”

“I guess I chose well, then,” Dylan smiled and then held open the door for her. “After you.”

Amelia’s cheeks flushed pink and she turned, heading up the stairs.

Dylan tried not to stare at her too much as she climbed, but it was hard not to with her just a few steps ahead. Her legs were something else, really. They were long and lean through the calves, but her thighs were thicker, and her hips sat aside her nice, round butt. Today had really been just full of spectacular views.

Continue Reading on AO3!

I’ve migrated the fic over there. If for some reason you’ve been reading along on tumblr and don’t have access to AO3, please let me know. With the content that will be coming in future chapters, I think it is better that it exist there. Thanks everyone! Trashy the Trash Panda

[maddiviner]

Could studyblogging jumpstart your personal grimoire?

A witch should be a lifelong learner. To practice effective magic, you must grow in new directions at a constant pace. A witch should approach magic with a sense of devotion to their own growth.

I’ve practiced magic and divination for two decades now. The most solid advice I can give? Start journaling. Start keeping a notebook. Start studying.

Witches who keep a notebook record their research and ideas about the Craft. This helps them build a wide repository of knowledge, right there when they need it.

The format and content of my notebooks changed a lot over the years. But they all helped me become the witch I am today. I devoted the bulk of these notebooks to my journey in magic, techniques to try, and lessons learned.

There are few people who haven’t studied. In school, we pore over geometry and classic literature in hot pursuit of elusive high marks. We spent time learning about our interests. Whether that’s witchcraft, philosophy, or astronomy, notes are helpful.

Everyone learns in a different fashion. Still, studying and learning about the world remains with us from our first breath, to the last. My Craft took leaps forward when this dawned on me. I’d always enjoyed school. I realized that I could apply the same study techniques to witchcraft and the occult. 

What’s studyblogging?!

As a regular user of both Tumblr and Instagram, I soon came across the studyblogging trend. 

Caitlyn Tiffany of The Verge describes the studyblogging phenomenon as “a beautiful, stressful wonderland.” An apt description! But what is a studyblog? 

Studyblogging hashtags like #studyblr and #studygram  are popular (on Tumblr and Instagram, respectively).  

For someone just coming across the phenomenon, though? It can be difficult to penetrate this strange world. Expect calligraphic chaos, a plethora of highlighters, and fine-tuned aesthetics. 

Studyblogging focuses on the quest for knowledge. In practice, studyblogs share tips and handwritten notes on various subjects. Studybloggers encourage each other to be the best learners they can be. 

The photos of notes, assignments, and other tasks make up the bulk of the phenomenon. Studyblogs often feature photos of elaborate calligraphy and heavy illustration in note form.

Expect to see self-made diagrams of mitochondria. Essay outlines on postcolonial theory with nigh-perfect bubble lettering. Vast, illustrated mind-maps of Shakespearean themes. It's a big community, and there's room for a lot. Room for witches? I think so!

Studyblogging for Witches

In witchcraft, our grimoires function much like a non-magical student's study notes. The content, and some of the form, may differ, but the principles are the same.

The quest for an aesthetically-pleasing grimoire stymies many a beginner (and not-so-beginner) witch. The wise remind us that our grimoires needn’t be complex. Functionality is more important than aesthetics in most cases. 

That said, there is something worthwhile about keeping a grimoire that suits you. A  grimoire can speak to your soul, both by way of aesthetic appeal and your own abilities. For some of us, this might mean a lavishly-illustrated tome. Others might find minimalist styles more resonating. It varies.

The truth is that yes, your grimoire needn’t look a certain way or be perfect. Still, a level of aesthetic appeal can help with information retention. It can also boost your magical productivity. Humans respond in an intuitive fashion to that which they consider beautiful.

Aesthetics can help to put you into a liminal state. Liminality can be a powerful tool in self-improvement. This, in turn, is useful not only for normal studying, but also for the Craft itself. 

If you see art as part of your life path, you might find that approaching your grimoire as a work of art helpful. Part of this means realizing that it won’t be perfect, but also always striving to learn and grow.

Studyblogging, as a community, showcases a lot of excellent notebook and journal-keeping techniques. Studybloggers often provide tutorials and guides to effective learning methods. 

This is, of course, all while celebrating the joy of learning itself. Traditional studying methods can apply to magical topics. I have found that the techniques of the studyblogger can help with keeping a useful grimoire.

Ask your intuition if studyblogging is right for you!

Will studyblogging help you? For some students, lurking or keeping a studyblog inspires and motivates them. It also increases accountability. By posting their goals and progress, studybloggers have an impetus to progress. 

In a way, it’s a bit like livestreaming a video game - it makes the experience more challenging, and also more exciting. The difference, of course, is that, in this case, your game is learning!

And the notes? Many find the calligraphy, fancy scripts, and illustration soothing. It can be a way of making otherwise impenetrable subjects more captivating.

Without a doubt, aesthetic presentation improves information retention for some people. Humans have a positive response to beautiful imagery. 

Some folks find the gorgeous landscape of studygram and studyblr overwhelming and anxiety-inducing. Gorgeous calligraphy notes, after all, aren't easy for most people. 

For some, posting about your studies on a blog might only increase worry. We're all different, and studyblog techniques are hardly universal in form.

You should use your intuition to decide whether to dip into this community. Ask yourself whether an audience will help your quest for deeper knowledge. 

Will you feel empowered, or nervous about it? If you struggle with comparing yourself to others, you might find studyblogging discouraging. 

I myself am somewhat of a perfectionist. For me, though, the artistic aspects of note taking and information illustration soothe me. Studyblogging suits me, but will it help you?

You should tailor your learning experience to your own strengths. If that means studyblogging won’t help you, be honest with yourself and don’t chase the anxiety of it all. Find another method of learning. 

Browse some existing studyblogs - I recommend EmmaStudies and StudyQuill. Ask yourself how it makes you feel. Do the images and writing seems inspirational? 

Would you enjoy sharing your work with the world? Studyblogging might become an ally on your magical path!

Taking the Plunge

So, how do you start a studyblog? How do you get involved in the community?

The most popular studyblogging platforms are Instagram and Tumblr. Instagram lends itself to posting tons of pictures and very short-form posts. Tumblr favors longer prose. 

When I started studyblogging, I created both a studyblr and a studygram. I recommend starting a new account on the site of your preference for studyblogging.  

Follow some existing studybloggers as a way of introducing yourself to the community! Also, follow the hashtags #studyblr and #studygram, to start.

What to study?

Studyblogging features students focused on all kinds of topics. I’ve been studyblogging for over a year. In case you’re wondering, it's rare for someone to complain about my witchy take on studyblogging. 

You’ll find the studyblogging community very welcoming in most cases. But what will you study? I always recommend witches focus on only one or two things they’d most like to learn at a time.

Studyblogging lends itself well to in-depth topical research. This can mean learning the signs and language of astrology or the basics of gemstone magic.

Topics like shadow work or personal Tarot readings might be a bit too personal to blog about. Those might be better suited to normal, private journaling rather than a blog. My own studyblogging tends to focus on my writing preparation, astrology, and Tarot. 

Though I’ve been reading for over twenty years, there is always something new to learn about Tarot. Astrology, like Tarot, is a lifelong discipline. Though I’ve only recently made my first steps into it, there is much to learn. My writing, especially the book I’m working on, has its own notebook.

Possible topics include, but are in no way limited to:

Crystals and gemstones

Astrology

Spellcraft

Mythology and legends

Magical history

Energy work techniques

Seasonal and Lunar cycles

Herbology

Tarot, Lenormand, or oracle deck divination!

It is important to choose topics that interest you in a personal way. At the same time, try not to get distracted. Witchcraft includes many paths of study. Try not to jump from topic to topic - finish what you start!

Supplies

If you’re in school, you may already have a lot of the tools necessary for studying. If not, you can get them for an affordable price in most cases.

Paper matters!  You'll want a notebook or loose leaf binder paper. For hardbound notebooks, you can’t go wrong with a Leuchtturm 1917.  That popular notebook boasts dot grid paper, includes page numbers and a place for an index. 

Seeking something more aesthetic? Check out the Paperblanks series from Peter Pauper Press. You might also like the notebooks you can order from Citrus Bookbindery. For me, a binder (I use A5 size) works best, because I can add and remove pages as necessary. 

You can find some great guides out there about organizing grimoires. Much of that advice applies here. Your notebooks will soon fill the role of a grimoire.  They will contain your notes, research, and more.

It is usually best to have one notebook (or binder) for each subject you’re studying. As you move forward, you’ll have a collection of grimoire notebooks on different topics.

You’ll also need pens or pencils. Really, you only need one. If you feel like getting fancy, you can get multicolored fineliners. I prefer Sakura Micron pens. They use waterproof micropigments that don't bleed when you highlight over your writing.

Highlighters are fun! These add color to your notes and help emphasize the important things. If you want nice highlighters, I recommend Mildliners. Any highlighters will do, though - choose colors that appeal to you. I recommend several different colors, because that allows you to color-code your notes.

Plan!

Plan out, at least in a rough fashion, how you’d like to organize your  notes. This can be rather freeform, or complex, depending on your preference. 

When I began my astrology journey, I knew what sections I would include in my stars grimoire. I also created a rough map of the path I’d take in my research. 

I began with the simple Zodiac signs. I then moved forward through the planets, houses, aspects and transits. My organization, loose though it was, benefited from my use of a binder which allowed me to add and remove pages. 

No matter the notebook, it is important to have, somewhere, a rough idea of where you’re going.

You will also find it important to set attainable, realistic, and measurable goals. For me, this was things like memorizing the astrological house system. I set the goal of reading my astrology textbooks completely and summarizing them. This kind of goal leads to personal accountability.

I also created a set of astrological flashcards for my Tarot-related work. It can be motivational to post your goals on your studyblog in some form. Then, you can provide your followers with regular updates on your progress.

Start posting!

Once you feel ready, go ahead and introduce yourself to the studyblogging community! An introductory post, explaining who you are, your goals, and methods, will help others get to know you. 

I recommend tagging your posts with studyblogging hashtags (mentioned above). Also include some witchcraft-related tags! This will help you connect with other witches who might be helpful on your journey.

Don’t be shy when it comes to posting photographs (taken with a phone or other camera) of your notes! You might not feel that your notes are as neat or pretty as other bloggers. Regardless, they’re unique and might resonate with others!

If you’re taking notes about a very personal topic, like shadow work, you might want to forgo the pictures. Some bloggers obfuscate or blur potentially sensitive parts of their notes. You’ll likely find nothing but encouragement for sharing your research topics, though!

Some studybloggers will also photograph their study space. Some of us even use photos of fun things like their breakfast or pets to illustrate their updates. If pictures don’t suit you, post regular bits about your life and your progress towards your goals. 

Get to know other bloggers! This is important, whether they’re witches or from the studyblogging community. Both can be helpful! 

Watch or read some of the tutorials you’ll find in the studyblogging community. These focus on things like calligraphy, organization, and memory techniques. 

While your notes needn’t have fancy headings, calligraphy can be fun to learn. I don’t currently use calligraphy in my notes, but am learning it on the side, so to speak. 

I find it relaxing, and you might enjoy it too. If not, don't feel bad - not everyone uses fancy handwriting, and that's okay!

Moving Forward

If, after a few weeks, you find yourself really vibing with studyblogging, stick with it! Most witches would agree that there’s no real wrong way to be a witch. To me, though, there are wrong (and right) ways for you yourself to learn and grow in your craft. 

You need to find what works for you, what adheres to your soul and keeps you connected. If studyblogging ends up helping you, and I hope it will, keep going! 

After a while you might find yourself ready to move onto another topic. We all end up “graduating” forward onto other subjects. You’ll quickly find that your grimoires will be an invaluable record. 

They will contain not just your gathered information, but also your intuition, insight, and more. Cherish your notebooks - they will come to reflect your essence!

[fionacreates]

10, 22, 27, 28, 36 listen I just want ANSWERS also pick a question yourself, for fun 😘

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Yes. When I read something contemporary set, either non fiction, or fictionised versions of true scenarios that show me what it's like to live a life that's not my own, they can really stick in my head because these are people's lives.

Don't get me wrong I get sad when I'm reading a fantasy story and someone dies or whatever the emotional cadances are. But when you read something like Monday's Not Coming by Tiffany D Jackson, or Nothing to Envy they stay with you. (As they should.)

I also read A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes, and The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker. Both these books reframe The Illiad and Trojan mythology through the eyes of the women. They are contemporary books, so they definately have a contemporary point to make, but as a woman myself who very much grew up enjoying hero tales, this reminds us starkly of what it really meant to be anything other than a god or a hero in these tales and every time I read anything of the Illiad retelling variety, especially when they very much dismiss the women in the stories (as the originals did) I can't help but be reminded of the other stories hidden behind the heroes. Even if it's all a lot more fictional than my first examples.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

I do my initial writings entirely by hand. When I went through Art School with drawing I'm very much used to using a sketchbook as a place to play and screw up. I enjoy the process of writing with a nice pen in a nice book. I number my pages and index at the front what in development stories are on what pages. I then index my story outlines with "you can find the script for this part on page XX"

I have one book just for Ladies of the Knight (it's my second) and another for all the in development projects.

When a notebook is done it is labeled and put on a shelf with my other stuff so I can go back to them.

THEN when I've played and rewritten things as often as need by, I sit down at a computer and type it up into a script template I made in google docs (and then copy and paste it to a word doc and save it like 5 places!) and do my final edits.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Aethelburg. She plays the position of the antagonist, and it would be so easy to let her slip into just being the petty rich pretty girl. And while I want people to see her that way at first, that's not actually what she is, but she walks a fine line.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Literally delightful is George. Because she has no shame about what she wants or being so enthusiastic. As someone who spent a lot of their teen years afraid of what people thought of my dreams, to write someone so open with their desires, and how hard they're working to get them, is very freeing.

A spiteful delight is Serafina. She comes from a place close to my own brain, but she doesn't stop herself being mean or blunt whereas I definately care more about not offending my friends and family. It's also very freeing to let her be a blunt asshole.

34. (A question picked myself) Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

I don't know what this is.

I make comics.

Prose is weird and terrifying.

What is a comma and why is it from Oxford?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

Ah see I think this is excellent advice but very misinterprited.

My characters all come from pieces of my own personality that I fragment out and build upon. So I KNOW them all and how they might react, even if I don't know what it is to be an elite athlete, or to ride a horse, or live in the medieval fantasy world I built.

Writing what you know is not just writing an autobiography about a comics creator in their mid 30s living in the UK, it's knowing that when I was 15 I wish I'd been less afraid, so what if I made a character that did that.

You can create something as vastly different from your own experiences as you think you can get, but if you can't find the connection of why that's interesting to you (and thus probably your readers) it's going to seem hollow and fake.

And for what you don't know. Research.