#Refillable Custom Diary

[akshayaquapri]

2025 Diary

Custom Diary Printing: Name or Message Printed Diaries

Add some richness in your life with our 2025 Custom Diary printing, a formal yet functional tool designed for those who are basically professional; it can bring such quality and personalization. This Custom Diary happens to be an ideal choice for personal usage, corporate gifts, and promotional exercises; this diary can bring functionality along with style.

2025 Diary: Features and Benefits:

A5 Size:

Such a diary has been perfectly made with an A5 size that easily fits into the pocket, showing great convenience in using it for office work and could be taken easily when going out. Proper writing space is provided without being bulgy.

Built to Last:

A hard cover and robust binding make this 2025 Planner. This 2025 Planner is built to endure the daily grind, so your diary remains intact with all your notes, plans, and memories into the years to come.

Ample Writing Space:

More than 190 pages of writing space in this calendar 2025. As with this many pages, it is probably one of the best choices for anyone needing a consistent daily journal or weekly agenda.

Fully Customizable Cover:

The cover of this Customised Diary is totally customizable. Include vibrant colors, photographs, and branding. This feature will be apt for businesses that are looking to create a Customized Diary with Logo. It’s also perfect for individuals looking for a Customised Diary with Name to add that personal touch.

https://quapri.in/product/2025-diary/

[leatherjournalcover]

How Rustic Town Journal Covers Add Elegance to Your Daily Writing

Introduction:

Writing in a journal is more than just a routine task; it's an intimate and reflective practice that deserves a touch of elegance. Rustic Town Journal Cover offer the perfect blend of sophistication and functionality, transforming your daily writing journal into a refined experience. In this article, we will explore how these beautifully crafted covers add a layer of elegance to your journaling routine and elevate the simple act of putting pen to paper.

Exquisite Craftsmanship:

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Timeless Aesthetic:

The design of Rustic Town Journal Covers is inspired by timeless elegance. The natural beauty of genuine leather, combined with minimalist design elements, creates a cover that is both classic and contemporary. Whether you prefer a sleek, modern look or a vintage-inspired style, Rustic Town offers a range of designs that complement any aesthetic. This timeless appeal ensures that your leather journals cover will never go out of fashion, remaining a cherished accessory for years to come.

Personalized Sophistication:

One of the standout features of Rustic Town Collection Journal Covers is the ability to personalize them. You can choose from various leather types, colors, and finishes to create a cover that reflects your personal style. Some covers even offer customization options such as embossed initials or custom stitching. This level of personalized journal adds a sophisticated touch to your journal writing, making it uniquely yours and enhancing your writing journal experience.

Functional Elegance:

Rustic Town Journal Covers are not just about journal cover looks; they are designed with practical elegance in mind. Thoughtful features such as pen loops, card slots, and interior pockets ensure that your essentials are always within reach. The sturdy construction and secure closure protect your journal from damage, while the supple leather exterior provides a comfortable journal for men writing surface. This combination of functionality and elegance makes your daily writing journaling notebook sessions more enjoyable and efficient.

Inspiring Creativity:

A beautiful leather journal cover can inspire creativity and elevate your writing process. The tactile experience of holding a finely crafted leather cover, coupled with the visual appeal of its design, creates a conducive environment for creativity. Whether you're jotting down thoughts, drafting a story, or sketchbooks, a Rustic Town Journal Cover enhances the overall experience, making each journal writing session a moment of inspiration and pleasure.

Conclusion:

Rustic Town Journal Covers bring a touch of elegance and sophistication to your daily writing routine. From their exquisite craftsmanship and timeless aesthetic to personalized options and practical features, these leather journal covers are designed to enhance both the look and feel of your journaling notebook experience. By choosing a Rustic Town leather journal cover, you not only protect your leather journals but also elevate the simple act of writing into a refined and enjoyable practice. Embrace the elegance of Rustic Town Journal Cover and transform your daily writing journal into a luxurious experience.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Three: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, murder, serious illness, needles [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you SO much that he’s disgusting about it. He’s extra delusional. Anakin doesn’t love drama HE IS the drama. He's still a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: June 27th

I came to the diner tonight, I love to see you wait tables. You’re so kind and sweet, even to the assholes and shitheads that don’t deserve to breathe your air. Your beautiful smile, those pretty eyes and how you bat those long lashes, that bell-like giggle you pull for those nasty old men’s jokes.

I know it’s not real, but it’s fun to watch you pretend baby. And just as fun to listen to your annoyed retelling of your night when you get home. Gods I could just listen to you talk for hours. Watching your face change as you speak, the acute movements of your eyebrows and lips that tell me how you really feel.

You’re just like me, more than you know.

I ordered some coffee, sat at the bar one of those red spin-y stools, and listened to your sweet lilt tell lie after lie to your customers.

You’re a busy, busy girl aren’t you princess?

Sorry for the messy writing, it was difficult not to laugh as I wrote these little white lies of yours.

1. Saving up money for a car: true, but doesn’t get you good tips

2. This is your second job and life on your own is just real hard: I’m amazed that this one works as well as it does, really pulling on those old lady heartstrings huh?

3. ‘Sorry guys, I’m just- having a hard day. You understand right?’ *sniffle* the only thing those guys understand is the masculine urge to stop a girl from crying and if shoving a few extra bills under their dirty plate makes your day ‘better’, they’re gonna do it.

I don’t know how you continue to use that one on those poor fools, it’s always the same few guys too. They really think you’re something special huh?

You are of course, very special. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that you’re full of shit. I know for a fact you had a really good day. I was there.

You cheeky little minx.

4. Your mom is out of work and you’re helping her out: your mom is out of work, but you’re definitely not helping her out. She wouldn’t take your money if you offered it. (You wouldn’t offer it over your dead body.)

Can’t blame you for this little lie though, your mom really is a piece of shit. Exploit that bitch all you want, she deserves it. I’ve seen those nasty posts she made about your friend. All that because he’s gay?

Oh no! It’s contagious! It’s the vaccines! Gluten!

Come on lady, it’s 2023.

5. you’re getting married! I fucking wish. But, not yet princess, you won’t need to worry about anything when it’s time for that. Thats what I’m here for, I’ll make sure you get everything you want.

6. ‘It’s on the house honey.’ I was so jealous hearing this one for the first time. You’re just absolutely rotten aren’t you? Refills are free.

You’re perfect for me and you don’t even know it.

Diary Entry: June 28th

Angelic. Cherubic. God-kin.

A biblical beauty if I’ve ever seen one.

The way your hair creates a halo around your face. Tendrils gracing the soft contours of your cheeks, the twitch of your nose when you shift just alittle too much and a strand tickles it. The subtle pull or purse of your lips that tells me you’re deep in the land of dreaming.

Sleep is one of the most basic human needs. It’s not meant to be as glorified as you make it, but somehow you do.

It’s intimate. They way your breathing slows and your body melts into the soft hands of sleep. It’s an event that I’ve been graciously given the opportunity to witness.

It was so, so, so worth waiting for.

SleepyTime Tea, a cute name and of course perfect for my purposes. You drank a cup almost every night. It’d been on my mind for a while and I figured… it couldn’t hurt to open it up and help you get an even better sleep.

Now that I’ve had the privilege of seeing an angel at rest… well I don’t think I could ever witness anything more breathtaking.

Except for maybe your sweet little pussy.

I checked and double checked the measurements on those sleeping pills I promise. I would never ever hurt you sweetheart. I was so anxious, trying to make sure I got the mixture perfect.

It worked like a dream. Didn’t it?

Damn right it did. Worked well enough that I was able to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead before I left.

I also did you a little favor or two as well while I was there. It wasn’t a completely selfish visit.

I replaced an old beat up scrunchie, it was past time for you to retire it in my opinion. Now it’s serving a better purpose: squeezing the base of my cock while I fuck my fist to the sounds of your desperate moans, both of us needy for a never quite satisfying finish. If only I had the courage to open that door.

You need a man sweetheart. You need me. Those toys of yours just don’t hit the spot for you do they? Hurts my heart that it takes you so long… and I know it’s not on purpose. I can tell the difference.

Nothin’ can mimic that sinful feel of flesh on flesh.

I took out your bathroom trash, I know you hate doing that. And maybe I accidentally knocked your toothbrush off the sink.

Sue me.

But I promptly rectified the issue, I just so happened to notice you were out of brush-head refills a few days ago and came prepared. You’re welcome baby.

I also purchased the same brand of brush that you have.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Date:

June 29th

You woke up, rolling out of bed at 9:30. An absolutely ridiculous time to be awake on what was meant to be a lazy stay at home day. But alas, you are a good friend, and good friends go through with their plans.

Even if you made those plans a month ago and completely forgot them.

Your cat laced it’s way through your legs while you stood on unsteady feet. You’ve really gotta stop with the caffeine, it’s definitely not normal for someone as young as you to wake up with the shakes. But you’re a creature of habit and an absurd amount of sugar and caffeine were included in those habits.

Staying true to those habits you made your way to the bathroom across the hall, absentmindedly grasping at air for a few seconds before realizing your toothbrush wasn’t where you always left it. With a frustrated groan you looked around and saw that someone… or rather something had knocked it into the floor.

“Boogie!” You turned around and made your way to the living room, interrupting her morning routine by scooping her up and forcing her to face the music.

“How dare you.” You whispered, trying to pull out a stern voice. “I don’t have any new tooth brush heads. What am I supposed to do you little shit?”

You bent down, picked it up and popped the replaceable head off, tossing it into the… empty trash can? When did you take out the trash?

Whatever. Focus. “You better hope I have a spare regular one.” You shot a nasty glare at your cat who sat unbothered on the bathroom counter.

You searched through the cabinet below the sink and through all the drawers and found none. Not even that travel one from last year’s vacation. Finally you opened up the medicine cabinet-mirror combo and was pleasantly surprised but also annoyed, to see that you did actually have a replacement.

“Well shit.” You scoffed, “I should’ve just checked there first.”

Next on the list was a giant tumbler of coffee and a hit of your vape for breakfast. Delicious.

You searched in the catch-all drawer in your kitchen for a hair band, not finding any of the small black ones you settled for a stray scrunchie that lived in this drawer specifically for circumstances like this.

Grabbing the light blue silk scrunchie you went to slide it on your wrist and gather your hair but stopped mid movement. No sharpie mark. You could’ve sworn last time you wore this it had a sharpie mark on it from being trapped in the drawer with a cap-less marker. Weird, but not weird enough to care about.

With your caffeine withdrawal taken care of and your morning duties finished, you slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed your small backpack and walked to the gym two blocks away. Your wonderful and lovely, much more active friend had invited you to a yoga class to meet ‘someone who isn’t a lazy bastard’.

Which… doesn’t really make any sense considering your last boyfriend liked to lift weights but couldn’t bear to lift a finger to help you.

But you love Luke, and Luke loves to play matchmaker. So you’d suffer through this with a smile. It couldn’t hurt and it might be fun, if all else fails at least you got to hang out with your friend and giggle at him drooling over the ‘guy with this sexy scowl, big broad shoulders, oh my god he’s so soft but like in a buff way it’s insane.’.

“Lukey!” You jogged up to him where he was waiting for you outside the gym.

“You’re late.” He stated sternly despite the little smile curving his lip.

“No I’m not. It’s 10:20.” You scoffed.

“Yes and class starts at 10:30.” He retorted.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but 20 comes before 30.” You said feigning concern as you touched his forearm while walking inside.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “I mean you’re late to meet this guy I was telling you about!”

He shoved you gently past the various equipment and to a smaller room with mirrors along one wall. He very conspicuously pointed toward a younger guy with… a mullet?

“You’re joking.” You gasped. “Luke I swear to god you’ve gotta be kidding.” You squeaked smacking his arm.

“What?!” He squealed, pulling his arms up to his chest and curling in on himself. “Stop I didn’t invite you to kickboxing! Ow!”

“A dude with a mullet?” You glared at him.

“Wait till he turns around, the mullet will be forgiven I swear.” He said, holding up his hands in an offering of peace.

That peace treaty was immediately ripped to shreds when Luke loudly dropped his metal water bottle on the hard floors, a smile that could beat the devil’s smirk on his face.

The guy whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in concern, soft greenish tinted blue eyes taking a moment to glance over you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, a soft accent lacing his voice as he walked over to you.

Is it strange to say that a man with a mullet is… graceful? Yes, it is.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You answered quickly, not missing the snicker that Luke made when he kicked the water bottle over to you.

You bent down and picked it up, holding it with a grip that would surely snap your officially ex-best friends neck in half.

“Here let me take this for you.” The blonde haired stranger said, reaching out for your backpack and for some reason you let him take it.

He just… exuded a calming energy. No wonder he likes yoga, he’s probably the most zen person you’ve ever met. Everything about him was soft and comforting. His voice, his beard, even his knuckles as they ghosted across your arm when he grabbed your bag.

“Th-thanks?“ You said in a statement that sounded more like a confused inquiry.

You followed him and Luke inside, the blood draining from your formerly flushed cheeks when he unrolled your yoga mat in the front row. What kind of cosmic curse has Luke unleashed? You shot him a look to burn through brick but he just seemed giddy as if you weren’t planning on disposing him in the sewer after this.

“I’m Ben, your instructor. Luke told me you’d be coming today, he mentioned you’ve never taken a class like this before?” He looked over at you, an understanding smile on his face.

THE INSTRUCTOR?

“R-right yeah. No, I’ve never taken a yoga class before.” You shook your head and introduced yourself in return, holding out your hand for a hand shake and being utterly shocked at Ben’s reaction.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s alright darling.” He laughed softly, enveloping you in a warm embrace that could smelt iron. It certainly made you malleable, maybe even alittle bit melty.

The kicker though? A kiss to the side of your mouth.

You blinked at the audacity, did he just-? But as he pulled back you realized it wasn’t a creepy thing… it was a friendly thing. He just greets everyone that way because he’s a genuinely kind person. You knew that to be true because he turned and did the same to Luke, ending his with a firm pat to his shoulder.

A little green monster clawed it’s way through your stomach at the sight, but you drowned it quickly with the use of your knowledge as a sane person. You don’t know this guy. Luke brought you here because of this guy, he’s not after him, he’s after Beefy McBeef in the corner. You don’t know him, you’re purely getting jealous going off the fact that he is pretty and the realization that you’re not special.

You spent the rest of your time thinking peaceful thoughts to chase away the images of Luke’s tiny pea brain being squished betwixt your fingers for this horrible idea of his, while failing many attempts to mimic the variety of poses and stances Ben showed the class.

Even Beefy McBeef was doing better than you, and you could definitely see why Luke had his sights set on him. Masculine, but not in an intimidating way. He’s right, he’s soft but buff.

After class ended Luke insisted on dragging you over to Ben to say goodbye.

“Thanks, I enjoyed the class.” You said awkwardly, forcing a polite smile.

“Oh I’m so glad, I was hoping you would.” Ben said, a bright smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’d love for you to come back next week.” He said sincerely, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze that made your mouth dry.

“I’m not super sure that yoga is my thing, but I’ll definitely think about it.” You smiled, surely he’s just being nice. Like he was earlier.

“Well if yoga isn’t your thing, I’m sure we can find something that is, hmm?” He chuckled, ripping a scrap of paper from his class schedule and scribbling his number down.

“O-oh.” You blushed. That was the smoothest pickup line you’d ever heard… you couldn’t even be mad about it. “Thank you, I’ll… text you later?” You said unsure about your own words.

“No rush darling,” he gave you a warm smile that matched the softness of his hand that took yours and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

When he pulled back he’d somehow snuck the slip of paper into the palm of your hand, he left you there buffering. You turned slowly to look at Luke who was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Your turn.” You said sternly, nodding toward Mr. McBeef.

“No.” Luke said with an air of finality, scooping up his bag and spinning on his heel toward a few of his class friends.

Luke so kindly helped you make a fool of yourself. It’s only fair that you return the favor. You marched over to Beefy with a sweet smile.

“Hey!” You said, introducing yourself to him.

“Hey little lady.” He chuckled, taking your hand for a handshake, his palm dwarfing yours. “Names Han.”

“Han. Suits you.” You added with a small smile.

“So, Han. You know Luke?” You said, nodding in his direction.

“Y-yeah I do,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervousness you didn’t expect. “Why?”

“Luke is- he’s alittle shy.” You said in a hushed tone. “He’s been talking about you an awful lot.”

“Me?” Han questioned, a downturned grin creeping up his lips as his eyes darted between you and your friend who’d migrated across the gym.

“Yeah, you.” You laughed, “he’s got a massive crush.” You gave him an accomplished grin.

“H-he does?” He gulped, starting to get red in the cheeks. “He’s hardly ever spoken to me.”

“Like I said, he’s shy.” You reminded him gently. “You should go talk to him.”

“Yeah… I will.” He smiled, standing up and placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Go get ‘em Beefy McBeef.” You said in a tone so normal that he almost didn’t notice.

“What did you call me?” He laughed.

“Beefy McBeef.” You shrugged, unable to hide your devious smile. “that’s what Luke calls you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Han laughed, big and hearty, Luke turning his head with a jealous scowl until he realized he was laughing with you and it morphed into a mask of pure panic.

“Oh yes he does.” You said firmly. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked.

“Sure babe.” He laughed, still recovering.

“Introduce yourself to him as Beefy McBeef.” You said with pleading eyes.

“Seriously?” He laughed, almost a giggle if you could consider a guy like him a giggler. “What’d he do to you?”

“Just trust me when I say he deserves it.” You said sincerely.

“Can do.” He shook his head with a snort and made his way over to Luke.

“Hey, Luke.” He said, a slight tease in his tone. “Just wanted to introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and watched with amusement as Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Good. You thought. He deserves alittle embarrassment after the way he forced you into conversation with Ben.

“Beefy McBeef.” Han said, struggling to contain his laughter as he shook Luke’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You watched from behind a nearby pillar as Luke turned fire truck red. He frantically searched for you until he spotted you with a massive grin and waggling fingers.

“I’ll kill you.” He threatened but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Sure you will Lukey.” You said with a laugh, running over to the wall where you’d propped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Blowing Luke a kiss as you walked out of the gym.

After returning home you showered and sat down on the couch, resigning yourself to rotting on the couch. You’d done your good deed for the day, two actually:

1. attending a social event

2. helping Lukey talk to Han

You’d also done your one terrible deed for next few months. It’s never intentional that you do something bad, except this time it was. But was it really all that terrible if it got Luke what he wanted? Nope.

Add that to the good deeds list then.

3. embarrassing Lukey while helping him talk to Han

All’s fair in love and war.

Speaking of potential love and possible war, you rummaged through your bag to fish out that phone number, you even dumped out all the contents and searched your clothes as well.

It was no where to be found and you were actually kind of bummed about it. You can’t go ask for his number after all that, that’s just… embarrassing.

Shit.

Diary Entry: June 29th

Sweetheart.

If I knew you didn’t love Lukey, I’d have been scraping him off the sidewalk right about now. That little twerp was trying to set you up with someone else.

I know it’s not his fault. He’s being a good friend, he just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t know about me and that’s okay, it’s all okay.

But god, could he have picked a worse guy? I mean… really?

*Ooh look at me and my beautiful luscious locks.* GAG.

I could tell he was making you uncomfortable so I got rid of that little paper as quickly as possible. I would’ve hated for you to have the reminder of that fucking creep. The way he kissed your hand? What the hell was that?

So, I slipped it out of your bag and stayed around to listen to your sinister revenge plot.

I’ll say it again baby, you’re more like me than you know.

Ps. Beefy McBeef? Please.

Diary Entry: July 1st

I’m not an unreasonable guy baby. Really I’m not, but you’re on your phone so much. It just really bugs me you know? We don’t spend quality time together like we should.

I want you to dance around and sing. I want you to lay in the living room floor and color. I to watch you suck ass at MarioKart and laugh when you get frustrated and scrunch your nose.

I want to watch you read so I can read aloud to you, with my e-book copy. I want to watch The Witcher with you, I love that show. Shits cool as fuck, sword fights are so awesome I’ll ignore the fact that you only watch it for Geralt.

He’s not real and I am. So fuck it, can’t hurt to fantasize. I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if I said you couldn’t.

Anyway, sorry I’m rambling.

Are you okay? You’re just… quieter. Is it something I’ve done?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I think I’ve figured it out sweet girl, I did some online research and replayed some footage. You’ve not been taking your birth control like you should. Come on baby you gotta remember to take it on time alright? Skipping it and taking it out of routine will mess you all up and we can’t have that.

I’ll try my best to remind you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You know me, I’m always worried.

Just… I’m gonna need to borrow your phone so that I can install some software for you. I’m just alittle concern that you’re hiding something from me princess. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Diary Entry: July 2nd

That SleepyTime tea is a lifesaver.

God I just feel so relieved knowing that I can monitor you. I swear it’s not in a weird way, I just needed to make sure you were in a good headspace you know?

Your search history is so funny. I makes me happy to know you’re just as goofy as me. It also makes me happy that you’ve not searched anything concerning.

Your socials are clean. Your camera roll is full of cute pictures of you and your friends, as well as a few of your ex that I swiftly trashed for you. Maybe just a few naughty ones in the hidden album, don’t worry I didn’t stare. I’ll have plenty of time to do that in person.

Your texts are mostly dry. That’s a good thing though, that means you have more time for me. Even better? No dating apps. Good girl. Those are terribly dangerous, they should require a background check for users, you never know what kind of weirdo is on the other side of that screen.

I’m proud of you babydoll. You’re such a good girl, my good girl.

I’ll help you stay a good girl too. Your phone is mirrored to my laptop, so I’ll be able to see everything you see. No room for mix-ups or miscommunications between us this way.

Communication in relationships is so important.

Which is my reasoning behind the new phone software. You understand don’t you doll? I mean, I can only tell so much from your diary. You like to write and that’s amazing, it’s a great outlet and you should keep up with it. You’re the reason I started my own journal. You were so right when you said ‘it sorts my thoughts and soothes my heart’.

I never thought I’d be a journal guy. Look at me. Self care king.

Diary Entry: July 3rd

I have the most amazing news princess, after careful research and a very thorough deep dive into all of your neighbors, I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our distance issue.

Did you know that the old man across the hall from you is a widow? Poor guy, 10 years without his wife. They were married for 53 years. 53.

That’s the goal baby. That’s the kind of love I have for you.

If Alan Jared Nelson is anything like me, he’s miserable without Gloria Anne. Just like I’d be miserable without you.

He’s sick you know? He’s on a wait list for a liver, has been for 2 years. Isn’t that just the worst kind of hope? It’s cruel really.

Why give the man and his remaining family the hope of a ‘few’ more years, knowing damn well the guy is old enough that he might turn to dust they minute they cut into him. Why put him on the list at all? He’s 92. No one is giving him a liver.

The liver disease he’s diagnosed with is a doozy too, it’s aggressive, painful, and necrotic. He’s in constant pain. He’s got a port for morphine.

Do you know what kind of horrible pain a person has to be in to get a morphine port? Excruciating.

Alan has lived a long and beautiful life. Between the heartache of loosing his love and the debilitating disease he suffers from… it would be a mercy to lay him to rest don’t you think?

He’s a patriot through and through, he was in the army reserves. Now, that’s not my cup of tea but good for you Mr. Nelson.

America’s birthday is a good day for a guy like him to die isn’t it?

Date:

July 4th

Anakin counted the windows over and over, repeating the number in his head as he quietly trekked up the creaking rusted fire escape on Mr. Nelson’s side of the building. Not only was tonight a poetic release of this man’s long and happy existence, it was a very good cover.

Majority of the city was busy watching the fireworks at the celebration in the park, including you. Anakin had ensured you’d left before he even considered walking over to your building. He couldn’t bear the thought of committing a heinous, though arguably merciful, crime in the vicinity of such a pure form of radiance.

As expected the din of booming explosions and crackling sparks masked the noise of the quiet power drill Anakin used to remove bottom piece of the outer frame of the out-dated window. Internally cursing the fact that you lived in such an old building, there’s absolutely no way that these windows are up to code. It might make this task easier, but it made him a nervous wreck to think someone could break into your home in under a minute as long as they brought a drill and a magnet. The process was almost silent, you wouldn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late.

Once the piece of frame was laid aside Anakin used the heavy duty magnet to coax the loose curved clasp that held the window shut, out of the hoop that it rested in. He sighed, thinking he should definitely complain to the super once he moved in. The ease of breaking and entering wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

Sure it was a wonderful thing for Anakin, there would be absolutely no trace of the break in. The man is old, there would be no autopsy, there are no outdoor cameras on this building or the one next to it. This unit is tucked into a well hidden alleyway and no one saw him walk this way. But his worries were based on thoughts of you and your well-being.

Anakin sprayed Wd-40 along the tracks of the metallic frame and waited a moment before wiping off the excess, hopefully ensuring a silent entry.

The moment of truth arrived, Anakin lifted the window just a hair to test it. Finding it whisper quiet despite its age as he opened it and stepped inside.

The interior of the home was just as you’d expect, family pictures, a fridge covered in cards and handwritten reminders. An obscene amount of carved wooden trinkets and the forever mysterious wooden fruit that seemed to adorn the tables of many an old folks homes. Apples and roosters strewn about the space in the form of paintings, lampshades and oddly detailed itchy blankets.

A gorgeous abalone jewelry dish held a silver pendant, trapped beneath was an intricate lace cover that seemed to be made specifically for the coffee table they rested on. Upon closer inspection Anakin determined that it was tailor made. Gloria Anne Nelson must’ve been a talented craftswomen, the quality of work was amazing.

Alan’s display of his wife’s work, her jewelry dish and her favorite engraved pendant… he’d made an altar for her and probably didn’t even realize it. He’d even placed a tall, thick white candle next to the abalone dish. It left Anakin with a lump in his throat, imagining the horrible loneliness this man must feel.

He stood up from his crouched position and took a breath, smoothing his shirt to iron out his emotions. There would be time for proper mourning and reflection later.

He walked toward the short hall that housed Alan’s bed room and bathroom, but stopped short when something on the wall caught his attention.

A calendar depicting a summertime scene of a lake and a small fishing boat was tacked to the wall above the dock for his home phone, a small note pad and pen resting beside it.

A small smile turning the corner of his lip, the sight bringing a fond memory of his grandmother keeping a set-up very similar to this. Must be a universal old person habit.

He stepped closer to read the writing in the small squares and came to the realization that this calendar was not up to date. This calendar was from 2013, ten years ago.

Anakin knew from his deep dive into the Nelson’s life that Gloria had passed on July 16th, but he didn’t realize that July 4th was the anniversary of Gloria and Alan’s first kiss.

She’d kept up with that anniversary for the entirety of 53 years. Poetic.

He took a look around the kitchenette and living room again. Really and truly looking this time, not just glazing over the bigger items, the things that caught his eye. This time he looked at the in between.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, it was something he’d never forget, an achievement he’d strive for for the rest of his life.

Alan’s home was a shrine.

A neatly kept time capsule full of warmth and fondness. It oozed from the very walls of the space. Gloria had never stepped foot in this space, but she dominated every inch of it. Her devoted husband had rebuilt his life in her image, even in death he worshipped her just as Anakin worshipped you.

A heavy weight settled in Anakin’s heart, this was the right choice. This confirmed it.

He quietly entered the bedroom, Alan’s C-PAP machine humming with a rhythmic flow of air, in, *scish*, *puftk*, out. It was soothing in a strange way, or maybe it was just a relief from the suffocating silence that compressed Anakin’s lungs when he was absorbing the space past the door.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, pulling a small tube of lidocaine from his jacket hoodie pocket, along with a pair of gloves that he quickly donned. Wincing at the snap of the latex against his sweating palms, but the man continued his peaceful slumber, unaware that it would be his last.

He lifted the corner of the blanket and grimaced as he placed a small dollop of the cream via his index finger between Alan’s fourth and fifth toes. He didn’t even flinch.

Anakin kept the time on his watch and waited until the ointment did it’s job to numb the tender flesh. Fishing a small needle meant for insulin injections from a ziploc bag in pocket. Drawing a bit of air into barrel before carefully pricking the soft skin, holding his breath as his victim twitched.

When he stilled Anakin gently pushed the plunger and created a pocket of air in a vein that would soon end this poor souls life on earth. He withdrew the needle and stored it and the gloves in the ziploc bag, returning the blanket to its previous position.

He should’ve left then, but morbid curiosity had a tight hand around his wrist. Urging him to stay and wait out this event to its completion. So he tugged up his hood and stood motionless.

No one should be alone in their last moments. The least Anakin could do is provide silent support from the darkened corner. He counted the seconds on his watch until the man’s fingers twitched and his throat visibly tightened as a gurgled ball of air left his lungs. His eyes opened, wide and terrified as his body acted of its on volition.

Wrinkled hands weakly pawing at the C-PAP that was fitted over his head, Anakin watched his chest heave and collapse rapidly, the swell of his ribcage caving in on itself with each labored breath.

He’d heard of the ‘death rattle’ before but had never considered it to be anything other than a wives tale, until now. Alan’s choked coughs and gasping breaths reverberated in his chest and rolled up the stretch of his esophagus, coming out in a groan muffled by his lolled tongue.

He brought his fist to his chest in weak thumps, while his other reached over the side of the bed in the general vicinity of the night stand. It’s incredible what the human brain is capable of during such critical moments of stress. Anakin watch with a fascination that went beyond curiosity, wondering how the hell this guy was aware enough to try to grab the phone laying there.

Alan let his head fall to the side and his fading eyes blurred, but didn’t miss Anakin’s figure. To him, he was just a silhouette of midnight black. For some reason Anakin noticed a bit of the fear leave Alan’s tired eyes, softening as though he was accepting his quickly approaching end.

He stopped struggling, stopped reaching for the phone and instead held out a shaking hand to Anakin as though he wanted him to take it.

What kind of monster would deny a dying man?

He stepped forward on silent feet until he clasped the man’s wrist and felt his weak grip on his. The leathery skin was clammy, sickly to the touch and it made Anakin’s stomach churn.

“Death?” A small creaking attempt at the word eeked out of Alan’s lips.

“Yes sir.” Anakin responded. Was it true? No. But was it a lie? Also no. He was and he wasn’t.

“A-about…” the old man heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “About damn time.”

Anakin was usually quick on his feet with his quips but this man’s nonchalant attitude, his welcoming of his fate was unexpected.

“Sorry Mr. Nelson.” He chuckled. “I’m a very busy man.”

He laughed. A rare occasion if not the only occasion that someone’s dying breath was a laugh. Anakin’s brow pinched together, wetting his lips with his tongue before chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched the life drain from his eyes.

Once his hand went slack and limp Anakin gently laid it across his chest, checked for a pulse and found none. He patted the old man’s shoulder and turned to exit the room, he didn’t look back and he didn’t take another breath until he set foot on the fire escape and the window was shut. Making quick work of closing the clasp and reassembling the metal frame.

He took a shaky breath and checked his watch. Bewildered by the passing of time. He literally couldn’t comprehend it, pulling out his phone to confirm. The times were indeed matching.

Three minutes and 57 seconds.

He was only inside for three minutes and 57 seconds. He felt like hours of his life had flown by, he felt both aged and more alive than he’d ever been. The only thing he could compare this feeling to was… the feeling he got because of you.

He’d done a good thing.

Alan said so himself, the man was ready, beyond ready to embrace death. Anakin had done him a favor by taking his life returning his soul to his soulmate.

It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He thought maybe he would feel sick, he almost did, until he didn’t. He decided not to question his contentment, instead pocketing it to tuck away in the recess of his mind that he stored his more unhealthy thoughts and experiences in.

He liked that about himself, his ability to compartmentalize at will. He liked to be neat and tidy, it was only natural that his mind mirror that. He knew that it was just his mind’s creation; his mind didn’t really look like a neat room of filing cabinets.

He had one for childhood memories, one for his favorite happy memories, one for his mother, one for his friends, one for his work life, one for his home life. But the two most important things housed in the confines of his skull were the golden pedestal holding the beautifully crafted, one of a kind ceramic vase he poured his love for you into; and The Pit.

He didn’t like The Pit. His inner self kindly transported the things that belonged there via a lockbox and unceremoniously tossed it over the edge at a safe distance. Even the figment of his imagination in this scenario was too afraid to peer over the edge of the chasm. He’d never heard anything hit the bottom, if he got too close he would fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and fall for eternity.

Then what would you do? Suffer through a sad existence like poor Mr. Nelson?

No. He can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. You’re to precious, too pure, too good to experience anything but radiant joy.

He breathed in relief as he found himself suddenly outside his front door, he’d traveled on autopilot.

He showered and tucked himself into bed, exhausted and drained emotionally. But not too much, not enough that he could neglect his duties. He checked the tracker on his phone, pleaded to see that you were abiding by your unspoken agreed upon curfew. Home before 2:00am. Always.

It was only 12:30. Good job princess.

He waited, following the little blue dot to the larger red one and switched over to the live camera feed and witnessed you chatting happily on your phone as you trotted up the stairs.

He thanked his past self from this morning and grabbed the laptop from his nightstand and patiently waited for the mirror image of your phone updated.

Luke. It was just Luke making sure you got home safe; maybe Luke wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t a threat to Anakin in anyway and he was concerned with your well-being. Not as much himself of course but enough that Anakin could throw a smidgen of respect his way, it’s nice to know he already has something in common with your best friend.

He did his routine night-time walk through of your device, seeing that you’d turned on your alarms for the next day already. He smiled fondly, his sleepy girl.

He turned up the sound on your bedroom camera, plugging up his phone and putting the laptop on the night stand. He placed his phone next to his head and listened to your breathing slow and relax.

He loved this. Sleeping with the sound of your soft snores and mumbled sleepy words. It was an intimacy that he craved to manifest into the flesh world.

Soon he would.

Someone please tell me that if you’ve waitressed/known a waitress who’s done shit like that?? If not I just told on myself for being a big fat liar.

Part Four

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[herjuhodivine]

LOVE DIARY : DAY 5 : out of sight, out of mind

listening to : Obsessed - Mariah Carey

she flips the store sign to ‘open’, she refills the display section near the cashier area with fresh new pastries and cleans up the shop. she hears other workers fill into the store and starts clocking in. she cleans and freshens up the machines, refilling the condiments.

a few hours passed, the store running smoothly and easy customers. she counted about fifity (50) orders so far, she has done. she started organizing the money in the cash register.

“oh wow, i didn’t know you worked here…” she feels a annoying burning sensation in her head, a upcoming headache probably. she glances up to see him and her. off all people to encounter at this very moment. she fixes her posture, putting on the most bothered face, “hello, what can i get you today?” she taps the screen of the cash register, her nails hitting it every time.

he gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, he can’t tell if he’s sweating or not. “uh…j-just a coffee with cream and milk with ice…please..” he stammers with his words, feeling embarrassed. “so a ice coffee with milk and cream.” she takes a moment to type it in. “anything else?” a moment of silence before she pushed him out of the way, “yes actually, i want two(2) strawberry cheesecakes, four(4) dozens of cookies, and a vanilla milkshake.” she waved her finger around. she types out her order. “is that it?” her finger taps against the marble counter. she nods with sass. “the total is $30.77.” her face went into shock and immediately turned around to boyfriend, where he was standing, he left exactly three(3) minutes ago.

she stares at her blankly, waiting for the money. she scoffed angrily and pulled out her card and pays. the transaction went through and she pulls out her card and back into her bag. “your order will be done in ten(10) minutes.” she gets off the counter and goes into the back as someone else takes over the register.

after ten(10) minutes, she yelled out ‘order 239’ and he walks up to the other counter and double checks everything is correct. he smiles at her gently. she gives a blank expression in return. “uh…” he broke the silence first. “is everything correct?” he makes a face, like he is about to lie for the shits and giggles. “n-no…we are missing a set of c-cookies..” she glances down at the cookies, she did miss a set. she sighs and goes back into the kitchen. he breathes out. after a minutes she comes back with the missing the set. “my apologies sir.”

he gives her a nervous smile and takes it from her, his fingers brushing against hers he felt a little electric shock between their finger tips. “bye..” he turns around and walks away back to her.

she looks down at her fingers and her ring fingertip, where she felt the electric spark. she breathes in and out, calming her mind down before she calls out to her workers she’s going on a early break.

◁◁ I I ▷▷

note : i’m not dead guys ! trust !!

diary readers : @agomeangelcat @yukii-1 @ilovedinodino @sad-darksoul @notveevee @luv-cinnamon @ofcqdesi

[veal-exe]

Severe mental health talk I should put on my diary blog but I don’t want to feel so isolated so I am not. drugged up stream of consciousness.

Honestly I can’t help but knee jerk resent people who don’t need to pay rent and bills. I work a hard job and I don’t keep a cent of any of my paychecks, I haven’t bought myself anything with my own money in almost two years.

To be clear I am severely disabled and chronically ill, I have a terminal illness and a wide variety of extremely painful health issues I just have to work on top of. I don’t have any choice, if I don’t do what I am doing I will simply die in the street.

My life hasn’t been mine for a long time, I’m just a rent paying machine, it’s hard because I know myself so so well but I feel like someone has melon baller’d my me out of my body and replaced it with ostensibly nothing, I feel like a ghost that’s stuck in a loop, go to work, empty bank into rent account, weekends hit and I don’t remember them because I never get to really rest on them because other things need doing and I am in endless pain, I count my work days down and don’t remember them, time just moves and I repeat the same things, day, after day, after day, and I pay rent.

I’m not actively suicidal per se, like I’m not going to do anything, but I do regularly consider walking into traffic to escape it all, I feel like my identity which I love so much has been hidden under a mourning veil of wake, work, sleep, lay in bed in pain or do errands, repeat, infinitely, forever, and ever, and ever.

I don’t even know what I’d do if I had a single day, just one, where I didn’t have to think about survival. Not strategy, not rationing meds, not budgeting time I don’t have around symptoms I can’t control. Just being. Just existing like it’s not a punishment.

And the worst part is how invisible it all is. No one sees the calculations happening in real time. No one sees what it takes to look like I’m functioning. How much it costs me to smile at a customer, to answer a question without wincing, to walk across a room when my bones feel like they’re splintering. There’s no room for softness in this life I’ve been forced into. No space for stillness unless I steal it, and even then it comes at a price.

I get so angry sometimes, not at people specifically, but at the way the world is set up to chew people like me up. If you can’t work, you’re a burden. If you can work while disabled, you must not be “that bad.” There’s no winning. Just survival. Just the constant, exhausting proving of your own suffering. And it doesn’t even make anything easier. You prove it and then go home and still have to figure out how to afford food, how to refill prescriptions, how to make your body do just enough to keep your roof.

I miss myself. I miss the version of me that had ideas and energy and dreams and fucking hobbies. I miss being a person. I miss the future I used to picture when I was younger, before I knew how expensive life would be in every way. And it’s not like I don’t try. God, I try. Every day. Every hour. I try harder than anyone knows just to keep walking through this. But trying doesn’t pay the bills, and trying doesn’t heal you, and trying doesn’t let you stop.

I just wish it didn’t always have to hurt so much.

And God, I wish I didn’t resent people who get to just be. People who sit on Tumblr all day, held up by someone else’s roof, safe in a house that isn’t falling apart, surviving without needing to prove their worth to capitalism every second of their existence. I want to be happy for them. I want to believe that someone getting to rest is a victory. But the jealousy sticks like something sour in my throat. Not because they don’t deserve rest, but because I do too, and I’ve not been allowed it for so long.

I am in so much pain, all the time. Pain that flirts with the edge of vomiting, the kind that makes my vision go white and my hands tremble while I haul dozens, sometimes hundreds, of pounds of product, bending, lifting, stacking, serving people who are allowed to be people in ways I’m not. They get to have bad days. They get to cry. They get to exist in bodies that aren’t burning down from the inside, and if they are in pain, they get to stop. I don’t.

It eats at me, knowing I used to count time so carefully. I used to know exactly how many months, weeks, days had passed since this or that symptom started, this or that organ began failing, because every moment mattered. When you’re terminal, you’re told time is everything. I used to measure it like gold dust, like anything I dropped was a loss I couldn’t get back. Now I don’t even remember weeks. I blink and they’re gone. I don’t know how many months it’s been since I last enjoyed something really frivolous, or since I ate without guilt, or since I felt truly safe. Time moves like a dream, not a beautiful one, but the kind where scenes blend and you’re just reacting to one blurred moment after the next, not really awake, not really in control.

And I hate that I’ve become so cold. I used to be warm, I think. I used to be funny, and passionate, and full of stories. I remember being creative. I remember having plans. But pain strips all that away until you’re just a system of responses: show up, survive, shut down. I miss feeling like more than a set of tasks.

Sometimes I grieve myself while I’m still alive. Not in a poetic way, just in the dull, unceremonious realization that I’ve been gone a while. The version of me that laughed freely, that had dumb little hyperfixations, that got excited about video games or music or art or learning new things! they’re all still somewhere under my skin, but they’ve gone so quiet I can’t hear them anymore. And when I try to reach for them, I feel ridiculous. I feel like a child begging a ghost to come home.

It’s humiliating, in its own way, how invisible I’ve become. Not to the people who care!! I know they love me!! I know they’d help if they could!! but to the world at large. I do everything I can just to maintain and it’s like screaming into a vacuum. My efforts don’t register. My pain doesn’t register. If I fail, I die. If I succeed, I’m just treading water in silence. I get to keep suffering, quietly, while people who’ve never had to work for survival post wellness updates and day-in-the-life reels that look like fucking indie films.

I feel like a glitch in someone else’s success montage.

And it’s not even about wanting luxury. I just want dignity. I want to suffer in peace, not in servitude. I want the option to be still, to hurt without being punished for it. I want the chance to fall apart without losing everything. And I know that makes me sound bitter!! and I admitted I am!! but I think bitterness is what happens when grief has nowhere to go. It sits in the back of the throat until you can’t talk around it anymore.

Sometimes I see joy and I flinch like it’s a bright light. Not because I hate it, but because it feels so far away from me it burns. I want to participate. I want to go to the silly little events. I want to celebrate stupid holidays. I want to be someone who wakes up and doesn’t feel like they’re already two steps behind surviving. But I’m not. And people don’t like being reminded of that.

Hope is a bad thing too, sometimes. I have it. It’s pathetic, how much I have it. I keep thinking maybe if I push a little harder, endure a little longer, something will change. Something will shift and I’ll be allowed to catch my breath. But the weeks keep vanishing. The seasons keep turning without me. I don’t know if I believe that moment will ever come. I just know I need to believe it might, or I’ll lose the last thread keeping me tethered to any version of a future.

And maybe that’s all that’s left: my thread, pulled taut

[chronotopes]

about me meme spotted on the dash board what a great excuse to use up too much time answering questions

What's the origin of your blog title?

my favorite poem, "the idea of order at key west" by wallace stevens

OTP(s) + ship names:

help. not really in the stage of my life to have multiple otps, vriska/terezi homestuck + "vrisrezi" (or 'scourge sisters' if you're old school but i'm decidedly not)

Favorite color:

green and burgundy, though not together

Favorite game:

i so don't play video games, i find them fun when i do play them but i do not have the time. ive been known to engage in a Star Dew Valley in the past, which i am still fond of, even though my habit of ignoring the farm to go to the mines all the time maybe indicates that i should Play Another Game. the video game i have the most affection for rn is elden ring tbh which i do nooooot have the time or skill or dedication to play myself but i really liked watching jenny do it. maybe one day.

Song stuck in your head:

i'm listening to posing for cars by japanese breakfast rn so nothing is really stuck in my head

Weirdest habit/trait?:

i feel like my bad habits (picking at my cuticles, not refilling the water filter) are not necessarily weird and i can't think of anything else

Hobbies:

writing (though that might be more of a 'lifestyle' than a hobby), art when i feel like it, piano again lately (YAY). one day fencing will be on this list again but i'm still broke so it's still a no go lol

If you work, what's your profession?:

I write immigration law petitions (and mainly request for further evidence responses these days, which are little customized little letters where you yell at us immigration services for not reading the original petition) for stem researchers

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?:

creative writing or literature professor at a small teaching college. sigh. oooor writing center director but that one's more complicated. i think i would also be good at working in publishing but i feel i would hate it so there is that.

i don't mind my job right now though, i just wish it had the kind of structure that allowed me to like list people as references.

Something you're good at:

writing (with room for improvement), cooking (both from recipes and on the fly), packing, summoning the energy to do important stuff (like packing, or a long drive), gift-giving, navigating train stations and airports, befriending my friends' gen x moms

Something you're bad at:

navigating things that aren't train stations or airports, being proactive about completing objectively easy work tasks fast, writing-related research, deciding what to eat for breakfast, emotional self-regulation (lol), inviting people i like to hang out, starting new hobbies, refraining from posting through it

Some( )thing(s) you love:

watching my girlfriend and friends' improv practices, the moment when writing goes from One Sentence At A Time to 'trying and failing to keep up with what your brain knows comes next', cold winter days in dc when downtown is empty of everyone but people who live in the area, the river in my hometown, green perfumes

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

late 19th-early 20th century american tomboy literature :] also, adaptations as a whole

Something you hate:

there's plenty of serious things i could say but my first thought was 'how fast bathroom floors get gross'

Something you collect:

perfume samples lol not in the sense that i think of them as 'a collection' i just. happen to have a bunch

Something you forget:

periods of my life where nothing explicitly horrible is happening but i'm still too busy or sad to write in my diary

What's your love language?:

"I don't believe in love languages because they're Christian propaganda about how men don't have to love their wives." SO TRUE SEREN!!!!! that said um i do all of the love languages and like all of the love languages because they are all important to a good relationship. however 'quality time' is the one that i most profoundly need from people to not go insane, while that one and 'gift giving' is probably one of the ones that comes most naturally for me to offer to others.

Favorite movie/show?:

little women (2019) and star trek deep space nine.

Favorite food:

they tend to fall into one of two categories: Stewed Or Slow-Cooked Cozy Thing With A Great Depth Of Flavor (brisket, most beef braises, french onion soup) or Bright Acidic Summery Thing (most forms of tomato salad, any and all mango- or peach-based savory dishes, etc). man idk i like a lot of foods.

Favorite animals:

kity.......

What were you like as a child?:

ages 1–5 who tf remembers. ages 5–11 - quiet, shy, bookish, artistic, Sensitive Soul Whos Been Stomped On By The World (learned english by immersion in a very poorly classroom-managed kindergarden class a month after moving countries). ages 11–13 – LOL SO RANDOM warrior cats enjoyer writing one million novels at any given moment, insufferable know-it-all, seriousgirl who wants to be a funnyman so bad. as you might guess the last category is the one i feel the fondest of.

Favorite subject in school:

In middle school, consistently literature and science (we had separate english and literature classes). from sophomore year of high school onward, i knew i was Going To Be An English Major but that made me a lot pickier about teachers, and i hated both my ap lit and ap lang teachers intensely. so in sophomore year it was english, in junior year it was us history, and in senior year, it was..... good lord, it was probably calculus lol

Least favorite subject in school:

P.E. in middle school easily; in high school, health and wellness followed by algebra ii followed by ap lang followed by ap us government

What's your best character trait?:

Good lord I don't know. I think I'm a good listener and a fairly thoughtful and self-aware person, which makes me good at advice. I am also a very proactive and dedicated person when it comes to acting in collaboration with someone or on someone's behalf. So I was really good about setting up housing and utilities and logistics when Jenny and I had functionally a three-week window for moving across the state. On the other hand last year I waited until April 12th to file my own taxes so ymmv.

What's your worst character trait?:

I still have kind of terrible emotional self-regulation, and it gets worse the closer with someone I get and the better they treat me, so not to be a dramatic ya protagonist boy but the nicer you are to me the greater your chance of one day seeing me be truly stupid and evil about something.

If you could change any detail about your day, what would it be?:

I dropped an egg on the floor this morning which I would rather not have done.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Virginia Woolf.

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!):

Homestuck: Read Vinbre the Novel, obviously. Or CHARGING THE VOID. Or And the handmaid shall take the hindmost. Or my most underrated non-Aivide fic, the truth must dazzle gradually.

Deep Space Nine: Read Scenes from a Disaster Zone, and then read it again.

[sailtomarina]

Running Scarlet

👟 Ginny Weasley/Antonin Dolohov | Rated M | pining, meet-cute | WC 1.3K 📎 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66909004

She runs by his shop everyday.

Not always at the same time. Sometimes first thing in the morning. At other times, in the early afternoon. The one thing that does not change is the flash of scarlet through the window catching his eye and pausing whatever task is at hand at that given moment.

Ginevra Weasley. Formerly Potter, and now a Weasley once more.

Antonin doesn’t think about making contact. Why would he? She is the daughter of a woman who would sooner see him roast on a spit than step one foot in the direction of any member of her family. 

Secondly, he is too old. Older than her parents. Older, still, than the various men she appears with following her very public, very messy, divorce. None of them seem to last past a month, but he considers that a failure on their part. Not hers.

Because everything he’s seen of her tells him that she is exceptional.

A survivor, even in her youth. He wonders if that is one of the commonalities that drew her and her hero of an ex-husband together. Maybe that is also what eventually pushed them apart.

First string on the Holyhead Harpies, straight out of Hogwarts. She’ll likely make Captain sooner than anyone expects.

Front page and a centre spread in both Quidditch World and Witch Weekly. He kept his copies until guilt sent them into the rubbish bin.

What begins as interest transforms into anticipation. Eventually, he can acknowledge that he enjoys seeing that pop of colour; when too many days pass without, he feels off-kilter, as if the day hasn’t quite begun.

He’s in the back sorting through stock when he hears the jingle of the door. “I’ll be just a moment!”

“Take your time!” 

He can’t place it, but something about the voice hurries him. He’s out on the floor to greet the customer within seconds rather than minutes. 

She doesn’t need to turn around for Antonin to know who she is. There’s no mistaking that shade of red, nor the athletic grace that remains apparent even in stillness.

“How may I help you, Ms Weasley?”

She swivels around, surprise heightening her brows. Surprise turns to wariness as every line of her body tenses in readiness for whatever action he might take.

“Antonin Dolohov.”

Hearing his name on her tongue, spoken in that measured tone, brings a smirk to his lips, one that he tempers at the narrowing of her eyes.

“In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my shop.”

Scoffing, her eyes dart around them. Take in the shelves of fine paper goods. Journals, stationary, quills, ink. “This is your shop?”

“That is what I said.”

She looks down at the leather-bound journal she holds. Coincidentally, it’s one he would have picked out for her. Eddies of wind are etched into the corners, and the russet dragonhide complements her, especially now, with her flushed cheeks and the sparks in her eyes. The leather bends within her tightening grip.

“I’ve run by here countless times,” Ginevra says, eyes still cast downward, “and I’ve never noticed you.”

But I’ve noticed you, he almost replies. Instead, “What made you decide to come in today?”

She raises the journal up between them like a sacrifice. “I kept a diary when I was younger, then stopped.” He’s familiar with the tale. “I thought I might start again.”

“I can promise you that there isn’t a sliver of a soul within those pages.”

Antonin is almost convinced he sees a smile, and the hope of it spurs him onward.

“The paper is charmed to refill as many times as you wish without altering the overall size or weight. I’ve also included instructions for how to mask or scramble the contents from prying eyes.”

In his excitement, he steps forward, only to immediately stop when she takes an equal step back. The automatic reaction dissolves whatever optimism that’s started to form.

He has forgotten himself. Forgotten what he represents.

You have a weak mind, his father used to tell him. It is too easily swayed by the spirit. After all this time, that still remains true.

With that reminder, Antonin retreats. “I’ll be at the counter if you have any questions or require assistance.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, and she doesn’t offer one. Self-flagellation and old doubts swarm to the forefront, muting his senses. It isn’t until he’s behind the counter once more that he notices she’s followed him to the till.

“I’ll take this and whatever black ink you recommend.” She hands Antonin the journal directly, when she could have just as easily set it down and avoided the possibility of their fingers brushing in the exchange. That she does so anyway feels a bit like an apology.

They stay silent through the rest of the purchase, nothing but the steady ticking of the clock on the wall and clinking coins to break it. She doesn’t speak again until she’s nearly out the door.

“It’s a nice shop.”

Only after the door swings shut does Antonin let out his breath, elbows coming down onto the tabletop and hands covering his face. What are the chances that she changes her route now that she knows he’s here? He wouldn’t blame her for doing so or if she were to spread the word to others. 

Except she doesn’t change her routine. He sees her running by the next day, and then the next. 

When another one of her friends does find him, it isn’t in the way he expects. First the Lovegood lass, who has no qualms about chatting him up for the remainder of his afternoon, then, more surprisingly, the Mu—Muggle-born, Granger. She stares at him for several uncomfortable minutes while he pretends not to care, eyes fixed on restoring one of Lucius’ priceless tomes, before she purchases a set of messaging journals and proceeds to interrogate him on the magic involved.

Their eyes begin to catch through the glass. Once, while he’s changing out the display in the window. Again, when he steps outside for a bite to eat. Her form is flawless, each stride long and seemingly effortless. He has to suppress the urge to chase once she passes. He is not a bull, though he may feel like one. 

What sort of noises would she make if he were to catch her?

He shakes the fly away.

The next time they cross paths, she turns. “Why paper goods?” She continues to jog in place as she awaits his answer.

Sweat lines her brow. Several strands of hair in what has quickly become his favourite colour have escaped hold and stick to her face.

“It is not a short answer,” is all that he says. 

Which is true, but it is not as if he is unable to summarise; he simply does not wish to. The decisions that led to where and who he is now hold too much meaning for a mere handful of words.  

He half expects her to shrug and go about her way, as usual. The other half hopes his lack of an answer irritates her into argument, so as to lengthen their exchange.

What he does not expect is for her to come to a complete stop, but she does.

“If I treat you to lunch, will you tell me then?” she asks.

“Only if I get to choose the spot.” He has the perfect place in mind to back his story, but… “We’ll have to Side-Along. I can understand if that’s too much.”

Again, she dodges his expectations. He really ought to know better by now. Removing her wand from a well-concealed pocket, she summons her Patronus. “I’ve gone to lunch with Dolohov,” she says, and he wonders who it is she deems worthy of the update as the goshawk circles upward and away. Eyes dropping, he extends an elbow. 

This time, he’ll be patient. 

Ginevra takes one step, then two, until she’s close enough to reach out and wrap a hand around his forearm. The emotion that fills his chest could banish several Dementors all at once. Instead, he gives her a short nod, prompting a squeeze in return.

They twist away in a swirl of fire and smoke, one that would have been silent, if not for the growl of his stomach and the laugh that follows it.

Cross-posted on AO3, IG, FB, & Tumblr

Written for Dolohoes' Antonin+ Week 2025, Day 3 - Ginny

[swagmarvels]

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[truewholesaleofficial]

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[diemday2day1]

Why a Personal Diary Is More Than Just Paper: The Power of Personalization

A Custom Diary: What Is It?Comprehending the Idea A personalized journal is not your typical planner. It's a reflection of who you are, tailored to your tastes, objectives, and way of life. Imagine your name on the front, customized layouts, unique covers, and pages that are just how you want them.

Types of Available Customizations Custom journals come with everything you need, including mood trackers, dotted pages for bullet journaling, and weekly spreads. Every inch is yours, including color schemes and typefaces.

Why Opt for a Custom Diary Instead of a Standard One?

Have you ever observed that when something feels like it was built particularly for you, you're more likely to utilize it?

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[akshayaquapri]

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[keanchee]

How to Choose the Best Diary Supplier for Your Business

In today’s competitive market, branded stationery like diaries can significantly enhance your company's visibility and reinforce brand identity. Whether you're giving diaries to employees, clients, or as promotional merchandise, the quality and design speak volumes about your business. That’s why choosing the right diary supplier is more than just a procurement decision—it’s a branding strategy. Here’s how to select the best diary supplier for your business.

1. Assess Your Business Needs

Before reaching out to suppliers, clearly define what you’re looking for. Are you ordering diaries for internal corporate use or as giveaways? Do you need customization, such as your company logo, brand colors, or personalized messages? Think about:

Quantity needed

Types (daily planner, weekly planner, executive diaries, pocket-sized, etc.)

Custom features (logos, cover material, page layout, etc.)

Delivery timelines

By identifying your specific needs upfront, you can narrow down suppliers who meet your exact requirements.

2. Evaluate Product Quality

Quality is paramount. A well-crafted diary reflects your brand’s professionalism, while a flimsy one could send the wrong message. Request physical samples whenever possible. Pay attention to:

Binding and durability: Does the diary open flat? Will it hold up with frequent use?

Paper quality: Is the paper thick enough to prevent ink bleed?

Cover material: Is it leatherette, PU, fabric, or something else? How does it feel and look?

Design and layout: Is the layout intuitive and functional for business use?

Don’t hesitate to ask for customization samples if you’re planning branded diaries.

3. Check the Supplier’s Reputation

Research the supplier’s reputation in the industry. Look for:

Online reviews and ratings: Check Google, Trustpilot, or B2B platforms.

Client testimonials: Positive feedback from well-known clients can indicate reliability.

Portfolio: Suppliers often showcase previous work. Look for clients in your industry or examples similar to what you envision.

You want a supplier with a proven track record of delivering quality products on time.

4. Customization Capabilities

Customization is often a key reason businesses invest in branded diaries. Make sure your supplier offers:

Custom logo embossing or printing

Tailored cover designs

Personalized pages (e.g., company mission, calendar, contact details)

Color and material options

Packaging and inserts (e.g., gift boxes, pens, bookmarks)

A good supplier should be able to offer you a range of customization options without compromising on turnaround time.

5. Compare Pricing Transparently

Price is an essential factor, but it shouldn't be the only one. Ask for detailed quotations that include:

Unit cost based on quantity

Customization fees

Shipping or delivery charges

Taxes and hidden fees (if any)

Discounts on bulk orders

Don’t just go for the cheapest option—make sure the price reflects the quality and service offered. Sometimes, a slightly higher cost ensures better client service and faster delivery.

6. Check Turnaround Times

Timing is critical, especially if you’re planning to give diaries out for New Year campaigns or corporate events. Discuss timelines before placing an order:

How long will it take to produce a sample?

What is the average production lead time for your order size?

Can they meet urgent deadlines?

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A reliable supplier should be upfront about production timelines and flexible enough to accommodate your scheduling needs.

7. Inquire About Sustainability

Sustainability is becoming increasingly important in corporate procurement. If your company values eco-friendly practices, look for suppliers that:

Use recycled or FSC-certified paper

Offer refillable or reusable diary options

Use soy-based inks or biodegradable packaging

Partnering with an environmentally conscious supplier aligns your business with modern values and can be a talking point in your brand story.

8. Evaluate Communication and Support

The best suppliers are those who are easy to reach, responsive, and proactive in addressing your needs. Test their customer service by:

Sending an inquiry email or contact form—note how long it takes to get a response

Calling their support number—see if you can reach someone knowledgeable

Asking detailed questions about products and process

Good communication ensures fewer mistakes and smoother project execution.

9. Ask About After-Sales Support

After-sales support can make or break your experience with a supplier. Clarify:

What happens if there are printing or production errors?

Do they offer replacements or refunds?

Is there a warranty for defects?

Choosing a supplier who stands behind their product gives you peace of mind and saves you stress down the line.

10. Start with a Trial Order

If you’re working with a new supplier, consider placing a small trial order before committing to a large batch. This gives you the chance to:

Evaluate the quality firsthand

Test their service reliability

Understand the full order process

A trial run minimizes risk and builds confidence before scaling up.

Conclusion

Selecting the right diary supplier is an investment in your brand’s image and professional identity. By assessing quality, customization options, pricing, service, and sustainability, you can make a well-informed choice that supports your business goals. Take the time to research, ask the right questions, and choose a supplier who not only meets your current needs but can grow with your business in the years to come.

[trendilyyours]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vegan Leather Initial "M" Journal w/Rosewood Ink Pen Set (A5/160 Page) NWT/Box.

[technical03030]

Enhancing Healthcare with Custom Medical Apps

In today's digital era, technology continues to revolutionize every aspect of our lives, including healthcare. One of the most significant advancements in the medical field is the development of custom medical apps. These applications offer a plethora of benefits, from streamlining processes to improving patient care. In this article, we will delve into the world of custom medical app development company and explore how they are enhancing healthcare delivery.

The Role of Medical Apps in Modern Healthcare

Streamlining Processes

Medical apps play a crucial role in streamlining various healthcare processes. From appointment scheduling to medical record management, these applications automate routine tasks, allowing healthcare professionals to focus more on patient care. By reducing administrative burdens, medical apps increase efficiency within healthcare facilities, leading to improved productivity and cost savings.

Improving Patient Care

One of the primary goals of custom medical apps is to enhance patient care. These applications enable patients to access healthcare services remotely, facilitating timely consultations and reducing the need for in-person visits. Moreover, medical apps often incorporate features such as medication reminders, symptom trackers, and health monitoring tools, empowering individuals to take control of their health and adhere to treatment plans more effectively.

Enhancing Communication

Effective communication is essential for delivering high-quality healthcare services. Medical apps facilitate seamless communication between patients and healthcare providers through secure messaging platforms and telehealth capabilities. This real-time interaction fosters greater patient engagement and enables providers to deliver personalized care tailored to individual needs.

Key Features of Custom Medical Apps

When developing custom medical apps, several key features are essential to ensure functionality and usability:

Electronic Health Records (EHR) Integration

Integrating medical apps with electronic health records systems allows for seamless access to patient data, enabling healthcare professionals to make informed decisions and deliver personalized care.

Appointment Scheduling

Appointment scheduling features simplify the process of booking and managing appointments, reducing wait times and optimizing clinic workflows.

Telemedicine Capabilities

Telemedicine functionalities enable virtual consultations and remote monitoring, expanding access to healthcare services and enhancing patient convenience.

Medication Management

Medication management tools help patients adhere to their prescribed treatment regimens by providing medication reminders, dosage instructions, and refill alerts.

Health Tracking

Health tracking features, such as symptom diaries and activity trackers, allow patients to monitor their health status and share relevant data with healthcare providers for proactive management.

The Future of Custom Medical Apps

As technology continues to evolve, the future of custom medical apps looks promising. Advancements in artificial intelligence, wearable devices, and remote patient monitoring are poised to further revolutionize healthcare delivery. Custom medical apps will continue to play a pivotal role in empowering patients, improving clinical outcomes, and driving efficiencies across the healthcare ecosystem.

Conclusion

Custom medical apps are transforming the way healthcare is delivered, offering numerous benefits for both patients and providers. By streamlining processes, improving patient care, and enhancing communication, these applications are revolutionizing the healthcare industry. As technology continues to advance, custom medical apps will play an increasingly integral role in shaping the future of healthcare delivery.

[filthyraven]

Excited to share the latest addition to my etsy shop! A Resin Cover Bullet Journal!!!