#day one journal

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Whatever the result is, I will attempt to recreate it as a drawing!

[stuckinapril]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[puppyeared]

act 4 :(

@chipper-smol and i came to a realization

[ysaona]

[nomad-skateboarding]

Day One Journal Prompt – Love 🫶 – Nomad Skateboarding

[erinwantstowrite]

will peter be like an older brother to miles in lof ?

absolutely he is

there's about an 11 year difference between them (Miles is 14, Peter is 25), so it's a lot more like the older brother type of relationship that Peter has with Tim (despite Tim being his uncle). Peter has mentored(ish) other young heroes by this point (mostly in the Bats' universe) but since Miles is another Spider-Man, Peter takes up most of the responsibility in making sure Miles is safe and teaching him the ropes. That's HIS sassy child genius, thank you, and he's not a sidekick, he's Spider-Man.

He was also adamant that Miles tell his parents immediately, and gets along great with Rio and Jeff.

Which is HILARIOUS to me because at this point in time, Peter has built up a persona for the public eye just like the Bats did. In Rio and Jeff's eyes, they're gobsmacked that the clumsy, scatterbrained, and "scaredy-cat" kid that Tony Stark adopted a while ago is Spider-Man. (Technically, none of this is a lie. Because Peter is a terrible liar unless it's For the Jokes, and often comes across this way even if he hadn't meant to.) They're wondering how he pulled that off since he's the same age as Spider-Man, who is known to be an Avenger, and associates in the same circles as Peter. It helps that Peter and Spider-Man have been in a social media war, and that Peter works at the Daily Bugle that is known for disliking Spider-Man. Peter's been taking lessons for years atp to keep his identity safe. Which is also bonus points to Peter, because the two can tell that secret identities mean everything to him, but he told them who he was in a heartbeat (literally the very first thing he did when he found Miles).

In other words: Peter was ecstatic to become a teacher for his own matching superhero kid and it's one of the most important bonds in his life. That's his baby brother now!!

[crnl-chicken-tots]

them

[obsob]

one small step for. kitties

[crispyliza]

I just realized that early fanfiction sites provided me my first sex education.

[magicaledford]

I will not pretend to understand my dreams, but this one in parcitular wouldn't leave me alone, where @patricia-taxxon invaded my dreamscape.

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[veggiecorner]

Zelda: Gods Link is probably disgusted at my inability to do my job. He probably thinks i'm wasting time just working on sheikah technology. I don't care. I really don't anymore.

Link, writing on his journal while kicking his feet: the princess looked at me today. She was very pretty today!!!

[tennant-the-tigger]

Grief.

Sometimes the only cure for grief is to grieve.

It's interesting how people cope differently when losing a loved one. I have a track record of drawing out my grief ever since I learnt how to draw characters, here's a personal one that I drew when I disappeared last year after my dad passed away.

My Stranger Things Art | Steve’s McNuggets |

[stuckinapril]

Just a girl who wants to be her mother’s daughter in the ways that matter

[hoofpeet]

Last of the little personas/fursonas or whatnot I haven't posted before :]c

[kxttqi]

ㅤ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 .

t. kageyama x f!reader ✧  fluff ; swearing ; suga lowkey being a matchmaker

この 物語 で ⇢ you think black nails would look good on him

🎧 ✧ best paired with : movie by junny

ㅤ

the hum of the air conditioner mingles with the distant chatter from the inn’s hallway, filling the room with a murmur. you’re perched on the edge of kageyama’s futon, the warm glow from the bedside lamp casting a gentle light on his focused movements as he stretches his muscles, the shadows playing across the contours of his build.

“you know,” you say, scooting closer to him, “for someone who spends all day setting, you’ve got surprisingly nice hands.”

kageyama freezes mid-stretch, gaze dropping to his hands. he flexes his fingers a few times, as if seeing them anew. “they need to be strong enough for a good toss,” he mutters, his tone unusually soft. you wonder about the countless times these hands have practiced, each toss an attempt to defy gravity and reach perfection.

you lean in closer, surveying the ridges and lines on his palms. “strong, sure. but they’re also... delicate. like they could be doing more than just tossing volleyballs.”

his eyes narrow, a mix of confusion and intensity, a noticeable blush making its way up his cheeks. “what?”

a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “nothing, nothing. but remember our bet? if you made even one bad serve, i’d get to paint your nails.”

kageyama’s face reddens slightly more, and he shifts uncomfortably. “that was a joke. and my serves were perfect.” there’s a stubbornness in his voice, a need to maintain his image, yet the blush betrays a softer side.

you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “perfect, huh? i distinctly remember one that was way too easy for the other team to handle.” 

there’s a flash of annoyance in kageyama’s eyes, but it’s tempered by a reluctant hint of amusement. “...fine. but no weird designs.” 

your triumphant smile widens as you reach into your bag for a small bottle of black nail polish. the bottle shimmers in the soft light, the hue of its dark contents mimicking that of kageyama’s locks. you place your worn-out notebook on your lap as a makeshift table, thoughtless doodles adorning the light brown cover. you unscrew the cap, and the sharp tangy scent of the polish fills the room. 

you take his hand, immediately noticing the warmth of his skin. his hand feels firm, and yet almost fragile. you guide his fingers onto the surface of your notebook gently, before applying the first stroke of polish on his neatly trimmed index nail. you giggle from the way kageyama’s hand flinches subtly from the coolness of the air as it came in contact with the wet polish, and the way he averted his ebony eyes as soon as you look up questioningly. the second you look back down, his focus on your face again. the slight furrow of your brows, and the way you bite your lower lip in concentration—it’s almost mesmerizing. he notices the small details, like a loose strand of hair falling across your forehead and how pretty your eyelashes look from this angle.

you carefully apply the second coat, the polish gliding over his nails with a satisfying smoothness. the brush swishes softly, and kageyama feels the bristles tickling his skin lightly as a spot of black appears to the side of his nail. it’s followed by a small “oh shit” as you quickly use a q-tip to erase the polish before it dried. the scent of the polish mingles with the faint fragrance of your light perfume, a scent he’s come to associate with you, comforting and familiar.

holding his hand up to the light as the final coat dries, the glossy black polish catches the golden glow from the lamp. “there,” you say, satisfaction evident in your voice. “how’d i do?”

kageyama flexes his fingers again, making him feel oddly self-conscious. he glances at your face, seeing the pride in your expression. it’s an expression that makes him feel oddly proud too, despite his earlier reluctance. a small “hmph” is your answer, but you knew his true opinion from the way his eyes held a faint glimmer.

the silence stretches comfortably between you, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. you suddenly reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, your fingers slotted perfectly between his. kageyama becomes aware of the the subtle sheen of your nails. the polish wasn't a stark white or a vibrant red, but a whisper of color, an echo of your own skin tone. it wasn't a flat, one-note nude, though. a hint of rose shimmered beneath the surface, catching the light like a pearl held up to the sun. it was the kind of shade that drew the eye not with its boldness, but with its elegance. 

“look,” you say, holding both your hands up to the curtain of light. “we’re matching.”

kageyama’s eyes follow the movement, taking in the soft shade of your nails next to the bold black of his. he feels a strange flutter in his chest as he observes the way your fingers curl around his. 

before he can say anything, sugawara’s head pokes around the doorframe, followed closely by hinata’s expression of surprise. “oh? i didn’t know you were into painting your nails, kageyama!”

“i’m not, dumbass!” kageyama’s quick to retaliate as he snatches his hand back, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

sugawara chuckles. “well, if it’s y/n that’s the one doing them, i don’t think he minds.” “no! yes!” kageyama blurts, as you burst out laughing beside him.

you catch sugawara’s not-so-subtle wink as he leaves, dragging a protesting hinata along with him whispering something along the lines of “maybe they’ll confess and kiss if we leave them alone for a bit…”

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

you sit on the bench, heart pounding in rhythm with the squeaking of sneakers and the rhythmic thuds of the ball against the floor. it's day two of the spring tournament and karasuno is facing the powerhouse school, inarizaki. the referee's whistle shrieks, and the first serve lands squarely in daichi's arms, earning a chorus of "nice receive!" from the team. kageyama stands poised, hands outstretched, ready to unleash his signature perfect set. he hears tanaka's yell of "left, kageyama!"

but as kageyama glances at his hands, a flicker of black catches his eye. the nail polish. memories flood back - your warm touch, the scent of your perfume mingling with the polish, the warmth of your hand intertwined with his. his carefully constructed pre-set focus crumbles. the ball hangs in the air, tantalizingly close. his fingers come into contact with the ball far too late, with far too much force. the ball rockets past tanaka's outstretched arms and lands squarely on hinata's face, sending the spiker tumbling backwards with a yelp.

"what the heck, kageyama?!" hinata groans, his hand covering the side of his face.

silence descends upon the court. confusion clouds tanaka's face, daichi raises an eyebrow, and sugawara coughs into his fist, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh.

"kageyama! what the hell was that?" ukai roars from his place beside you on the bench.

tsukishima chimes in with a smug grin, "looks like the king forgot how to set."

you really are going to be the death of him.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.