#¡Fanart♡

[starswhimsy]

I made u fanart <3 :)

OH MY GOODNESS IT SO CUTE 😍

I love it !!

[zazrichor]

DANDELION | overcoming hardship, healing, resilience, hope

I had the pleasure of painting the illustrious Dorian for @daflowerzine 🌼 leftover sales are now closed but you can still get a print of Dorian here!

[mimimar]

(open pages for better image quality)

the moment I heard elphaba's delivery of "there's a girl i know..." in i'm not that girl i knew i had to draw this comic, i strongly recommend listening to it while you read for the full experience!

this comic is a companion to this piece (which was inspired by glinda's delivery of the same line in the i'm not that girl reprise).

pages 1-4 are from elphie's pov, pages 5-8 are from glinda's.

prints of individual pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

flower meanings in order of appearance:

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ how to fake date with fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna .ᐣ very much limited experience.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who agreed with his teammates – get a girlfriend before the season’s over. he just didn’t expect to want more than just the win.

he just needs to dodge some girl who’s been aggressively flirting with him, and you need an excuse to avoid a creepy dude who won’t stop texting you.

“we’ll fake date," sukuna proposes with that cocky smirk. “it’s not like we’ll catch feelings or anything.”

“are you sure? i don’t want that creep to bother me for the 56th time this week.”

“trust me, sunshine.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would take the acting slow but convincingly. he would start with holding your hands publicly while telling his dry jokes to you so all the people would believe him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would brushing his thumb over your hand. he’d play it cool — but the way his hand tightened in yours would give him away.

“it’s all for the show,” he would say.

but the way your fingers intertwine with his says otherwise.

“does it really have to be like this?”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would would wrap one of your hair ties or bracelets around his wrist during every game, claiming it’s his ‘lucky charm.’ if you ever ask about it, he’ll say, “worked last time, didn’t it?”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who constantly reminds himself that you’re just friends — even when his heart races every time you smile at him.

err . . . you’re just a good friend to him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would slowly realize how pretty and captivating you are. from the way your eyes stare at his when you ramble about your day to him to the way your lips seem to soft while you speak, he just wants to feel how soft it is.

when you mentioned liking someone else, he would sit beside you, fists curling at his sides. his face would stay blank, but his voice would darken. “he better not disappoint you.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna who think you deserve better than that trashy guy you mentioned. and he’s the best.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would sneak you into his team’s closed practice.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who always reserves the spot next to him — bus rides, team meals, wherever. if anyone tries to sit down, they’ll be greeted with a warning glare and clipped, “taken.”

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would raise an eyebrow when you suggest to have a matching phone charms with him – just for fun. but he’II just shrug it off and let you pick which one you like.

when you actually really get him a matching phone charm, and even though it’s small and kind of cutesy, he’d attach it to his phone without hesitation.

front and center in the team’s photo, fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna’s fake girlfriend’s bracelet is right there on his wrist, and his matching phone charm would peeks out of his pocket proudly. if you say anything, he’ll just chuckle.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would take you out on a date to keep up on the act. but the way his thumb brushes your knuckles? that doesn’t feel fake. the way he’II hold your hand with him and place it in his pocket? doesn’t sound too fake either.

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would using you as an excuse.

“can’t go out tonight — my girlfriend doesn’t allow me.”

oh, you both know that’s a massive lie.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would carry your bag since it seems to heavy for you. (even when it’s not, for certain times.)

fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna who would feel if he will loses a game or feels like he underperformed, he’ll drag you to the gym late at evening or night, you call it.

sweat drips down his forehead as he sinks another shot. “49,” you call out. sukuna’s breathing is ragged, but he looks at you sitting there, waiting — and that’s all he needs to finish strong.

after the 50th shot, sukuna collapses on the floor, chest heaving. you walk over and drop down next to him, brushing damp hair from his forehead. he doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours.

gasps and shouts would fill the gym when the members saw you wearing sukuna’s jersey. “since when?” someone demands. fake boyfriend athlete!sukuna kisses your temple. “since they’re mine.”

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who never shows it, but he does get nervous before big games.

he won’t say it outright, but you’ll catch him squeezing your hand a little tighter or resting his forehead against yours.

you later then would give your hair tie to him, telling that it’II be a silly “good luck” charm for him.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna who would open his wallet before his game begin, revealing a polaroid of you wearing his jersey number under the sunlight. he suddenly needs to be remember who he’s playing for.

he would spot you the second he steps onto the court. his eyes would narrow slightly, that nervous, yet cocky smirk tugging at his lips when you catch his gaze.

if he makes a shot, he’d turn toward you, wiping sweat from his brow and flashing you a knowing grin — like you’re the only one he’s playing for.

when his team scores, he would glance at you in the stands, lifting his chin as if to say, did you see that, sunshine?

if you cheer for him, his smirk would deepen, and you’d catch the subtle way he straightens up — fueled by the fact that you’re watching. if you smile or wave at him, he’d bite back a grin before turning back toward the game.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who would exclaimed energizedly as his team scores.

sukuna would walk straight toward you, ignoring his teammates’ cheers, would grab your wrist and pull you close, sweat-slick and breathless. “i told you, you’re my good luck charm," he’d murmur before brushing his thumb across your jaw.

fake boyfriend!athlete sukuna, who doesn’t care how sweaty he is — he will hug you immediately after his games.

“miss me?” he’ll question, pressing a kiss to your temple while you complain about how gross he is. “you’re smelling like rotten eggs with outdated pickles.”

you give him a playful judgemental look.

he just laughs warming-ly – except his teammates eyeing him up and down for noticing how soft he has been with you.

[plaidcowboy]

jealous of jimmy

( synopsis ) — clark becomes upset and a little insecure about the fact that you and jimmy have been so close recently, but thankfully you’re there to reassure him that he still has his chance with you! requested here.

( warnings ) — insecure, sorta jealous, clark! also a quick thank u for 400 followers i love u all!

“You look upset.” Lois chuckles lightly as she approaches Clark’s desk, resting one hand casually on the back of his chair, the other occupied with a coffee that tastes more like sugar than coffee.

Clark jolts slightly, immediately glancing away from where you’re standing with Jimmy. He pulls off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. “No, I don’t. I’m fine,” he mutters.

But it was painfully clear he wasn’t.

He’d been watching you all morning.. not with those usual soft, dreamy looks he gave you when you were buried in research, the kind that made it seem like he was daydreaming about your future together. No, this time his expression was distant. Cold. Somber. And of course, there was a reason.

Lately, you’d been spending a lot more time at Jimmy’s desk than usual. Sure, you and Jimmy were friends, always had been, but the closeness had become… noticeable.

And Clark would know. He spends, frankly, about 75% of his workday glancing over at your desk. But that’s not the point.

He lets out another sigh under Lois’s inquisitive gaze, eventually nodding in Jimmy’s direction. When she follows his line of sight, nothing initially seems out of the ordinary. Jimmy’s seated at his desk, looking up at you as you lean casually against the edge. The two of you are talking, until you reach out and gently brush Jimmy’s hair out of his face.

Lois’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” she murmurs.

“They just seem… closer than usual today,” Clark says with a furrowed brow, eyes narrowing as Jimmy stands and pulls you into a hug. You return it, one arm wrapping around him while your other hand rests gently on the back of his head.

Lois frowns thoughtfully, releasing her grip on Clark’s chair and stepping away, clearly turning over thoughts in her head, mostly, why her best friend hadn’t mentioned anything about starting something with Jimmy.

But the truth? There wasn’t anything going on between you and Jimmy. Not romantically, anyway. He’d come to you, needing a shoulder after making the difficult decision to finally break things off with Eve for good. He felt awful, and you, being who you are, were there for him.

Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Clark finally approached your desk later that day. It was near the end of your shift when you heard him softly clear his throat behind you. You turned to find him standing there, nervously running a hand through his curls, offering a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Um… hey. Hi,” he said, voice quiet.

You turned in your chair fully, smiling as your eyes met his. “Hi, you. Thought you were never gonna walk over here,” you teased, giving him a gentle nudge.

He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “Yeah, I, uh… saw you talking to Jimmy. Didn’t want to interrupt anything… whatever you two had going on.”

Your smile faded slightly as you caught the edge in his tone. There was something else there.. Confusion? Jealousy? Hurt?

“Yeah…” you said slowly, watching the way his fingers fidgeted in front of him. “What was that supposed to mean?”

“What was what?” he replied, a small frown forming.

“Why are you acting weird about me talking to Jimmy?”

“I’m not.”

“Clark, you are.”

“I am not.”

“Clark.” You stared at him, brows raised, until he finally sighed in defeat and slid down to sit on the floor beside your desk, leaning his head back against the side as he looked up at you.

“Are you guys like… I don’t know. Dating or something?” he asked quietly, dropping his gaze to his lap. “You two looked really comfortable earlier.”

A soft smile flickered across your face before quickly fading. You looked down at Clark, sulking like a kicked puppy, if he had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between his legs.

“What’s it to you?” you asked gently.

He gave a small shrug, his thumbs nervously circling each other in his lap.

“I just… I thought we had something going on. For a while now, actually.” You sat in silence for a moment, watching him, his nervous posture, his flushed ears, the unspoken fear in his voice.

Reaching down, you lifted his chin with your fingers, guiding his eyes back to yours.

“There’s nothing going on between Jimmy and me, Clark,” you said softly. “Not like that.”

Clark blinked, his eyes searching yours.

“So… I can still ask you out on a date?” he asked, a shy, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, grinning as his entire face flushed.

“Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You can ask me on a date, Clark.”

( tags ) — @pittsick @dumbbandpoetic @alvi-alvi-alvi @jordiemeow @hrtfilm @ryyvkkr @freddyfazblair @cryptic-doe @summerwriting @eeveedream @cestdommage @ohyouluckysaint @weeeeeeeeeeeezle @matildavol6 @fishie-baby-apple @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @plutosbearr @purple-1995 @i-wanna-be-your-muse @bbsaeko @rexthanatos @kaorisakamotofan @piatosniathenie @Icvgty-4929 [to be added]

[ballnutty]

“Jason is rash, impulsive and reckless!!”

Jason Todd:

[ideksams]

🍷🤍

[thebrainrotsreal]

proper explorations of my grievances AU! :D basically, Dan never comes to fruition when Danny’s ire isn’t in his ghost half, but his human half! A half that immediately tries to slaughter the former in a bout of grief stricken self loathing! Vlad know has two “sons” to soothe before they kill each other! It’s a beautiful disaster.

[princington]

their number 1 girls

[lianella-artist]

angel's theme earrings

+ alt version with kisses below :3!!!

chu chu <3

[floredaqueen]

♥︎¡¡𝐒𝐀𝐉𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒!!♡

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤—

[soupdweller]

:)

[retquits]

butch march for anon! 🔨

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂 hated himself every time he ended up arguing with you.

hell, even if it’s unintentional, he couldn’t bear to see you isolate yourself instead of communicating, knowing it was when you just want to be alone. but the awful thoughts in your head (like he had another woman) making him wish he could take them all out of your mind.

even though you told him to go away, and used his full name, nanami wouldn’t stop. he’d hold you and reassured you with kind, soothing words.

and if you did, he’d just hold onto you and speak soothingly to calm you down. he brought you to the bed and made sure you both got cozy. he leaned against the headboard while you were in his lap.

he’d wipe away the tears on your face and the ones gathering in your eyes. his other hand would softly brush your cheek, as he apologized for the hurtful words he didn’t intend.

he’d take your knuckle and kiss the marriage ring on your index finger. your heart fluttered, even though you couldn't stand him. kissing every spot on it, he would later rest your hand on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, making sure you know he’s yours; all while looking at you with affection as his hand gently caressed your hair.

if he successfully comforts you, he won’t let you go, not even to use the bathroom. he’s refuse to sleep by himself, worried you might escape. he’d sleep on the couch, the bathtub, or even the cabinet, but for you? don’t expect too much.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you would notice a breakfast is already prepared beside the coffee table, with a little note “i’m sorry for yesterday’s occurrence, my love. i've to go to work, but i already kissed your forehead beforehand.”

you found yourself smiling widely at the sight.

[plaidcowboy]

“just hold me”

( synopsis ) — a badly injured clark comes to you after a losing fight against the kaiju. not only does he need to be patched up, but his ego needs a little fixing to. and luckily for you, your praise does just the trick.

( warnings ) — none. suuuuuper fluffy n cute. i love sensitive crybaby puppyboy clark!

( tags ) — @pittsick @dumbbandpoetic @alvi-alvi-alvi @jordiemeow @hrtfilm @ryyvkkr @freddyfazblair @cryptic-doe @summerwriting @eeveedream @cestdommage @ohyouluckysaint @weeeeeeeeeeeezle @matildavol6 @fishie-baby-apple @drunkinthemiddleoftheday [to be added]

“Shit,” you whisper from where you sit on your bed, a deep frown tugging at your mouth as your teeth press down on your index knuckle. Your eyes are locked on the screen in front of you, anxiety etched into every part of your face.

The TV plays live coverage of the chaos downtown. The setting sun casts a warm hue through your window, an almost cruel contrast to what you’re watching unfold. Superman soars across the sky, moving fast and focused, his fist connecting with the kaiju’s eye and forcing a roar of pain from its throat. The blow stuns it, but only for a second.

The monster recovers quickly, lashing out with a powerful arm. Its massive claws grip Superman’s cape, yanking him out of the sky and slamming him through a high rise. You flinch as glass explodes outward, his body crumpling against the steel frame inside before disappearing into the shadow of the building’s interior.

You can’t watch anymore. Your hand reaches for the remote and shuts the screen off just as the Justice Gang steps in, finally giving Superman a chance to catch his breath.

Silence fills the room like smoke. You sit there, frozen, your hands still clutching the fabric of your blanket as your mind races through everything you just saw. You know Superman is stronger than anyone. Practically invincible. But that kind of impact would break bones on anyone. And he’s still human in some ways. He still feels pain. That has to mean something.

Before you can sink too deep into your thoughts, the sound of glass crunching in the distance makes your head snap up. The noise barely registers before your bedroom door creaks open and Clark steps through.

He looks wrecked.

There’s blood on his lip, slowly trailing down to his chin. His suit is in pieces, torn in too many places to count, revealing scrapes and bruises along his torso and arms. His eyes are red, glossy with unshed tears, and for a second he just stands there, chest heaving from exhaustion. Then he moves.

He crosses the room and collapses onto the bed on top of you without a word, his arms wrapping tight around your middle. His face presses into your chest, the heat of him soaking into your skin. You hear him sniffle before everything else goes still.

“Clark..?” you whisper, hesitant, your hand slowly lifting to rest in his hair. Your fingers begin to move without thinking, brushing gently through the tangled strands. He lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders starting to fall, the tension draining from his body with every slow movement of your hand.

“No,” he mumbles into your chest. His voice is rough, strained. “Don’t wanna talk. Just hold me.”

“I can do that,” you whisper, your fingers continuing to move gently through his hair, the quiet rhythm comforting for both of you.

You sit together like that in silence for a while. The room is dim now, lit only by the last slivers of sunlight filtering through your window. The sounds of the city outside feel distant, like they belong to another world. All you hear are the soft groans of pain Clark tries to muffle against your chest.

Eventually, your other hand lifts to tilt his face up. His cheek is warm against your palm. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, barely there but enough to make him look at you. His eyes are glassy and tired, and your heart breaks all over again.

“Let me clean you up,” you whisper. “Just some ointment. A few bandages. We’ll get you home to heal tomorrow. The sun’s already down.”

Clark nods. The motion is small, slow. Tears slip from his eyes again, rolling down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt as he whispers, “Alright… yeah.”

You help him out of what’s left of his suit, easing him into a clean pair of sweatpants. His skin is warm and bruised under your touch, but he doesn’t flinch. He just sits on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly, his hands moving under your shirt to rest against your sides. He keeps his touch gentle, steady, like he needs the connection to ground him.

You press the last bandage over the cut on his forehead, then place the ointment tube aside. Your hands come to his face again, thumbs resting on either cheek as you look at him closely.

“How’s the pain medicine feeling?” you ask quietly.

“Hasn’t kicked in yet,” he mutters. His tone is flat, but you can tell it’s more than the pain. It’s everything else. The failure he thinks he’s shouldering alone.

“You did a good job out there,” you murmur, brushing one of the bandages flat softly. “That was more than anyone should’ve been expected to handle.”

“I lost,” he says, barely above a whisper. His hand moves from your waist to wipe at his eyes. “I didn’t do anything good.”

“You did everything you could, Clark. That’s what matters,” you say softly, tilting his chin up again to keep his eyes on yours. “You might be a metahuman, but you’re still only one man. And you saved people. A lot of people. That thing would’ve crushed half the city if you hadn’t slowed it down. You gave others time to escape. You gave the Justice Gang time to arrive. You did that.”

He doesn’t respond right away. You can see the war behind his eyes, the stubborn pride he’s trying to hold onto, clashing with how much he wants to believe you.

“I’m really proud of you,” you whisper, and the change in him is immediate. His eyes lift to meet yours again, wider now, a new kind of emotion breaking through.

“You are?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. His pupils dilate by ten sizes at the simple fact that you’re proud. He made you proud, that’s all he’s ever wanted. “You’re proud of me? You mean that?”

“Of course I do, baby,” you reply, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks. “Everyone’s proud of you. You’re Superman. The one people count on. The one kids pretend to be when they play heroes. You’re more than just strong. You give people hope. And you’re loved for it.”

“And what about you?” he asks after a second. His hands slide up your waist, pulling you closer between his legs.

“And I also love you, Clark,” you whisper with a chuckle, leaning in until your forehead rests against his.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips. There’s no urgency behind it. No need for anything more. It’s slow, full of gratitude, and when he pulls back, your hand rises to nudge his chin playfully.

A small, tired smile appears on his face.

“I love you too.”

[maskerat]

Hornet gettings wings in Pharloom...