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#pocket bullet journal

life-in-scribbles · 4 months

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17/01/24 wednesday

January pages in a pocket notebook. This little guy will stay with me for the next few months. Easy to carry and still a lot of space.

#bujo #journaling #edc notebook #bullet journal #pocket notebook #pocket bujo #pocket bullet journal #bujo inspo #journal

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tiny-paper-scraps · 6 months

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scans from the notebook i kept over the summer

#own #notebook #journal #pocket journal #bullet journal #journaling #visual journal #notebook keeping #visual diary

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sunshinegremlin · 7 months

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CALLING ALL PPL WHO STRUGGLE TO KEEP A CALENDAR!

I used to keep a bullet journal years ago but I completely fell off it once COVID began. Since then, I have had no calendar to keep my life together.

As someone with ADHD, a calendar would help me stay sane, but every time I tried to get back into it, no matter what I tried, it never stuck. Therefore, my life was a mess.

But while reading a Webtoon (called "30 Minutes With You" if you're interested, it's really wholesome) the main character does daily doodles in her pocket calendar, and then it clicked.

I've been doing daily little doodles in my pocket calendar and I've generally kept up for two months now! Overall, it's been really fun AND has kept me more put together!

Here is an example:

You can get a pocket calendar from Dollar Tree for $1.25 (if you're in the US and Canada)! I use blank office labels cut into the right size as the white squares I draw on just because it looks better.

This has also really helped my memory, because once stuff happens my brain forgets it immediately. It really makes me feel like my life is fuller and it's been easier to look back and see how far I've come!

Hope it helps! 💛

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scribbledmelancholic · 4 months

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trying not to be upset that i started this book in winter 🥲 my winter and probably spring journal as well!

#bujo #bullet journal #stationery #archer and olive #pocket bujo #b6 bujo #seasonal bujo #winter bujo #scribbledsystem

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leuchtturm1917aus · 4 months

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You can ink your thoughts with impact using ballpoint pens. They are designed for comfort and deliver a smooth writing experience. Ballpoint pens can upgrade your writing style whether in the classroom, or creative space. They offer dependability and sophistication in each stroke, improving your signature and leaving a lasting appearance. Express your ideas with confidence, as these pens easily combine functionality with classiness.

#Ballpoint pens #mechanical pencil #notebooks #pocket size notebooks #colourful notepads #bullet journal notebook #2024 planners #red ink ballpoint pen refill #planners and diaries #planners

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alenasbdesign · 9 months

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Pocket Moleskine Notebook

Dimensions: 5.75" l x 3.75" w

Easily refill with MOLESKINE® Cahier Notebooks

Available in two additional sizes

MOLESKINE® Cahier Pocket Notebook with soft covers and 64 ruled pages fits snugly inside the cover

Made from sustainable eco-friendly material, sealed with vinyl laminate

Hand sewn with clear vinyl pockets

Sturdy, water resistant and reusable cover

Printed in full color

Handmade in Los Angeles, California, USA

MOLESKINE® is a trademark registered by Moleskine S.P.A This product is recommended for ages 13+.

#Moleskine #Mayotte #flag #notebook #pocket #pocket notebook #journal #journaling #bujo #bullet journal #travel journal #Maore #island #grunge #flags #back to school #back to office

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life-in-scribbles · 3 months

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24/01/24 wednesday ❄️❄️❄️

#edc notebook #journaling #journal #bujo #bullet journal #winter #pocket notebook #pocket bujo #pocket bullet journal #blue

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phonydiaries · 7 months

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Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader

Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3

---

It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning.

Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night.

You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference).

“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively.

For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table.

His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars.

One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain.

“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page.

The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book.

“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.”

As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters.

It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.

Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him.

“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility.

When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall.

“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him.

Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly.

“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each.

“All gone.”

Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.

“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”

At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark.

“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.”

P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain.

“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really.

By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer.

#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop #so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read #lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd #extremely soft pino #lies of p #lies of p fanfic #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p fanart #fluff #my writing

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coliepng · 6 months

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my fav spread from october ⚡️

#moleskine #bullet journal #bujo #journal #notebooks #pocket size #planner #page spread #colie.png #x

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 1 year

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Soap has a box that sits under his bunk and stays locked at all times. Everyone’s seen it at one point or another but nobody actually knows what’s inside and so they’ve all got their bets on what could be in it.

Gaz said there was a bunch of porn mags in it and got so severely judged for it that he considered changing his bet, but nobody would let him do so.

Price bet that it was family stuff. Pictures, heirlooms maybe some trinkets or what have you from family members (eg. a hair clip from his sister, a cigar from his dad, etc.)

Alejandro said it was different bottles of booze he had picked up from missions, reasoning the man was Scottish so it would make sense.

Rudy had gone the opposite direction and said it was food cause they all knew how much of a foodie Soap was and how severely pissed he got when any of them took his food form the common rooms.

Ghost had shrugged and said it was filled with his old journals since he knew Soap worked through them so fast, and he had never seen what Soap did with old ones anyway.

Soap knows about the bet and he refuses to tell any of them what’s in the box, always deflecting and shrugging whenever he’s asked about it. Because it’s his box of secrets and for once, he doesn’t want to share it with anyone else.

While him not telling is in part due to his own embarrassment it’s also because the box is filled with what the others would consider trash, but they’re special things to him.

It’s filled with trinkets and little bits and bobs from his team members. Different things they picked up during a mission and gave to him or something he had picked up to remember a particular mission for whatever reason.

There’s pretty rocks from Gaz that caught his eye and he just brought with him. They always end up with Soap cause the other man just leaves them in his pockets and forgets about them.

Price gives him snacks and foods from the regions he’s gone on a mission to and Soap keeps the packaging. Cleans it out and keeps them cause he’s a bit of a hoarder like that.

He’s got bullet casings and beer cap lids from missions and nights out with Rudy and Alejandro. No two beer caps are the same cause the two like giving him different alcohols to try and the bullet casings are from the last bullet that ended a mission.

Ghost gives him little vials filled with dirt and he always claims that it’s only because he had picked up too much to fit in his mason jars but Soap knows he does it on purpose. He knows that Ghost picks up his dirt jars and thinks of Soap and getting him some and it’s so heart touching.

It’s also got photos of the team from the ends of missions or night outs and some sketches that he considers too private to leave in his journals. Nothing erotic or anything but things that show the softer moments of their lives or, on occasion, Simon’s face.

So yeah, maybe it is filled with trash and useless crap but it’s his and he doesn’t find any of it to be useless. He loves his little box of trinkets that remind him of times with his team mates, it’s a home away from home for him.

#random fic prompt #fic prompt #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #141 x soap #soap cares #soap’s got a box of secrets #ghosts jars of dirt #ghostsoap is more hinted at #family 141 #emotional soap

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sunshinegremlin · 7 months

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My September 2023 pocket calendar doodles!

Last month I shared this idea for those who struggle to keep a calendar. Feel free to reblog this and share yours if you do this, or use the tag 'pocket calendar doodles'!

My post about this type of calendar is pinned on my blog 💛

#pocket calendar doodles #calendar #bujo #bullet journal #journal #art #doodle #neurodivergent #mental health #memory #adhd #autistic

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