#entry logs

[themanymanytimessansalmostdied]

[chensionmi488]

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Not only does this smart lock enhance security, but it also adds a touch of modern technology to your home. Say goodbye to fumbling for keys and hello to a smarter, more secure way of living. Embrace the future of home security with SwitchBot's smart lock at your front door!

[akanemnon]

We didn't even get an answer, and we never will (at least it's not determination)

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[rotglass]

some of my favorite mecha gifs ive saved recently,, hehe

so cool,,

[6okuto]

Not Saying “I Love You” Back

Kuroo, Osamu, Akaashi | if i do this again later u guys can't get mad ok. not my fault

Tetsuro’s words are gurgled as he brushes his teeth, and you smile one more time at the fluffy pink headband keeping hair out of his face through the video call. “I’ll call you later, Tetsu. I gotta get breakfast started.”

“Mkay.” He looks at the screen. “Mye, maby. Luhv youh.”

“Bye, Tetsu.”

He manages to blink before you end the call, then stare at your phone for the one you know is bound to come. And it does.

Answering, the first thing you see is a closeup of your boyfriend’s face, brows raised. He’s still brushing his teeth as he speaks, “Ehkshcuje me.”

“Did you forget something?”

The toothbrush stills in his mouth as Tetsuro brings the phone even closer, making his audio sound like its from a shitty toaster, cutting out at his loudest. “I fink yo— forgoh shomethin!”

Humming, you answer through stifled laughter. “I don’t think so? I bought ingredients yesterday.”

He squints. “Yho mak me shick.”

You snort. “Okay, sorry, baby, I love you. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

Tetsuro moves the camera away to spit toothpaste into his sink, then looks straight at you. “You wanted to break my heart. I get it, the love of my life hates me, that’s fine—”

“I’m hanging up,” you sing-song, finally making your way to the kitchen as he gasps. “I’ll make you a plate, okay? Love you!”

“You better!”

“’Kay, see you tonight, hon. Love you.”

“Mm, bye, Samu.”

Two seconds pass before Osamu stops tying his shoelace and looks up at you. He carries on, making a loop and wrapping the around it. “And?”

You glance around the entrance way, feigning confusion. “...See you tonight?”

The lace bunny is completed, and Osamu stands to his full height with raised brows. A beat passes while you look at each other, the empty space of your returned affection hanging between your gazes. He narrows his eyes and reaches to pinch your cheek.

“Ack, Samu—” You hold onto his forearm with a groan.

“You.” He leans closer, huffing. “See what happens when I stop tellin’ you I love you. I could die as soon as I step through the door.”

“Oh my god,” you sputter through incredulous laughter. “Okay, okay, sorry. I love you, I’ll see you tonight.”

Osamu release your cheek, satisfied. He presses a kiss where you can still feel the warm sting of his pinching fingers then stretches his arms with a sigh, finally ready to get the day started. “What I thought. See you soon.”

“Bye, Keiji!”

The door swings open, and you hear the tell-tale two two steps as he makes sure his shoe is on properly. “Bye, love you.”

He’s met with silence.

The door closes without footsteps through.

You’re facing away as Keiji pads to your bedroom and peeks inside. He quietly says your name, and you turn. “Keiji?”

“Did you…hear me?”

“Say bye? Yeah.”

He hesitates, shuffling a few inches more through the door that squeaks with his movement. “Yeah…okay. I love you.”

You smile in response, and Keiji pouts. “Is something…wrong?”

“Huh? No?”

Your boyfriend’s pout deepens a fraction, and you let out a breathy laugh before moving toward him. “Sorry, I was just teasing, Keiji. I love you too.”

The breath he was holding escapes heavy, his shoulders falling in relief. Your hands find his and you pull him closer to kiss his temple. As he intertwines your fingers, he mumbles, “Should’ve known. Love you, see you later.”

[ghost-bxrd]

Subject class 223 spotted with a subject of unknown origin. Possible category— abyssal?

New subject appears to be of undocumented species. Bioluminescent membrane may be used in hunting, further research pending. Length of tail may point to relations with local snake species? Unlikely, research pending. Thin tail and visible bone structure may point to possible malnutrition/starvation.

Subject appears to be very young. Subject class 223 likely to assume paternal role again as he it did with [REDACTED]. Subject class 223 demonstrates remarkable tolerance with new subject, developing new behavioral patterns in response to that of the new subject. Integration into subject class 223’s pod pending? Further observation required.

Note to self: do not let [REDACTED] see. Redirect expeditions sw.

— Log entry 3.18, Researcher: [REDACTED]

[caffichai]

Toddifons! (and bonus version w/o tanktop)

Working in the shop on a hot summer day is, well, hot

Hey, since you're here, check this out!

[spockvarietyhour]

He can't even make a log entry!

[thirteendaysintaunton]

gutted that they cut the hotel scene with Camila and Daisy where she tells Daisy what she needs to hear and about how her favorite song by the band was the one Daisy wrote because it reminded her of her first love and how it hurt because she couldn't have it but that's why she loved it so much and how it was that push from Camila that inspired Daisy to leave the band and finally get sober and therapy like that was my favorite scene in the book

[psymachine]

if rob wasn't a coward, he would meet me in a field somewhere and let mac and dennis out of their crate at an equidistant point between us to see who they run to

[carlyraejepsans]

AREN'T YOU FORGETTING SOMETHING?

[fromdove]

› BEHIND THE WINGS ; A GIRL NAMED DOVE ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

<══════════✴︎══════════⊹═══════════>

— 𝓔very 𝓣ime 𝓘 𝓞verthink, 𝓐 𝓟oet 𝓖ains 𝓗er 𝓦ings

<══════════✴︎══════════⊹════════✴︎══>

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ the dove & the sea 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

dove of mine,

hi again. hi. hello. bonjour. salutations. or if it's the first time... then oh, you found me. congrats, detective. i’m probably doing something painfully mundane right now — staring at a wall, overthinking the concept of ... everything — but for your imagination’s sake, let’s say i’m sipping tea and reading sylvia plath’s collected works while pretending not to spiral. (sylvia & me are spiritually linked. i would slap & scold her for half her shit and then sob into her shoulder. duality.)

i’m 15. i go by dove — soft by design, featherlight. i liked the idea of being called something gentle. the world’s too loud and too much. i just wanted to be something calm and still. something that doesn’t take up space unless it’s invited to.

but if we’re already trauma‑bonded… if we’ve had breakdowns at 2am in the same digital trenches… if you’ve seen me type with shaking hands or confess things i should’ve journaled… then you can call me dovie, or angel, or aveliraix (yes that’s the birth name), or aveli, or or or whatever falls sweet off your tongue. but lets be honest even if we havent, i wouldnt mind the nicknames... wink wink

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somewhere, dove awaits,

i shift. i believe in the law of assumption, i dabble in a bit of non-duality and in the strange, terrifying beauty of quantum mechanics. i believe that reality is bendable, that thought can make matter, that self is a word with loose borders. not because i want to sound profound ! im not. i dont have the answers to the universe. im not here to convince you i do.

this isn’t a gimmick. it’s just part of who i am and what i believe. i’m always happy to talk about it — curiously, honestly, even imperfectly — but not with people who treat open minds like something embarrassing. i’m not here to argue with someone who’s already decided i’m ridiculous. i’m not going to hand over my experiences for dissection. if that’s what you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. i don’t owe clarity to close‑minded people

but if you’re if you’re curious, if some part of you wants to listen — then pull up a chair

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in dove's handwriting,

i’ve loved books and pencils and the smell of stationery since before i could afford any of it. i know what it felt like to trace the edge of a gel pen cap. to read a library book with cracked spines.

drawing, writing — i’m not the best. but i don’t care. i’ve lived through enough kitchen-floor lectures from my mother about pencil shavings and snapped pencils to have earned the right to say i love it anyway.

i love the scratch of pen on paper. the way a blank page looks. the tiny ceremony of picking which notebook deserves the next thought.

if you handed me a pack of color pencils or a set of new fineliners, i’d probably cry. because it reminds me of being 7 and building entire worlds out of dollar-store ballpoints.

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where dove flew,

i was born in syria (on a farm in a small village), then lived in lebanon for a bit, and moved to australia when i was four. those places never really left me. syria and lebanon still live in me, so do the sound of family voices in the distance. family. grief. the corner stores. the stories told through cracked phone calls and old photos.

ethnically, i’m half armenian and half assyrian, but i usually just say armenian because it’s simpler. i don’t speak armenian, wish i did! but i do speak english, arabic and one dialect of aramaic (not that good at aramaic though!)

and oh, olive oil. middle eastern olive oil has me every time. i used to just drink it straight, slurping that thick, peppery gold. nothing else tastes like home quite like that <33 oh how i love and miss my middle eastern home

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miss dove (if you're nasty),

special dedication to my first ever teacher (and my english teacher) . . .

there’s a teacher who’s always in my heart. when i first came to australia and started school at five, i didn’t speak a lick of english, but she was so sweet, so patient. i cried after that first day because i missed her, already grown attached. she brought me books, color pencils, markers, stamps, stickers — little treasures that made this strange new country feel like home.

i love her. she was the only teacher who really got me. she’s still with me, always in my mind. and then there was the redheaded angel of a teacher who would come into the class of 5 year old me and pull me aside to teach me english. also patient and kind, opening doors to words i didn’t yet know how to say <33

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signed: dove , , , xoxo

⢸⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⠻⣶⣤⡶⢾⡿⠁⠀⢠⣄⢀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣼⠷⠀⠀⠁⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⣾⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⡀⠒⠻⠿⣿⡿⠿⠓⠂⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡇⣤⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣤⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠏⠀⢀⠀⠀⠿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣴⣿⡿⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠁⠀⢀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣟⠿⠿⠿⡿⠋⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣶⣶⣿⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣹⣿⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣿⡿⠟⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⠿⢿⣷⣀⢀⣿⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[rotglass]

[6okuto]

"I'm so sorry."

"Baby, it's okay."

"But I hold yer hand every day, how do I not know what yer ring size is?" Atsumu groans, exasperated by himself.

His groceries have been hastily placed on the counter, dismissed in excitement to give you the gift that now taunts him with every slide between your first and second knuckles, metal and jewel your favourite colour glinting in the kitchen window's sunlight.

"I don't think the regular person can figure out a ring size through that," you try to comfort him. "Besides, we can probably get it resized somewhere."

Unmoved, your boyfriend pulls out his phone, frown still etched onto his face while he starts to type.

You wait a second before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Lookin' up how to measure ring sizes."

"Now?"

"Well we know I'm gonna need it for a much more expensive ring later so I might as well figure it out now," he says with a casuality that nearly knocks you off your feet.

"Wait—"

By the time you process his words, Atsumu's already screenshotted a tutorial and is walking to the home office, the groceries left for something infinitely more important in his mind. "Do we have a ruler?"

[ghost-bxrd]

[REDACTED] came and handed me footage of the pod in… startlingly good quality. I am not sure as to [REDACTED] motivations, but I won’t be letting my guard down. There’s too much at stake. I won’t do that to them. To him.

[REDACTED] did not comment the footage and left again just as swiftly. He also left me a small folder of drawings of the pod. I have taken the liberty to add some notes to them. I won’t deny that I am unnerved by [REDACTED] response to… well, I suppose I may just as well say it. A traitor.

[REDACTED] has never been anything but loyal to [REDACTED]. This apparent “change of heart”… I don’t buy it.

But I won’t deny that I’m also a little grateful. These weeks without any sightings of the pod have made me anxious.

…. Did [REDACTED] notice?

File Notes:

Personal files, recovered from the sunken remains of the [REDACTED] research facility, Researcher: [REDACTED], Researcher status: deceased

[themanymanytimessansalmostdied]

Here's a guide in case you wanna take a crack at translating this. Good luck!