#normal art will resume…tomorrow??

[werewolfaday]

day 308* + bonus, OP as an actual werewolf for a day and the very lovely @guillotinegf (not a werewolf, a cat, but still the best part of the post) under the readmore!

awoooooo and meow 💙🩷

[kirric-the-fan]

Cure...Pumpkin?!?!?!

(Happy Halloween!)

[babygorewhore]

Tied up. Stan bowes Smut.

You’re tired of working your useless job. Until one night you see an advertisement listing. You accept. What happens next?

WARNINGS! Bdsm themes. Daddy kink. Fingering. Oral! Fem recieving. Ropes. Age gap! Pnv!

You took another swig of the drink in front of you. You had worked late again. Your clothes were wrinkled, you needed to shower but you had to stop at the bar first.

“Another round?” The bartender asked, raising his brow when he saw the empty glass. You opened your mouth to say no, considering you had to work again tomorrow, but you decided to say fuck it.

You nodded and he proceeded to pour the liquor into the glass, sliding it over to you.

The television played the news, showing the same tragic events that happened yesterday. You hated watching it. All the negativity. All the people turning against one another. It made you sick.

You were a housekeeper. At a hospital of all places. You’d been there for two years. Your back permanently tilted from lugging around buckets and a trash can all day. Your scrubs were stained from bleach, your hair thrown up in a bun and you hadn’t worn real clothes in a week. You were only 21 years old, living in a shitty apartment downtown.

If you quit your job, you’d have to move back in with your parents and that’s not what you wanted. You wanted independence and freedom yes but you also wanted security and the ability to enjoy things around you. Everything was so fucking depressing.

You hadn’t been on a date, other than driving through a parking lot with some football player who tried to shove his hand up your skirt an hour later and you slapped him across the face. Your life wasn’t interesting. But you craved intimacy. Something. Something to make your life more enjoyable.

As you rode in the Uber, scrolling your phone you saw a ad on a job search that you forgot to unsubscribe too. “Wanted housekeeper.” It said. The pricing was more than you made and one day less than you worked.

Biting your lip as you walked inside your apartment, you looked around the room. You kept it tidy, given your job but you groaned when you saw it was after midnight. You’d have to be up soon. You glanced back at the add. Cleaning a house? Verses a hospital. Again, you decided to say fuck it. You clicked on the application and added your resume, contact information and photo. Throwing off your shoes, snapping off your bra, you climbed into bed and turned on your comfort show you’ve watched for the 100th time.

Your eyes drifted shut before you felt your phone buzz.

Groaning, you rolled over and selected your phone. It was an email. The message from from a name, Stan Bowes. And you skimmed the text before opening it. “When can you start?” It read. You sat up, surprised at the fast response. Normally that would be a red flag but you were desperate.

You typed. “Two days.”

Waiting, you shimmied out of your scrubs and laid back down. Your phone lit up and you checked it. “Done. Here’s the address.” You breathed harder. That’s it? You had a new job. Sighing, you curled into a ball and fell asleep.

You arrived at the house two days later, wearing your stained scrubs. It was big, bigger than the house you grew up in and you realized something as you reached underneath the welcome Matt for the key. As you opened the door, the entrance welcomed you. This guy was rich, you thought while closing the door behind you.

Modern furniture, art and shiny hardwood floor adorned the living room. Your feet padded the space and you frowned. It was pristine. You went into the large kitchen, an island was wiped off. The dishes put away, and it even smelled clean.

Was this the right address? You checked again on your phone. It was the right address.

You climbed up the stairs, opened up the first door on the right. Finally, you saw the mess. Clothes thrown everywhere. The bed unmade. Trash bags everywhere. You nodded to yourself and set down your cleaning supplies. This would take you a few hours, with that including vacuuming, dusting and cleaning the window. You knew how to extend your time, making the pay fair.

The hours went by, you finished the bedroom and made your way to the downstairs. You felt unsure of what to do, you could vacuum and mop the already clean floor. Deciding to do that, you started humming to yourself as you twirled the cord. This was significantly more peaceful than scrubbing blood off hospital floors but you worried. Was this is? Cleaning a bedroom and tidying an already clean rest of the house?

The door opened and you turned, wiping your hands on your pant leg. A man entered, holding a briefcase and he was wearing a suit. He was handsome, brown hair, brown eyes with a strong nose. He was taller than you, lean muscle. 30s, you guessed. Younger than you imagine for having a house this big.

“Oh, hello, Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded, and extended your hand for a shake.

He gripped your palm, shaking it gently. “Stan. Stan Bowes.” You smiled in greeting, feeling nervous by his attractive face.

“You’ve done a wonderful job.” He noted, glancing around the room.

“Well-honestly it was already clean when I arrived, Mr. Bowes. I’m a little worried to be honest. There wasn’t much for me to actually clean.” You confessed.

“I know. I wanted to be private about this job, because I couldn’t advertise my real intention.” He said, sinking onto the couch.

Your head tilted. “True intention?”

“I…advertise cleaning to keep things subtle. But really, my real hope is to have someone’s company.” You almost groaned when you realized exactly what he meant.

“So, you’re a sugar daddy? Is that what you’re saying?” You asked, withholding a cackle. You couldn’t believe you fell for something too good to be true. Granted you were a little tipsy, tired and you were about to fall asleep.

“I-I don’t care for that but…I-“

You held up your hand. “Let me guess. Cheating on your wife?”

He stilled, his shoulders dropping. You knew you hit a nerve. “My wife. We’re not together anymore. But she has my children most of the time. And I-I’m desperate. I’m desperate to have someone near me. My wife was more like a roommate. And after a while, I wanted to leave but she didn’t want that. I filed for divorce, she fought me the whole time and finally I’m here.”

You sigh, believing him. But what were you supposed to do with this information? You couldn’t just sleep with him for money. Well, you honestly could, he was hot as fuck but…would to be worth it? You needed the money. Badly. You hated your job. You hated your life.

“What would I have to do? Sleep with you?” You asked.

Stan shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Just…keep me company. Talk to me. Spend time with me. And I’ll take care of you in return.”

You went home after that statement, you got out of the shower and put on your robe. You hadn’t made a decision yet. Promising to text him after you did. Walking to your small bedroom, you sat on the bed and sighed.

Just spending time with him? Talking to him? That’s it. That’s all he wanted. A paid girlfriend basically. You would be responding to a 30 plus year old divorced single dad. It was every teenage fantasy you had but this was real life. How would you explain this to anyone? “Yeah, mom. My boyfriend. He um pays me.” You laid on your pillow.

You debated this. This wouldn’t last forever, who knows how long. It wasn’t guaranteed. But you couldn’t help the urge to try it. He seemed like a nice guy. Lonely, but nice. He saw you in dirty scrubs and still asked you to be a his sugar baby.

Picking up your phone, stopping yourself from thinking about it too long, you brought up his contact information on your phone.

“I’ll do it.” You typed. You pressed send.

“Meet me at my house tomorrow. 8 o clock. Wear whatever you want.”

You bit your lip, your heart quickening in pace. You didn’t have much to work with but you did have an idea.

The next day came, you rushed home from work, jumped into the bath and scrubbed yourself clean. You wore your hair down, threw on some eyeliner, lip gloss. You wore all black as you rode in the Uber on your way there, you dressed the same as you did in high school.

You arrived at his house, 2 minutes to spare and you jumped out. Walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

He answered, wearing a white suit shirt, black trousers and his tie was loose. You felt underdressed. “I hope what I’m wearing is okay?” Stan guided you inside with his hand on your back.

“Of course. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, I mean.” He chuckles awkwardly and you both go into the living room. Sitting down, you press your knees together and wait for him to tell what was going to happen next.

“How was your day?” He asked you, settling next to you.

“Oh, it was-okay. Boring honestly. My life is boring.” You shrugged.

“Boring? You’re so young and you think your life is boring already?” Stan questioned. “Tell me more.”

“Tell you about me?” You parroted and he licks his lips. Nodding.

“I was a good kid. Always stuck to the rules. Pretty good parents. But I had a rough time in high school.”

“Why do you say that?” Stan asked and you could see his sincerity through his brown eyes.

“Oh you know, I was bullied. Asked out as a joke. Just typical high school shit.” You laughed.

“Someone asked you out as a joke?” Stan asked, disgust evident in his tone.

“Oh, more than once actually. The first three times, I actually fell for it.” You leaned back on the couch. Stan leaned forward, resting his hand on your knee. He gave it a soft squeeze before he pulled away. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserve better.”

“What’s your story? I mean. I know you’re lonely. Divorced. With a couple of kids. But what else? What makes you Stan?” You inquired.

“I’m as uninteresting as they get. I’m afraid. My life is meaningless. I go to work. Come home and go to sleep. Start it all over again.” He rubbed his hand over his face.

Now, you were curious. He was sitting with his legs spread. He had muscular legs, you had to admit. He was desperate. Paying a stranger to spend an evening with him, just talking. “Who do you work for?” You quipped.

Stan quirked his eyebrow. “Donald Trump.”

“Oh shut up,” You laughed. “No you don’t.” Stan’s eyes slid over to you before he reached inside his pocket. He pulled out his badge. It was an identification from the building downtown. One that Donald, orange trump owned.

“No way. So, that’s your secret huh? You work for him, you make a bunch of money and you’re a sugar daddy? I don’t think that’s meaningless.” You giggled and he rolled his eyes before smiling to himself.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to my ex wife.”

“When was the last time you went out, Stan? Got out of your house that obviously doesn’t need cleaning?” You flashed your eyebrows at him, the words flowing off your tongue like honey. His veiny hands extended down his legs as he leaned on his knees.

“It’s been two years since I’ve partied. What about you? A shy, young girl, living in a studio apartment. Working as a housemaid. Surely, you like to go out?”

You hummed and pulled your legs up to your chest. “Last time I went out, it was to a rock concert. A tour of three bands. I stayed out until 3am. I had just turned 20. It was the best night of my life.”

“A rock concert huh? For some reason, I took you as a Ed Sheeran fan. Or Taylor swift?” You smirked.

“I like other things too. And I’m not just some young girl. I have dreams, goals, you know.” The more you spoke, the easier it was.

“I’d love to hear them.”

“I want to get my psychology degree. I want to help people. Make a difference actually. Instead of what I’m doing. I’ve always to reach someone. Pull them from the darkness.” You spoke with your eyes focused on his white ceiling. You felt him shift.

“I want you to do that too. I can tell you would be good at helping people.” You turned your head to look at him. He had moved closer.

“Why?”

“Because you’re helping me. Right now.” He whispered. And glanced at your lips. Your heart thudded louder against your chest. You knew what he was thinking. But would you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?”

The request hung in the air like a ringing bell and everything went silent. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, to your eyes. Then down again. What would happen if you said yes? Would that be it? You wouldn’t know unless you gave in…

You nodded.

Stan leaned in slowly, his hands still on his laps as he breathed in your scent. His lips encompassed your lower one, softly sucking on the flesh. Your hand went to rest on his chest, gently gripping the fabric as he deepened the kiss. Turning his head to the side, he brushed his tongue against your lip, asking for entrance and you granted it.

He groaned into your mouth, his hand reaching to cup your jaw. His mouth was warm, his hand calloused as he ran his thumb across your cheek.

Stan leaned his weight down, pinning your back against the couch as he kissed you, hungrily and desperately as his hand moved from you face, to your neck, squeezing softly.

You pulled back at the contact, breathing heavily and glanced at his hand encircling your neck. Stan leaned back, almost ashamed of his actions. “I’m sorry. I know…it’s not part of the deal. I just couldn’t seem to help myself-“

“It’s okay. I liked it.” You whispered, caressing your neck.

He looked at you again, eyes darting to your own hand. “I haven’t-kissed a woman in a while. I know this situation is extremely complicated. You don’t owe me anything. And if you want to leave, you can. I’ll still pay you for everything. But-“

“Stan, it’s okay. It’s just a kiss.” You reassured him before biting your lip. Kissing him, your core tightened at his heavy breathing. Soft romantic eyes…

You went to your hands, crawling over to him and you straddled his lap. Either legs on the side of his pelvis and his eyes widened. Your hands settled on his shoulders, before trailing to his hair. It was soft underneath your fingertips. Could you do it? Your hips rolled against his, you felt him harden beneath you and you smiled at him. You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from, but you didn’t want it to end. “Mmmm,” You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his neck. “You seem so nervous, Stan? What’s wrong? You’re not used to being wanted?” Your mouth settled on his sweetspot by his collarbone and he shivered at your tongue brushing against it.

“I-I don’t know. You’re so young. So inexperienced.” You gently bit down, and he moaned, his hand moving to your lower back. His other went to your breast.

“Stan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut the fuck up. And do as your told.” Your hand went to his neck, squeezing the sides and your other hand went to his crotch. You started massaging his cock outside his pants, giving the erection a slight squeeze. Stans head lulled to the side but you straightened it, gripping his jaw.

“Stay still.” You whispered in his ear.

You went to lower yourself down, before his hand went to your hair. He maneuvered you over his lap, his arm pinning you down over his knee and you gasped in shock.

“I think you have me mistaken for some little boy who likes to be dominated. But I think you’re mistaken, baby.” His voice was soft and commanding.

But his hold on your hair tightened, pulling your head back, your breasts arched above his knee and his other hand settled on your ass.

“You know, I want you to count. Count to 10. And if you don’t, I’ll stop touching you. And I don’t think you don’t want that.” Your breath shuddered as his hand came down. Hard.

“Ah! Fuck!” You cried out at the stinging. But you obeyed him, any urge to take control was futile. “One.” You winced as he continued spanking, but you counted to ten.

“Good girl.” He leaned to whisper that in your ear before releasing you. You went to the ground on your hands and knees, shocked at the sudden turn of events. Your head whipped to him as he stood up.

“You have two options, Y/n.” He started, resting his hands on his hips. “You can walk away right now, like I said. Or,” He trailed towards you, leaning down to brush his thumb across your lips. “you’ll do whatever I want.”

You were speechless as his eyes narrowed hungrily. “You seem nervous, Y/n. What’s wrong? You’re not used to someone wanting you?” He repeated your words and you inhaled sharply.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” You whispered, looking up at him with your mouth watering. Stan nodded. A new, dangerous confidence building inside him.

He aimed his head towards the stairs. “Go upstairs. On your hands and knees.” He ordered softly.

It took more time, going up the steps on your hands and knees but you made it to the hallway with Stan behind you. He remained silent. “We’re not going to my bedroom. We’re going to the spare room.” You turned and saw him holding a key.

He walked ahead of you, his posture stiff as he turned the key to a door at the end of the hall. “One last chance to back out.”

You shook your head. “I want to see.” You insisted. He sighed and opened the door.

“Oh my god.” You whispered.

It was red. A red room. Dozens of tools hung from the walls, fake candles flickered around and in the center was a large bed that had black bedding but underneath were crimson LED lights. A black chandelier hung on the ceiling, but what caught your attention were whips, riding crops and robes that adorned the wall.

“This is…my secret. This is why most people run from me.” Stan sighed and clicked his tongue.

“Your secret? That you’re super kinky and you have some sort of sex dungeon?” You realized the hypocrisy of your statement, given you were on all fours but you couldn’t help it.

Stan chuckled and put the key in his pocket. “I’m waiting.” He said to you and you entered the room, crawling forward.

“Stop.” You did and you sat on your heels and Stan approached you. Holding rope. Surprisingly, despite the situation, he still seemed somewhat unconfident.

“Stan,” You began as he secured the rope around your wrists. “I want to do this.” He paused and looked down at you. “I want you to use me. Anyway you want.” You pleaded.

Stan grounded his teeth before he yanked you from the floor, crashing his lips to yours in a fevered kiss of tongue and teeth. Blood quirked from your bottom lip as he tugged it with his teeth, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed your hands above your head, holding you in place. Your center pooled as he ripped himself away.

“I want you to spread your legs.” Stan growled. His hand flexing.

You separated your knees, your underwear sticking to your pussy as he licked his lips. Stans fingers circled around your pants, pulling them down slowly and your underwear. Your pussy glistens and he flicked his pointer finger, inside the wet walls before trailing your clit.

You trembled as he inserted it into his mouth, his eyes drifted shut and he hummed to himself. “You taste so sweet.” He groaned before leaning down.

He trailed kisses along your inner thighs, close but not close enough. His tongue moved along your pussy but pulled away last second.

“Fuck, Stan. Please don’t tease me.” He launched himself up, his fingers plunging inside you. You threw your head back, as he went knuckle deep and sank into you.

“You don’t order me around. Do you understand?” He pumped his fingers inside you, and your back arched as he went deeper, impossibly deeper.

“Yes-yes I understand.” You squeaked.

“Yes what?” His thumb grazed your clit before pulling away.

“I-I don’t know.” You whimpered. Stan removed his fingers and shoved them into your mouth.

You tasted yourself on his digits and you tried to fight against the ropes but they were tight. “What did you call me that first night? I want you to say it.”

You realized what he meant.

“Daddy?” You questioned. He nodded.

“Now, ask me. What do you want from me? You can ask me. Nice and proper.”

“Daddy…please. Taste me. I need it. Please?” You begged.

Your begging killed him and he forced your legs apart. “Moan nice and loud for me okay?” Stan whispered as he laid on his stomach, lifting your thighs over his shoulders.

He laid his tongue flat against your pussy, kitten licking your clit repeatedly, before diving down to your entrance, then bringing it back to the top. You moaned, loudly in your chest and throat before you turned your head to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as Stan increased the pressure on your clit.

You shuddered as his fingers swiped against your entrance before he slid two fingers inside, pumping slowly as he slowed his pace on your sensitive bud, torturing you as you neared your climax, before he would change paces again.

“Daddy-please don’t tease me-“ You inhaled and Stan chuckled against you.

“I don’t think you should tell me what to do right now, baby. Do you? Not when I have you splayed out like this.” He licked a long, stripe against you before he pulled away. Keeping his fingers deep inside you.

Sweat gathered on your forehead as your back arched into his hand. His free one settled underneath your midsection as he hovered over you.

“You’re being so good, taking my fingers like this baby. You’re being such a good girl, right now.” His mouth went to your neck, he peppered kisses along your skin. “Such a pretty little slut. Doing whatever I want.” You were about to burst.

“Let go for me, it’s okay. And then I’m gonna fuck you like an animal.” Stan reached over to the drawer, selecting a plastic wrapped condom. Sliding off his pants and boxers, he wrapped his dick inside the protection. His hand locked on your shoulder as he turned you over on your stomach, forcing your tied hands on the bed with your ass up.

His hand pushed down on your head, “Spread your legs. Nice and wide for me, okay?” He ordered softly and you listened, breathing heavily as he pressed himself inside you.

You buried your head down, exhaling long and hard as he thrusted inside you, shifting to hold your hips in place as he moved deep and hard into you. “Fuck.” He moaned as your walls clenched around him, welcoming him in the deepest parts of you.

You stayed like that for several seconds, him moving roughly against you with his hard cock pounding you, animalisticly like he promised. He gripped you in place as you tried to move your hips to create friction. He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “I’m gonna play with your pussy now, okay? Can you hold out a little longer for me? You’re doing a good job, princess.” He groaned.

You couldn’t hardly see straight as his fingers circled around your clit as he continued thrusting, you weren’t going to last much longer. This was better than anything you had, better than your own pathetic fingers.

“I’m gonna-daddy I’m gonna come-“ You managed before your release came over you with a powerful rush. You stilled and then felt Stan stop moving as he came, releasing into the confines of the condom.

He pulled out of you, releasing your fullness and he collapsed next you. You turned over on your back, panting heavily as he started untying your hands. As they were free, you stretched out your arms over your head as he laid next to you.

You both stayed silent, breathless and then you moved over, leaning your cheek onto his chest. He glanced down at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Was that submissive enough for you?” Stan asked and you chuckled with a blush.

Soon after, you ended up falling asleep.

The next morning, you woke up late, still naked on the bed. When you sat up, you noticed a note next to you.

“Had to leave. Hopefully…I see you soon on your next work night. Maybe we can make this a regular occurrence…S.B”

You bit your lip. It was the most passionate night you’d ever had. But he had to leave. Without establishing the next step.

As you left the house, you turned one last time before making your mind up. Next time? He would be the one tied up and helpless.

Taglist. @spill-the-t @icannot3 @howtobesasha @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @demxnicprxncess @evanptrss @randodummy tagging @frankenkyle19 and @scene-and-dandylover because they requested it tonight

[gotta-pet-em-all]

Mm. I guess… I didn’t get a lot of pictures to enter with, in the end. But I think I learned something? Photography is like fanfic of the world. It’s transformative, and maybe sometimes it’s staged and posed. But sometimes art is contrived, isn’t it? Sometimes you just say “well what if there was only one bed” because that’s how the story works.

Idk. I probably won’t pursue it seriously, but it was nice to learn. Even if…. Well, i’m constantly fighting the urge to be a pretentious gatekeepy bitch because the spectres of “the real ones who are suffering because of stolen resources” still haunt me

Judging is closed, and it looks like we’ll be resuming the normal battling schedule next week. We should be getting the results in tomorrow!

[flumbobean]

Day 7 of Flumbo Arts Week! That's all folks! Normal Flumbo programming will resume tomorrow 🌞

American Gothic by Grant Wood

Flumbo Gothic 👽🫛

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Two things will be happening this week:

1. It is Atsushi Sakurai's one month since his passing tomorrow and this blog may or may not also get bombarded with posts.

2. I'm resuming my dive into Rise of Phoenixes as I keep trying to find decent novel translations, plus possibly yet another show rewatch, so there's that.

I am incredibly upset that flights back to Japan are double the price they should be at the moment so I will not be able to go to Atsushi's memorial nor to what is very likely to be Buck-Tick's last concert after 36 years now that we've lost him, so just a warning to you fine folks who also follow me on my main (which has been receiving the brunt of my sobbing) I will probably not be normal about any of this until the new year when all is said and done and the situation is beyond doing anything about.

Anyway, thanks to all of you for tolerating my swings in this or that direction around here. I try to keep it vaguely interesting in the face of no new ST content, even though the death of yet another legend is not what I bargained for- especially at just 57 years old. I just.....how???? I can't go down this rabbithole again. He basically died on stage mid song, an artist can ask for no better way to call it after 36+ years of art. Just hug your loved ones, ok? Go to that concert you keep saying is too expensive. Do that thing you've been putting off. Just go and do the things and see the people you want and for fuck's sake enjoy them!!

[autodiscothings]

It’s been a strange, novel week for me. On Monday, I moved into a new studio to work on my art, a shared space full of new people and things. I found the place via attending regular kroki/life drawing sessions every week in the city, also a new thing I picked up. 2023 I will not be a little hermit crab, and try to be social.

I was, to be honest, incredibly self-conscious about being there, and my usual awkward self. I drew birds a lot to cope, until I felt more at ease. (Birds are very forgiving little things.) 

I assumed it was meant for Very Serious Artists who didn’t have a lot of drawings of beloved blorbos hidden in their portfolio. I also felt a bit of a fraud, like I didn’t deserve to be there. I then met the resident artists, and found I wasn't surrounded by people who would judge me, but fellow nerds with video game tattoos, and ones who liked and encouraged my art. I've been pegged for the neuro-divergent nerd I am, and I’m now comfy enough to draw what the hell I like in the space I pay for.

For my patrons, a thousand thanks for your patience. You've been very kind for what is essentially a week of me nervously drawing birds and naked people instead of working on your commissions. I feel much more comfy in my skin in the studio, and normal service will resume tomorrow.

I am very glad I did this and tried the new thing, as I feel I'm on the cusp of something being there. Thank you again for everyone who has supported my art ether by commissioning me, encouragement, even reblogs. It’s actually helped get me to a place I never thought I’d go to. 

[timepiececats]

Wow, this week blew by faster than I expected! Things are progressing smoothly in the ol' creator's dungeon. Timepiece Episode 4 is on schedule for March 24th, and I'm developing a better rhythm when it comes to creating comic pages.

I'm hopeful that I'll be able to make more pages when college resumes, now that I understand my routine better. (Gotta stay clear of the mind-numbing corners of the youtubes)

Still trying to get things rolling with normal art stuff. I would love to make more artist and writer friends, but currently I'm either locked away in the previously mention dungeon, or neck deep in college papers and still life drawings. It's frustratingly hard to meet people these days, and without an all consuming pop culture interest to latch onto, I'm not likely to find many friends out on the internet either.

It doesn't help that I'm deathly afraid of being judged or misperceived by those around me, whether because of my art and interests or my generally cautious disposition. Luckily my friends are still chill! (Love you guys) I just hold out hope that I have the opportunity to discover some colleagues with similar interests and values.

That's all for this week! Lots of work, some time to relax, and now back into the maelstrom of college tomorrow!

--Isaac @Caasib

[kneecares]

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[werewolfaday]

day 167

[snowmanmaniacc]

05/31/23

from the beginning...

i don’t have a teaching degree and yet here i am going into my third year of teaching art to elementary students. i graduated out of college with a degree in graphic design and an art minor amid the covid-19 aftermath, and had no career options planned. no one was hiring and i was writing cover letters and sending resumes every day, until i saw a posting for an itinerant art teacher.

if you are my age... you probably have no idea what an itinerant teacher is. basically, it is when you teach at a bunch of different schools to compensate for large grade levels that can’t see their normal specials teachers once a week.

anyways, i went for the job and three years later i am leaving my itinerant position to become a full time art teacher. i can’t say anyone (let alone myself) saw me becoming an art teacher. i love art, but i saw myself in some urban office setting with people my age, working over a computer screen and making deadlines for different company’s graphic design needs. think of 2012 buzzfeed, that was the dream.

now, i actually can’t imagine working with just adults. kids say the craziest shit and do it with a straight face... they sneeze on you, they tell you their honest opinion on everything (your appearance is not spared), and they can look you in the eye while picking your nose. but, they also give me purpose, and tell you that you are the best artist they have ever seen, giving me the confidence and drive to create the best lesson plans for them. i do it for them.

so, if you are a teacher, or you want lesson ideas for your elementary school pals then keep reading. tomorrow we go to our last day of the program that gives me my teaching degree for free !

-snowmanmaniac

[spacerockband]

here’s something fun, the inktober i started today (and that goes with the theme i am following) did not get finished. why, you may ask? consider: i got sidetracked. To put it simply, I have recently dyed my hair silver, and my purple shampoo, was not.. purple.. Toner.. shampoo.. this has been an update on my life

[jifanjiang0710]

Broken - Yandere Scaramouche x Reader

Written by: Eve

You like to think of people as layers. Different personas, alter egos, public facades, they stack up to form a person, stranded in their own cobweb of lies. People will deny, cheat, bargain, sin. No one is to hold any accountability, really - it is just how human nature works.

Peeling back those layers, meticulously and with intrigue, is a particular penchant of yours. In your mind, you will always think: What are they hiding? What do they really want?

Had you learnt the art of understanding people earlier on, you would not be in this situation.

Scaramouche is a tight fisted hand at the throat, unyielding and deprecating. One wrong move, and you risk getting your windpipe crushed; but if you are conciliatory enough in your approach, patient enough to bear with his abrasive personality, he just might spare you.

He is unreasonable, morally reprehensible, and will not hesitate to resort to heinous methods to get what he wants. He is someone that you would normally hate.

Even so, you have come to know him, to even get close to him, because you had been so stupid and vulnerable - curious, even.

At the very least, you are probably the person who understands him the most. Scaramouche is not evil all of the time; believe it or not, he has his own fair share of benevolent acts (albeit they do not occur often, and for the rest of the time he's quite the jerk). Wrapping a scarf around you during the biting cold days in the winter, dressing the wounds you had received during your endeavours. He can be kind for a brief, fleeting moment; the next minute, he becomes stone cold, impervious to emotions. Tomorrow, he will hiss at you, calling you a sanctimonious bitch when you tell him not to slap you again. The day after, he resumes his benign self, guiltily offering to put on your coat.

The way he switches character so subliminally, it leaves you confused and scared.

All you know this: the more you try to learn about him, the less you will understand. You could be wielding a scalpel and dissecting his brain to bits, and you will still come to comprehend none of his thoughts.

You know that he has killed many. And yet, you are a person who believes in second chances, and that he is deserving of redemption. Although he is extremely reticent of his past, you are aware that his creator had disposed of him, merely perceiving him as a failed experiment and not as a sentient being. What he is today is not his fault, and you must be forgiving. Which is why, even as the years pass, you remain with him. At least, that is what you like to tell yourself.

In reality, you are terrified of him. He is a true sadist, getting a laugh after nearly making you cry, and his petulant sulking can escalate to a violent rage so fast that it's scary. But it is far, far too late for escape, and he will be unrelenting in making sure you stay by his side for eternity. Failing to understand him, to treat him exactly like how he wants you to, is the quickest path to death. Because if he can't have you, no one will.

Regardless, you like to imagine that when you have finally peeled off all his layers, you will find not a malicious core, but an empty husk of nothingness.

_______________________________________________

Scaramouche has an affinity to the innocent. They are the easiest to manipulate and toy with, both which he takes pleasure in. All of the people he has encountered so far have been so naive - ridiculously so, that it is starting to bore him.

But you are different. You do not treat him with the usual expressions of fright, nor do you start off with some highfalutin inquiry about his wellbeing (the latter had been done by Yae Miko and it had really annoyed him. He had treated it as the conversational phlegm that it is - spat onto his hands, leaving him unsure of what to make of it). Rather, when you had first met him, you did not draw your blade or run. You had done nothing.

He is glad to have met you. Your very existence arouses sparks of interest in him, as degrading thoughts plague his mind; he wonders, when you are prostrated in front of him and begging for his forgiveness, what kind of expression will be on your face?

But as time goes by, he finds himself wanting... comfort. He knows that he is not a person that is pleasant to be with, but you have shown nothing but kindness for him. You like him, he thinks, and you are waiting for him to return the favour. Though he tries to hide it, he enjoys your company a lot more than he'd like to admit.

But Scaramouche isn't one to play easy, because Archons forbid he succumbs to something as trivial as feelings.

He is a mere puppet, after all; had he ever felt genuine love, he would do well to stay away from you.

_______________________________________________

A sheet of grey blankets the sky. Usually, the weather does well to match your mood; you feel hopeful, and the sky would be a resplendent shade of blue. As of now, you feel like an utter wasteland inside.

The traveller's grave is right in front of you. Lumine was never particularly close with you - in fact, you've only met her once, during the Windblume festival - but she had always struck you as a kind and strong soul, having fought literal Gods with resilience. So it has come as a surprise to you, really, as to how quickly Scaramouche's hands had found her neck.

"She tried to take you away from me," he says. Inside, you are angered by the indifference in his tone - he was mocking her death. "Said I was abusing you." He turns to you, and the smile on his face makes your skin crawl. "But I'm sure this is enough to convince you that she won't impede our relationship anymore."

"You're disgusting," is all you can manage. You are disgusted at yourself as well, because you do not mourn Lumine's death for long. Now, you are more worried at the thought of people convicting him. Regardless of how badly he has treated you and everyone else, you still don't want that happening.

You are disgusted at yourself because you can't imagine life without him.

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your stiffened body. "You don't see how this is alright," he mumbles into your ear. "You don't see how it could ever be." His arms tighten around you. "But I promise you, nothing will ever come between us."

The metallic smell of blood wafts around him, coiling into your nose and throat. It chokes you.

He has always had the scent of blood on him. It serves as a crude reminder to you: that you are a sinner for loving him. His warmth envelopes you, and he hugs you so tightly that the world around you drowns away, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of his erratic heartbeat.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong.

But horrifyingly enough, you return his embrace.

[halfmoondaze]

Yours To Keep

As I lay down, I glanced at my clock. 3 am. I normally don’t have a problem with falling asleep, but I guess my anxiety was getting the best of me. What can I say? I was too excited. It was like the stars finally align.

Was this too good to be true? Most likely. Is like, I think I’m not deserving of him. After all, he could have any girl he wanted, someone more famous, talented, or from the same industry as him. So…why me?

Don’t get me wrong, I always had the biggest embarrassing crush on him, and naturally, when we first met, I couldn’t contain my nerves. It was at the That’s What They All Say release party, and my best friend Josie, being a popular influencer, managed to get invited and knowing about my crush on him, made it her mission to get me to attend the party with her.

“No, you’re crazy I’m not going”

“Y/N this is your chance to meet your celebrity crush, what you’re so scared about?”

“I’m not scared, I’m just saving myself from the disappointment”

“And why would you be disappointed?”

“It’s nothing, never mind” you said looking away from her gaze.

“Don’t be like that c’mon, you know you can tell me”

“It’s kind of embarrassing”

“I’m sure it’s not, and even if it is who do you think I am to judge you?” she smiled at you.

“I guess I’m too delusional for thinking that there could be a possibility that if I met him, he would like me back” I looked down.

“That’s not embarrassing at all, it’s cute. You shouldn’t beat yourself for feeling like that. But I guess that if you don’t go, you’ll never find out”

And this is how I ended up in the middle of Jack’s album release party. It ended up not being as bad as I thought as Josie made sure to remain close to me and introduce me to people, she knew taking into consideration my nerves when I’m around people I don’t know. Which completely ease my nerves and made me loosen up a little.

Suddenly everyone started making some noise and clapping, and as I moved my gaze to where everyone was, I realized it was Jack that just arrived at the party. It was an interesting thing to see, is like the popular guy who everyone loved and wanted to be.

“Girl you’re down bad for him” Josie commented laughing as she noticed your lost expression when looking at him.

The party resumed as if nothing, and you were surprisingly having a good time. Suddenly, someone bumped into you and spilled their drink on you.

“Hey, watch where you’re going” Josie exclaimed at the person.

“I’m so sorry” Jack said as he turned around.

You were too stunned to speak.

“Great you just ruined my friend’s dress”

“Josie!” you called her out.

“No, she’s right. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you.

“That won’t be necessary, it's fine really”

He smiled at you.

“I’m Jack”

“Y/N”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before”

“Oh, you haven’t, I came with my friend Josie…she’s an influencer, I’m only a college student”

“What you study?”

“Fine Arts”

“I’m impressed”

“It’s nothing to be impressed about, I bet you surround yourself with more interesting people”

“Is that so? Because right now I think you’re the most interesting person in this room”

You blush in response.

And the rest was history.

You snapped back to reality when you felt Jack shift next to you.

“Babe, it's 3 in the morning, why are you awake?” he asked softly caressing your arm.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep”

“Are you feeling anxious?” he asked sitting in bed.

“It’s not like that really, I just couldn’t sleep”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was just reminiscing about the first time we met”

He smiled to himself.

“Like it’s crazy that we already been together for a year, I just can’t believe it”

“I can” you turned to look at him.

“How so?”

“You’re my soulmate. I thought you into my life and you just fell from the sky onto my lap. It’s as easy as that” he smiled at you.

“Yea but why me? You could have any girl you wanted”

“I can say the same thing about you”

He kissed you.

“I’ll tell you something, I was going to wait for tomorrow to give you this over dinner, but I think right now it feels right”

He glanced into his bedside table and showed you a black velvet box that he opened exposing a beautiful T narrow diamond ring.

“It’s a promise ring. I know you’ve always had your doubts about us, and I don’t blame you. So now that we are already one year together, I wanted to express my appreciation to you and promise you that I would remain committed to you and I would make sure you never have any doubts about being with me”

“Jack, I don’t know what to say….”

“You can say yes”

You just nodded your head from excitement.

He was indeed too good to be true.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[tinymilkshakecheesecake]

Blind Date - Cale Makar

This was partially inspired for Devon’s love of complimenting Cale on social media

Word Count - 1.6k

Cale knew he was running late.  The latest mindset book he was reading caught his attention and he didn’t realize it was time to leave until he was already going to be late.  He has no idea why he agreed to this.  “Devon wants me to go out more, but this is getting ridiculous,” he thinks.  Devon and his wife have a neighbor who also apparently needs to get out more and the two of them thought Cale and this mystery person will be attached at the hip afterwards and convinced or bullied (he’s not sure which) Cale into this.  He changes out of joggers, putting on better pants as he receives another text from Devon.  Devon has been repeatedly reminding Cale of the “date” they had arranged to make sure he doesn’t bail.  He puts on his shoes before grabbing his keys and wallet before running out the door, pausing only briefly to check the door.

He heads out of the elevator and pulls up the directions on his phone.  They set them up in a diner that was a short walking distance away from his building.  Not bothering to drive, he leaves the building, heading in the general direction of the diner.  Devon thinks he’ll be safe with the baseball game having already started and the quiet nature of the diner, but Cale isn’t completely convinced.  Devon texts him again, probably reminding him of his “date” to make sure he doesn’t leave the poor girl stranded.  He sees the diner and stops in front of it sighing before running a hand through his hair, a poor attempt to fix the messy strands.  “I really should have taken more time to get ready,” he thinks as nervous energy fills his stomach, unusual for him.  He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before entering.

---

KJ looks up as the door opens.  A boy approximately her age walks in, waiting patiently for the hostess to greet him.  Sighing, she drops her gaze back to her phone in hopes Kerry or even Devon texts her back with any updates on the guy.  He was ten minutes late at this point and Kerry was getting slower in her responses to her messages.  Glancing back up she sees the hostess leading the guy to her table.  She places her phone away as he approaches, giving him a shot even if he was ten minutes late at this point, noting his red cheeks.

As he pulls out the chair he begins to speak, “Hi.  I’m Cale.  I am so sorry I’m late.  I got caught up in a book and lost track of time.”

“Oh.  It’s okay.  It happens.  I’m KJ by the way.  What book?” KJ asks, surprising herself with her response.

His eyes widen, “Oh, um it's called, Zen Putting, by Bob Rotella. It helps with mindfulness and focusing on the process rather than the result.”

“Do you golf much?” She asks.

“Mainly in the summer, not much now.  Work picks up this time of year but the concepts talked about are applicable to other things.”

“That’s cool.  Have you read a lot of books on mindfulness?”

“Ya.  Actually my dad is really big into mindset and he introduced it to me when I was fourteen.  It helped me a lot and is something I still work on.”  She watches the way he speaks, sometimes almost stumbling over his words but shows interest in it.  They continue talking about anything that comes to mind until his voice begins to show signs of breaking as the waitress appears.

---

Cale looks up as the waitress approaches.  Quickly glancing at the menu, he finds something that is loosely diet approved and would work.  As KJ orders, he finds himself looking her over.  He notices the way she responds to the waitress, eyes kind as she talks to the waitress.  Once they’re done, they resume talking.

“What made you come to Denver?” He asks.

“Oh, they had a good collections program and was interested in that,” she replies.

“Wait really, like museum stuff?”

“Sometimes.  It depends on where because a lot of universities might not have museums but will have collections from other things.”

“That's cool,” he replies.  Their food comes and they continue to talk throughout their meal.  They have a relaxed discussion and Cale really enjoys himself as he notices himself relaxing more throughout the conversation.  Cale excuses himself to use the bathroom.

---

KJ watches the waitress come while Cale, dropping off the check.  She handed her her credit card opting to cover the bill.  Smiling, the waitress takes the card and leaves.  Cale returns as the waitress drops off the card

“Hey, I was going to cover that,” he says once the waitress leaves.

“Too bad,” KJ replies with a smirk, “you can get the next one.”

“Oh, I see how it is.  You expect to see me again?” he replies.  He folds his lips to bite back a smirk but fails.  “Do you want to walk around the park for a bit?”

“Sure,” KJ replies as she grabs her phone before standing, letting Cale take the lead, following him out of the restaurant.  Following him out she reflects on the past hour and a half talking to Cale.  She enjoyed herself and the conversation never seemed to get dull.  She also noticed that he got more relaxed with hints of a canadian accent sneaking out but his cheeks always remained pink.  

The sidewalk widens and Cale pauses for a second to let KJ catch up.  They resume talking.  As before, the conversation flowed and their strides match perfectly.  KJ feels relaxed as they walk by an avs poster featuring Cale.  

---

Cale tenses up when he sees the poster, not expecting there to be posters up of him yet.  

“Did you come this way to see your face,” she jokes.

Cale turns even more red than usual.  “Oh god,” he mumbles.  “I forget how soon posters will go up sometimes and didn’t realize it was that time yet.  It does get annoying to see your face everywhere in case you’re wondering,” he relies with a soft smile.

“I bet,” KJ replies, “I was on the performing arts council in high school and had my face on a banner outside the school for months to help fundraise.  It was horrible.”

Laughing, Cale leads the way to a secluded overlook within the park he frequently visits.  He checks in with himself and notices how comfortable he feels.  Maybe Devon was right, but he doesn’t need to tell him that.  Walking up to the overlook, Cale notices the sky beginning to turn colors.  They walk up to the fence and Cale decides to take a half step closer to KJ, moving into her personal space.  Looking up, She catches his eye and moves closer, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they watch the sunset.  Cale feels himself relax more, allowing himself to enjoy the contact and the view as the sun sets.  

When the sun dips below the horizon, Cale pulls back as he bites back a yawn.  He has training camp again tomorrow and knows he should call it a night soon.  “Hey, where’d you park,” he asks, knowing Devon lived a fair distance away.

“Oh, I took the train,” She replies.

“Oh, I can drive you home if you want,” he offers.

“I can take the train.  It's actually probably easier, especially because you’re tired.”

Cale blushes, “Here, let me atleast walk you to the station.  Is union station the one you’re using?”

“Ya, that's probably easiest.”

“You’ll text me when you get home right?”

“Um, if I get your number I will,” she chimes back at him, causing him to pull out his phone.

“Oh shit. Um, here,” he says as they exchange phones, Cale fighting back another blush.

They return their phones and head back, this time taking the longer path.  They walk in a comfortable silence through the mostly quiet park, passing a few dog owners and couples along the way and exchanging small smiles as they pass.  Once they return back to the buildings, their pace picks up as they return to the normal chaos of the city.  

---

They make their way to the station both lost in thought.  They walk side by side, each in their personal space, but neither one is uncomfortable with that.  They slow down once the station’s sign becomes visible, wanting to savor their last few minutes together.  

They reach the entrance and Cale turns to face KJ, opting to pull her into a hug.  “Text me when you get home, yeah?” he murmurs into her ear.  

His deep voice causes her to shiver slightly.  She nods, inhaling his scent for the first time before pulling away.  They say their goodbyes for the time being.  Cale watches her walk into the station.  He waits a few seconds before heading to his building. He decides to take the stairs, climbing up the flights to pass the time.  He gets to his floor, checking his phone for any missed messages from KJ.  Devon texts him again, probably annoyed at the lack of response.  Ignoring that, he gets ready for bed, replacing his contacts with glasses and packs what he’ll need for tomorrow to kill time. He hears his phone chime and he races across the room to get it, seeing a text message appear. Unlocking his phone, he sees a message from KJ.

Kj: home [insert picture of the inside of a door]

Cale: ty. Let’s meet up again soon. I’ll cover dinner this time

Kj: 👍

Cale smiles as he heads to his bedroom, turning off lights along the way before crawling into bed and placing his glasses on the nightstand and falling asleep.