#but MAN. I GET EMBARRASSED WITH OLD ART…

[kathbunny]

Vampire VR-LA (living his best life in a mansion with all his supernatural friends) and artist Maxim (who's jumping from art form to art form at random and living in the woods alone often going on night strolls)!

Maxim tossed on a heavy jacket before he headed out of his cottage, a camping lantern attached his belt loops to light his way without taking up his hands. There was something nice about the woods when the moon was high, knowing he wouldn't run into anybody or be bothered.

The leaves would rustle with the wind, the stars in the sky looked like jewels without the pollution of the city, and it was quiet. Depending on the season, there were always loud frogs or crickets or cicadas, but compared to humans that was certainly quiet.

Except, after maybe ten minutes of walking, Maxim found that he wasn't alone. There was a man, paler than the moon, no flush to his cheeks, fast asleep against a tree, legs tucked under him as he sat in the grass. His hair was bleached this silver color that almost shone like metal. The man was gorgeous. Maxim pushed the thought aside. He was somebody from the nearest town, most likely. Probably some college kid who got drunk and started wandering the woods. He certainly looked young enough to be in college, maybe towards the end of it though.

Maxim sighed, putting a hand on the man's shoulder and shaking him awake. It'd be unsafe to leave him out here, especially with how thin his clothes looked. He'd freeze.

The man initially startled, his whole body tensing, but when his eyes went to Maxim, he relaxed. This was then promptly followed by embarrassment as he avoided Maxim's gaze. "...sorry, am I on your land?" He said, awkwardly.

"No, I'm just not leaving a random person out to get hypothermia." Maxim said, realizing the man certainly didn't seem drunk. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, uh," the man immediately stumbled over his words, pushing himself into standing up, "I was hiking with friends! They're probably looking with me." He laughed awkwardly, and Maxim had no reason not to believe him. "I should probably go find them."

"It's dark, you don't have a light source, and the best thing to do when lost is stay in one place." Maxim said firmly, not wanting some idiot to get injured. He sighed, realizing what his best option here probably was. "I'll stay with you until your friends come by. If they don't in an hour, I'll walk you down to the nearest parking lot. There's an old payphone there."

The man looked a little panicked, but Maxim made no assumptions, as he nodded in agreement regardless. "...okay then? Hello, I'm VR-LA." He said, a visibly stiff and practiced greeting.

"You may call me Maxim." He returned.

-

It didn't take long for Kyana to sniff out where VR-LA was, he could hear her approach before she even said anything, although he'd been having a very nice conversation with Maxim! The man was polite, looking to be a human in his 40s, and he smelled of clay and paint and wood. It was rare VR-LA enjoyed chatting with a human for so long.

"VR-LA, there you are!" Kyana called from the edge of the clearing as she rushed over to him, having probably already heard most of the conversation. "I was looking all over for you!"

"Kyana!" VR-LA returned, smiling awkwardly at her as she lept at him to give him a side hug.

"How do you two know each other? Is she one of the friends you were travelling with?" Maxim asked, tilting his head slightly, heart going a bit faster. It seems he had some sort of social anxiety, from how his heart would speed up or slow down, or how the smell of sweat from him would increase slightly when first interacting with VR-LA or Kyana.

"She's, uh, my sister!" He lied.

"Yeah! Adopted!" Kyana immediately hopped in on the lie.

Maxim nodded, seeming pleased enough with the answer. "Well, please be sure he gets home safe. He's rather pale."

Kyana was visibly trying not to snort at that being mentioned. "Yeah, of course! I'll get him home so he can get some rest!" She started tugging on his arm and VR-LA stumbled to follow.

"Bye, Maxim!"

"Bye, VR-LA. Be careful."

Once they were out of earshot, Kyana started giggling. "Why'd you say I was your sister? You could've just said friend."

"...I panicked." VR-LA muttered.

"Yeah, I'm fine with that!" She said, despite still giggling.

[rystiel]

umm……………… i can explain

[c-nstellati-ns]

whenever these two have an argument and want to figure out who wins, they fight to near death about it to see who is right despite it being an obvious answer

( conquest absolutely loves it ) ( archivist thinks it’s a waste of time ) ( the gda is Very Scared )

[itadooori]

yea i rewatched the s1 finale. did a lil doodle about it

[kumquatpoo]

I havent been drawing so heres some wilsons from the last few months or maybe weeks (i have lost all sense of time)

[n4rval]

consider: mad genius who's also a very kind and lonely old man

actually adores children and connects with them better than most people because they are both openly candid, creative and curious

struggles with the asexual conundrum of wanting a spouse and offspring but ultimately Sucking So Much Ass at building intimacy with another person he skipped that part altogether and mad scienced his way into a family

[athanatosora]

managed to log back into my acc for it and was reminded abt obitofic bc of comments. i fr cant ever post the rewrite bc 1) that thing ended up soo different bc i just straight up couldnt bring myself to reread my old writing so it just ended up being a whole new thing LMFAO 2) the characters. if i could id tell the me from a decade ago its ok to want to blow up certain characters w my mind its not “unfair” to them they are fictional characters. they are dolls to play with and beat up and chew and spit out like dog toy. 3) the tone. its uhmmm a bummer

[melvincholy]

old low resolution art of creacher guy

[red-dyed-sarumane]

on the topic of art & art style i think its also important to remember the amount of time that goes into it. very very few people are going to watch a life changing tutorial or see a reference that makes everything click and almost magically their art looks like someone elses. i have over 11 years into this hobby its building skills rather than something that just happens

the oldest i have access to rn is from 2014 the lines are totally scratchy & unconfident the coloring is too scared to make any statements & overall its the desire to mimic what i saw & liked without any real thought into what made others work something i liked

2015 sees a little improvement in line confidence & a little more thought into shading but its clear i just knew clothes were something people wear & didnt have any thoughts on how it reacts to being worn. just total guess work and it looks off because of it. and yet again the bg is taking an idea & trying to make it work without understanding it

2016 i hit my first feeling of "huh if u take the lines away my coloring is almost solid enough to hold up without it maybe i should try sometime" theres perhaps a little more understanding going on in the clothes but the lighting was clearly not thought about

2017s when things really started picking up i think it was the last year i did line art. even if i didnt quite understand it theres more thought put into the shading, what colors work with what & what kind of depth that can give instead of just making the same hue slightly darker & calling it a day

2018 took a bit of a hit bc i started doing lineless art & needed to get used to that & the type of refining & attention to shape thats required for it rather than before where the lines defined the shape so everything else was secondary. no lines really let me play with brushes & totally redefine how i did hair. likewise it forces more depth range in shading bc if u dont it really really looks flat.

2019 we're more used to the lineless style theres less practice of how to do the style itself and more refining going on. this is the exact art i spent 6 hours redrawing the shirt & getting frustrated it didnt look right i went & put on a similar shirt & sat in front of a mirror for a long long time actually paying attention to what parts of the fabric grabbed where & fell where & it finally started to actually look like something instead of just mush stuck on in a lump. far from prefect but a good start. likewise i was gradually learning to refine other shapes as well & starting to fuck around with reflective light despite totally not understanding it. to this day i still dont know how to do noses but at this point i decided a little triangle for the lightest part worked well enough to get the point across

2020 was a rough time & i lost some of the progress i made before & had to relearn different balances like face proportions & the like. shading was still a lot of hard shading, deciding a deep shadow color & using that as the main & not really having any softer gradients. theres a bit of an attempt at transitional colors though. also the year i decided to start using eye color at the ends of the eyelashes for fun. i also got into aru sekai series at the end of the year so sorry thats going to be most of my examples from here on

2021 i felt very brave this year i did multiple pieces that took the whole month to finish (condensed time without breaks is more like 24 hours per piece) i really felt like messing around with what moods lighting can give & also wanted to do real backgrounds for once & honestly i wish i would do that more still. put some real thought into putting things in the foreground to give more depth & make it seem more complete. the shape of the clothes & bed could definitely be refined more as well as i'd handle the wet part of the wall from whatever the blue liquid is differently now as it doesnt quite reads as wet so much as just shadow. likewise the liquid should have a bit of a different way of reflecting light so it looks like a liquid and not a goo. uh but i still really like this one there was a lot of thought put into it & i think it shows even if its not up to my current standard

2022. tempted to use the anni art again but i think this one shows off the skill level better. different lighting & how that interacts with different parts. keeping the shape of the skirt part in mind while its hidden under her jacket was difficult & wasnt done the best i couldve but theres definitely softer and more thoughtful blending going on in other parts of the clothes like her jacket. again using the flower petals to put something in the foreground to make it feel more full. working on making shapes more clear constantly but thats a given any year.

2023 was more continuation trying to make shapes & details as clean as possible. less messing with lighting & backgrounds than before but theres still plenty of attention to detail going on in basically every part i can manage to think of. this is still the thing that took me the longest to date 37 hours & even then i wish i had had time to put more thought into a real bg a type of destroyed city type of scene but alas i did have a deadline on this one and also i was so so tired from all of this. i do enjoy using the broken glass to show a glimpse of whats going on in the other songs i really do need to recycle that again i could outdo myself given the time & energy just u wait. but i still love this as is.

2024 rough year i moved & was struggling with so so much legal paperwork and then also other assignments most of my art was nothing more than doodles but i really ended the year off well with simaenaga rime. technically i finished it in january this year but i was over like 2/3 done with it when the year ended so im counting it. this wasnt even supposed to be some sort of statement i just saw the outfit irl & thought it would suit her so i self indulgently started drawing it & before i knew it it took 18 hours of work when i thought itd be 12 at most. so much thought into the direction of the fabric and all the little details on the outfit. and this is a simplified version of the actual design. i dont like how her nails turned out i somehow dont know how to color nails despite keeping my own long u would think itd be easy but no. adding color variation in the whites so its less flat & more interesting but still reads as white. despite a basic bg it still gives the feel i wanted so im more than happy with it

2025 i FINALLY drew my beloved Angel From Songs Ou-chan (tenshi) again & really used it to play with lighting & expressions & colors. the one part that really fell short of my vision is i wanted to have the inside of her hair look like its glowing blue & it admittedly doesnt look that off but its not what i was hoping for either. i want to keep this trend this year making interesting lighting and/or angles & try to get in some with real bgs again.

[taurusii]

Family reunion

[seafoam-taide]

man im So glad i save shit looking at old art is the best auuugh augh augh

[full-time-femboy]

This was supposed to be a quick practice thing bc I didn't think I would post it

But honestly, I'm too proud of this to not post it

Sketch below cut bc I liked that too

[akitauma]

SAME

"back on my bullshit" in reference to recurring hyperinterests dating back to middle school and beyond

[a-story-teller]

"Why aren't I getting comissions 😩" well you see. Unfortunately it is because you are not very good at art. And then you're attempting to peddle said bad art. My sincerest apologies

[littlcdarlin]

Who Will Love A Little Sparrow?

summary: Joel turns sixty.

warnings: girthy age gap (60 & mid 20s), Joel feels guilty about age gap, I cried while writing this, emotional fluff

note: it took one ask to convince me to actually write this lol hope you like it, anon! Title is from the Simon & Garfunkel song

Joel hasn't quite realized he's turning sixty – sure, he knows he looks it, feels it in his cracking joints, aching back and wheezing lungs, sees it in the stares the two of you get walking through Jackson hand in hand, but your company keeps him young. Three and a half decades between you will do that to a man.

He's never liked a big fuss on his birthday; even when he was half his age all the singing and balloons embarrassed him more than anything, so he didn't mention it was coming up during the weeks beforehand. You knew, of course, and so did Tommy, but he figured patrols would keep the two of you busy enough to prevent anything more than an extra kiss from you and a teasing comment from his brother – maybe birthday sex when you were done with your work for the day.

When he wakes up, it's his first thought, though not in excitement, but resignation. Sixty. The number feels like a chasm between the two of you. It makes him feel dirty for having touched you the night before, and he wishes humanity hadn't decided on the decimal numeral system.

You're scheduled for the morning patrol, so he doesn't expect you home before noon, which for the first time in his life feels like a relief. It gives him a couple of hours to bury the guilt about your age somewhere deep and secure, under vague childhood memories and the first thirteen decimals of Pi, where it won't come bubbling up while you're laughing your sunshine-laugh. He doesn't want to dim your spark, not when you seem to just have found it again.

He scuffles downstairs, dragging his feet as if he's turning ninety instead of sixty, just to wallow in his self-pity while nobody is around to see it. If he's lucky, he'll have two more decades, maybe even three, though that kind of hope is practically brazen.

He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen, thinking that if he makes his coffee strong enough, it might make him feel fifty again.

"Happy Birthday."

His head snaps up, and he's staring at you instead of his toes, your youthful face a little blotchy from the excitement.

"Here," you say, and thrust a cupcake in his direction. There is a single purple candle on it, and the frosting isn't draped across the dough in artful swirls the way they did it before the outbreak – still, it's the best cupcake he has ever seen.

"I couldn't fit sixty candles on this thing, so you get one."

Your smile is a little lopsided, a little too understanding, and Joel swallows.

"Thanks," he mutters quietly, staring at the blue part of the flame. "Geez."

"Blow it out," you say, "and make a wish."

He doesn't believe in that, but he obliges because you somehow found him a cupcake in the middle of the apocalypse at the crack of dawn.

"Now," you say, almost business-like, as if the first bullet point of one of your little lists has been crossed off, "I got Tommy and Maria to cover us on patrols today. What do you wanna do first, drink outrageously bitter coffee, or carve a wooden sparrow?"

He stares at you. You must have found the little bird he made during his many sleepless hours – he put it on the very top shelf in the living room where it wouldn't attract attention. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, he's just not sure it's a part of himself he wants to share with the world.

You put the cupcake on the kitchen counter and turn back around, that same knowing smile on your lips.

"I got you something," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You shouldn't trade for–"

"I didn't."

You hand him a small package, wrapped in some old newspaper you decorated with tiny, drawn-on hearts.

"Tommy said you used to wrap presents in colorful paper just to throw it away," you explain, that sense of wonder in your voice, as always when you talk about the before, "I didn't have paint, but I found a pen that works."

Joel stares at the package. He remembers the last birthday present he unwrapped perfectly, can see it catch the morning sunlight on his wrist.

"I–Geez," he just says, again, and starts to carefully peel away the newspaper without creasing your little artwork too much. His thumb traces one of the hearts. There is a hint of red inside the paper, and then he's holding something small.

"Where did you get this?", he asks, voice quiet with awe and something else that seems to thicken his throat.

"I found it in an abandoned raider's lair," you say softly, "I know I should have handed it to Maria, but I thought you could use it for your sparrow. Give him a face, you know, some feathers."

Joel traces the little cross on the Swiss army knife, and feels his chest tighten.

"Don't tell on me," you say teasingly, but with a hint of self-consciousness at his lack of a response. Joel swallows, and drags his eyes away from his present and to your face.

"Thank you," he says quietly, unsure of how to voice the thoughts rushing through his head, "I– thank you."

"Yeah," you say gently, "'course."

You accept his gratitude, understand what he means by it. You don't make a fuss with your un-swirly cupcake and single candle and no singing. All of a sudden, Joel feels his eyes prick and burn, and he rubs them quickly, wipes away the wetness. You touch his shoulder, make him look at you, and he clenches his jaw in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mutters, "you just...know me so well."

There it is, your sunshine-smile, and you press a kiss to his naked chest, as high as you can reach.

"Sixty isn't that old, Joel. Don't even think about using it as an excuse to stop chopping firewood."

He chuckles and cups your face in one of his massive palms.

"No ma'am."

[sobbingscripter]

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2216🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“Really feel the pottery in your hands. Feel the clay as you shape it.”

The sound of the teacher is drowned out, your attention on Mark and literally, only Mark.

Your nipples are pebbled, charcoal pencil between your teeth as you watch the muscles of his forearms flex with each movement of his hands. His wet, messy hands that shape clay so sensually. God, your palms are already sweaty.

You’ve long abandoned your art project, your incomplete drawing remaining just that. Incomplete.

And you feel your belly dip inward when you watch his middle and ring finger push into the centre of where the hole of whatever pot he’s making. And you nearly moan when he shifts his position, his arm reaching into the pot to shape the inside.

You feel like a pervert. A creep. A weirdo.

Like if Mark didn’t know you, he’d move to walk on the side of the street furthest from you, because your thighs are pressing together with each gentle circle he makes to the outside of the pot, middle finger pressing into the malleable clay to form patterns.

And you cover your lips with your fingers, dragging them down your chin as you try to grab a hold of yourself.

Mark glances towards you, a snort falling from his lips before he motions to your mouth, and your brows knit. Before reaching into your pencil case, pulling out a compact mirror and you grimace.

Charcoal smeared like a fucking goatee.

You rifle through your bag, pulling out a small package of tissues before you wipe at your face, checking your reflection to make sure you’re getting all of it.

“Young lady,” the teacher’s voice breaks your concentration and she looks down at you, “less vanity, more drawing.” And she plucks the compact from your hand, before continuing to walk between the aisles of students.

Looking between their different projects and you feel the back of your neck burn with embarrassment as well as annoyance.

“Dirty old bitch.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“You weren’t there to stop me from making an ass of myself, you dildo.” You hiss, watching as William continues to clean away the barely perceptible streaks of charcoal from your chin.

“I told you to take welding.” He huffs. “Only way you can make an ass of yourself there is if you lose a finger.”

You glance towards your reflection in the bathroom mirror, only satisfied once you’ve reapplied your lip liner, as well as your gloss.

And William steps out of the bathroom first, before backtracking, turns to you. And he presses his palm against your mouth, smearing your lip combo across your face.

“Oh no. Guess we’ll have to stay here for a while longer. Shucks.” William sighs, dramatic and you seethe. “You asshole. What’s so—”

You poke your head out of the bathroom, your eyes widening.

“She’s literally never even acknowledged his existence unless he’s validating one of her stupid opinions!” You hiss. “The fuck does she want with him?”

Your hisses are whispered and William shrugs, wiping at your lips before reaching into your pocket, pulling out your lip combo.

“I don’t know but it’s probably just—”

“William, she’s touching his arm. Oh, God, the world is spinning and I’m smelling pennies.” You groan, leaning back against the cool frame of the door and your hand moves to clutch at your heart over your shirt.

“Someone took my bitch, Willy.” You whimper, bringing your fist up to your mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as you bite down on your knuckles.

“I’m gonna end up on Channel 5, I just know it.”

William watches Amber and Mark, seeing the way Mark smiles. All sweet and bubbly, watching the way Amber laughs and the hand on Mark’s shoulder gives a nice, lingering squeeze.

“No, no one’s taking your bitch. I promise. Look at me.” William reassures, before his hands move to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Look. At. Me.” He takes a breath. “That is your man. You’ve listened to Seance Dog lore for fucking hours. No one deserves to ride that… Awkward, socially anxious… Permanently stressed… nerdy pony more than you.”

“You’re really bad at— oh, Willy, she’s really close. Girl, I’m gonna crash out.”

And William huffs.

“Amber doesn’t have shit on you. So what if she’s pretty, and smart and she always smells like the Bahamas. Or actually like... More specifically a daiquiri I had when I was eight and my family went there for vacation. But listen to me."

William forces you to look deep into his eyes.

"She does not have shit on you."

And you glance back at Amber and Mark, your spirit crumbling like a cookie when you see the way she pats his chest, her hand lingering and sliding just a bit to ghost over his abs as she passes him. And you nearly throw up.

"William, is this what Beyoncé felt like?"

"Yes." William answers immediately. "But this is your Lemonade moment. Babe, look at me."

And William sighs, his tone almost sympathetic as he whispers to you, "We be all night."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

"Don't be an asshole. Get me a job here." Mark whines, brows knitted into a furrowing frown as he watches you weave between customerw and aisles, continuing to restock various shelves of comic books and paraphernalia.

"No, you're like, one of the biggest customers. Every time you buy a comic book, that's a dollar added to my end of year bonus." You cross your arm over one another, ignoring Mark as he trails behind you, plopping down in the chair near the register and he continues to nurse his Slurpee.

"What are you even gonna use the money for? My mom buys your groceries." Mark huffs and you whistle.

"Wow. First of all. The money my parents send me goes into my college fund, and secondly, your mom forcefully buys my shit. And thirdly, I pay her back." You defend.

"How?"

"I do her hair, I mow your lawn, I wash her car in jean shorts and a backwards baseball cap, not to mention, when she works from home, I'm her assistant."

And Mark scoffs. "You just bring her snacks and take her calls."

"Because her own son doesn't even wanna feed his loving mother."

Mark can barely muster a response, his jaw going slack at your retort and it takes him a few moments to recuperate. "How dare y—"

"I dare easily."

Mark rolls his eyes, pink lips wrapping around his straw once again as he watches you interact with customers. You've got the sweetest smile, pointing out which comic franchise each aisle is dedicated to. And his eyes fall to where your palms are braced on the glass counter, limited edition comics displayed underneath and he watches the way your manicured nails tap at the glass absentmindedly.

You've got pretty hands.

Nice fingers, well kept and the softest palms, and you always know how to accessorize without looking tacky.

And he clears his throat.

"You got that limited edition Seance Dog yet?"

"Yeah, but can you afford it?"

And Mark scoffs. "How much?"

"110." You raise a brow in amusement when you watch Mark swallow heavy, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before he purses his lips. "And you can't hold it for me?" And you shake your head, lips tugged downwards into a mock sympathy expression.

"You know, I can buy it for you. But then I need a favour." You lean forward, elbows braced on the counter and Mark's pretty sure his ears stop working because all he can focus on, is how that pretty pendant dangles from your neck, right above your cleavage. You're giving him the minimal view down your shirt, and he's acting like a damn dog.

"Uh huh?" He squeaks out.

"Everytime I change my sheets, I want you to put the fitted sheet on my mattress." You cross your arms over your chest. "No matter where you are, what you're doing, who you're with."

"Deal!"

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆

"You spent... A hundred and ten dollars... On a picture book?" Debbie deadpans, eyes narrowing at you from behind cucumber slices, her hand in yours as you continue to file at her nails. She rests back in the recliner, her legs stretched out, foam separaters between her toes as she allows herself to be pampered.

"It's a Seance Dog comic." You hum. "It's got like... Extra panels as to how he became like... Seance Dog. I don't know why, but Mark seems to like it."

And she lets out a breath.

"What even—" "He's an anthropomorphic dog. And he's kinda based on Doctor Strange. Like, costume wise."

"Who?"

"It's a Marvel character. He's like, a wizard."

"Then why's he called 'doctor'?"

"Because he's a doctor."

"Then why is he still a wizard?"

"Because he's a surgeon and a wizard."

"Do his parents know he's running around in a cape?"

"I think his parents are dead, Miss Debbie."

And she winces. "Died of shame?"

"No..." You snort. "They don't really... Go into much detail about that. Or they do, I don't know. I'm not very into Marvel."

And Debbie lets out a quiet sigh, toes flexing and she lifts one of the slices from her eyes, glancing towards where you're busy with her nails.

"Could we try an almond shape? A little bit longer." You note the way it's hard for her to meet your gaze and you gasp.

"Miss Deborah, you dirty dog." You snicker. "Gel build?"

And she nods her head. "The nude pink."

"Can I expect Mark sleep—"

"Without a doubt."

"God—" Mark pants. "Are you just randomly helping people put up water towers?"

"No." Nolan hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Mark steady the metallic storage item. "However, these people needed help and you were in the area."

"You were too."

"Who's the hero and who's the rookie?"

And Mark huffs, arms crossed over his chest before his phone buzzes in his suit and Mark fishes the device out of his pocket.

Number 1⭐: 'your mom's gonna get her 🐱 ate'.

He stares at the text, his expression faltering before he stares at Nolan, his lips pressing into a thin line that slowly morphs into a grimace. The longer he stares at his father, the more his expression crumples.

And the more his expression crumples, the wider Nolan grins, already having a mild idea of what the text read.

"You know, you ought to marry a girl like that." Nolan hums. "Smart, funny, likeable."

"She's a massive dick." Mark huffs, sliding his phone back into his pocket before he crosses his arms over his chest. Lips tugged into a disgruntled frown.

"That falls under 'funny', son." Nolan states.

"Well, that's too bad. I've already got a girl I like. Her name's Amber and—"

"Can Amber fight, Mark?"

The question is abrupt and Mark's brows knit in confusion.

"Huh? I— I don't— I'm not sure."

"Cause Amber's gonna need to." Nolan states. "At some point... in the near future."

"Why would Amber need to know how to fight?"

"Because, Mark, one day, she'll need to." And he coughs. "One day soon."

"Soon?!"

"Well... Soon by Viltrumite standards."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

Mark spends yet another night in your company, his shoulder against yours as you both stare up at your ceiling. Phones on charge, the lights shut off and the only other light being the slivers of moonlight that creep through your curtains.

"You know, you never told me your hero name." You state softly, your voice just as quiet as the raindrops that patter down onto the grass outside, pelting against your window and Mark hums quietly.

His hair's damp from his shower, his broad shoulders stretching yet another of your shirts although this time, it's an 'I Heart GILFS' T-shirt.

"Invincible."

There's a quiet silence between you and Mark glances towards you, only to see you already looking at him. Your expression is blank, unreadable and he can't fight the laughter that bubbles from his lips when you turn your back to him.

Pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Oh come on, it's not bad!" Mark giggles, a muscular arm wrapping around your waist and he pulls you towards him.

And the room gets quiet for a wholenew reason.

The warmth of his body is intense, the way his breath fans across your neck and the way his fingertips press into the softness of your belly.

And he dips his head, lips ghosting over your jaw as he cranes to meet your gaze.

He's grinning, dimples in his cheeks and shadows playing on his features.

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous of what, Vincible?"

"Jealous of my aweso— man, fuck you."

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

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