#best earbuds deal for gifting

[rudrjobdesk]

Amazon Sale On Earbuds OnePlus Boat Ptron Earbuds Under 2000 Best Wireless Earbuds For Gaming New Year Christmas Gift Idea

Amazon Sale On Earbuds OnePlus Boat Ptron Earbuds Under 2000 Best Wireless Earbuds For Gaming New Year Christmas Gift Idea

Amazon Sale On Earbuds: डेली यूज के लिये या किसी को गिफ्ट करने के लिये अमेजन पर हेडफोन डील चेक करना मिस ना करें. सेल में OnePlus Boat, और Ptron ईयरबड्स 60% के डिस्काउंट पर मिल रहे हैं. लुक में बेहद शानदार दिखने वाले इन हेडफोन में 2 दिन तक चलने वाली बैटरी, फास्ट चार्जिंग और  गेमिंग मोड के अलावा और भी कई दमदार फीचर्स हैं. सेल में इनकी कीमत हजार रुपये से शुरू है Amazon All Deals And Offers 1-Newly…

[anmolsmsblog]

ScriMemo Unicorn Toys for 2 3 4 5 6 Years Old Girls Gifts, LCD Writing Tablet 10 inch Doodle Board, Colorful Electronic Drawing Pad Gifts for Kids Educational Learning Travel Christmas Birthday –Pink

Price: (as of – Details) LCD Writing Tablet It is simple and interesting to use the lcd writing tablet. It allows children and adults to create and record important moments in their lives anytime, anywhere! One Key to Lock With the lock design, your favorable drawing or sketches will not erase accidentally. You can freely enjoy your drawing and writing with your family and friends. One Key to…

[zepskies]

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.” 

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail. 

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.” 

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

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@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

[shanardo13]

Obikin College Au - RA/Don! Obi-Wan/First Year! Anakin - Part Three

Honestly, at this point I should probably just start writing it, but I keep thinking of little ideas for this au and want to keep track of them, so I present to you: Part Three 😈

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

At this point, they are becoming inseparable - Ahsoka would say insufferable. Both are applicable.

Whenever Anakin has errands to run, he texts Obi-Wan to come with him. Obi-Wan has started to do the same. Now most of their outings involve running errands for each of them.

Anakin: u free? I gotta hit Walmart and get supplies for my project.

Obi-Wan: yeah I’m free. Think u could get it from staples at the mall instead?

Obi-Wan: I wanna go to Sephora and Hot Topic. Need eyeliner and I wanna look at band shirts.

Anakin: omfg 🙄

Anakin: jk jk that sounds perfect! Meet outside subway station in ten?

Obi-Wan: sounds good!

And then they meet in front of the subway station like they planned.

They both bring earbuds to the subway, so really they could listen to their own music, but they never do. Instead they share a pair and sit huddled up together, taking turns picking songs.

They can both be kind of pretentious with music, so they work well together. Despite their differences, they impress each other with their knowledge and love of the same music.

“Anakin, Wings is leagues better than Plastic Ono Band, and anyone who doesn’t think so is just stupid.”

“Oh, McCartney is just bubblegum pop and we both know it, Obi. At least Lennon had substance.”

“Substance abuse issues, maybe.”

“Can we at least agree that Harrison’s work is significantly underrated?”

“Oh definitely. All Things Must Pass is the best post-Beatles solo album in my opinion.”

“Yes! Thank you! Do you want to listen to it?”

When they get to the mall, they immediately head to their favourite little coffee shop in the centre of the food court. Obi-Wan always buys, so Anakin usually makes it up to him by finding him a little gift.

“You just want your regular?”

“Obi-Wan, I’ve told you numerous times. I can afford my own coffee. You don’t have to buy it for me.”

“Shut up, I want to.” He turns to the employee and repeats their drink orders. “And a strawberry danish please!”

They sit in the food court while they drink their beverages and Anakin eats his danish, conversation flowing endlessly. Lots of inside jokes and giggles are shared. Then they continue on with their shopping.

They go to staples first, as Obi-Wan has dubbed it the ‘not-fun’ part of their trip.

“Anakin, you’re getting office supplies for a school project. Boring! Let’s get it out of the way first!”

“Okay, fine.” Anything for you! Literally anything you ask, any time, I would say yes. I’m at your mercy

They grab what Anakin needs at Staples and then head to Sephora.

Obi-Wan spends far too long sifting through various shades of black eyeliner. They all look the same.

“Anakin, which is better? ‘Midnight’ or ‘Jet Black’?” He holds up two pencils.

Anakin studies them. He tries really hard to spot a difference between them and to subsequently make a decision.

“Uhh… I guess, ‘Midnight’ ?” He suggests, pointing to ‘Jet Black’.

Afterwards they head to Hot Topic to look at the band shirts. This has both of them captivated.

“Anakin, it’s buy three get the fourth free. If we each pick two we can get the deal and then just split the cost for the rest.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I understand. But what if we each picked four?”

“You don’t need four new shirts!!!”

They settle on each getting two. When Anakin buys Obi-Wan a cool chain necklace with a scorpion on it that he had been eyeing, it’s only as a repayment for the coffee. Nothing else.

When Obi-Wan buys Anakin a pair of dangly sword earrings, it’s only because he thinks they would look really good on Anakin and he’s not too bashful to admit it. He wasn’t going to spend any time thinking about what that might mean.

“Please put them on! They totally suit you!”

“Oh fine!” Anakin obliges. They’re in the washroom after leaving Hot Topic. He puts the earrings on, as Obi-Wan watches him in the mirror.

“See! You look hot, Ani.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He mutters, blushing a fierce red as the two of them maintain eye contact in the mirror. You can’t just say something like that and expect me to be normal about it!

So Anakin walks around the mall, sword earrings proudly on display.

They go to Indigo because Obi-Wan is an English major and is passionate about literature. He wants to buy a book for Anakin to read so they can talk about it.

“I think you’ll really like Slaughterhouse-Five. Vonnegut is a very satirical author, and I think you’ll appreciate his dark sense of humour. Plus, it has science fiction elements! He uses aliens and a warped concept of time to highlight the trauma and impact of war. You’ll love it!”

“It sounds cool! I’ll give it a go!”

Anakin likely would have never picked it up on his own, but the way Obi-Wan’s eyes lit up and the pace of his speech quickened as he spoke with great passion about the novel made it entirely worth reading.

After the mall, they go to the park together. They sit down at a spot under a tree. Obi-Wan leans against the tree. He grabs a journal from his book bag and begins writing in it - just lil poems and thoughts. Definitely not about Anakin.

Anakin stretches out and rests his head on Obi-Wan’s lap. He starts reading the copy of ‘Slaughterhouse-Five’ that Obi-Wan bought for him.

They sit there for a long time in silence, each focusing on their own task but enjoying each others company.

Eventually Obi-Wan stops writing, putting his journal away in his bag.

The sun is starting to set, and as he glances down at Anakin, he notices how it highlights his features.

He notices the warmth of his skin brightened by the light - the gold of his curls enunciated in the glow.

He reaches down and rakes his fingers through the curls as Anakin continues reading.

“Thank you for today. Trips like this mean everything to me.” You mean everything to me.

Anakin stops where he’s reading and folds the corner of the page. Obi-Wan winces - he would never damage a book like that.

Anakin looks up at him, leaning into the fingers in his hair, practically purring. It’s enough to stop Obi-Wan from cursing him for folding the pages of a book.

“Of course, Obi. Things are always more fun with you.” He hums.

Obi-Wan smiles down at him, giving his scalp light scratches. I’m not thinking about kissing him.

“You’re like a little cat.” He ruffles his locks before pulling his hand away. He gives Anakin’s nose a boop.

Anakin huffs and pulls himself into a sitting position so they’re face to face. He stares at Obi-Wan for a moment, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Suddenly, he stands up, reaching for Obi-Wan’s hand. “C’mon.” He says.

“Oh, what now?” Obi-Wan groans and grabs the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“You’re going to buy me ice cream from the stand over there!” Anakin beams, interlocking their fingers and pointing to an ice cream cart in the distance.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but can’t control the smile tugging at his lips.

And so they go to the cart. Obi-Wan buys Anakin an ice cream cone. He wouldn’t do it if it didn’t make him happy - or rather, if it didn’t make Anakin happy which in turn made him happy.

As Anakin devours the cone they make their way back to the subway station. Their hands stay intertwined the entire way.

Mindlessly, Obi-Wan rubs his thumb up and down against Anakin’s palm.

All in all, it was quite a perfect day.

I promise at some point I’ll actually start writing this - I can’t promise I won’t post more of these before that though. 😎

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

1, 4, 10, 13, 14, 23, 25, 29

what song makes you feel better?

Okayokay. So it’s a cover of an unreleased song that someone made on garageband. Okay. Wasted Summer by MaybeEh (lyrics are incorrect, just ignore those guys)

I don’t know what it is about this song!! it just!! scratches an itch in my brain that other songs just Can’t reach. And I don’t get it!

Several weeks ago I was having a mental Time; my brain’s loudness level was at record-breaking levels (not even in an overtly unpleasant way, but my gosh it was Loud) and the only way I could think of to deal with that/cope was pace around my room Aggressively wave my hands and hum tunelessly. for like. minutes.

But then !! I remembered this song!! And I laid myself down on the floor of my bedroom, stuck in my earbuds, turned the volume up Real loud, and let the song play. AND IT HELPED SO MUCH IT WAS CRAZY!!! The loudness of the song overtook the loudness of my brain!! And by the end of the song I had successfully calmed down :)

It was a very neat experience and I find it quite amusing that the only thing that truly calmed me in that situation was listening to garageband song covers at loud volumes lol

what flower would you like to be given?

I do Not care to be perfectly honest. I’m not much of a flower person, never have been, though I do find them pretty and I think I would Melt if I was ever given any. Someone could pick me a single dandelion and if it was given to me out of love I would treasure that weed until it wilted apart.

THAT BEING SAID! I adore cherry blossoms and would get very excited over them :]

what’s something you’re excited for?

Sleeping in a real bed 😭 I miss my bed… I haven’t been able to sleep on it in so many days. I miss my bed, Bia. I miss my bed. Bed.

what’s your comfort food?

I’m not too sure if I have a comfort food? I have foods that I really really like & enjoy but calling them comforting feels a bit of a stretch. I will gladly eat an entire bag of peanut butter chocolate chips so perhaps that <3 Or a starbucks frappuccino maybe…

favorite feel-good show?

Bluey :’) That show has made me Almost Cry and that is incredibly un-easy to do. Definitely my comfort show. The Sign hits way too close to my chest and Mackenzie is so cute and it’s such a genuine & good show. It makes me smile a lot :)

OH OH OH and also this episode/stream of Dream SMP that is about Tommy & Ghostbur spending time at Technoblade’s house <3 It’s so soft and fluffy and is filled to the Brim with wonderful Ghostbur moments. I have watched it so many times. I love him so much.

favorite piece of clothing?

MY GHOSTBUR SWEATER!!! orrrrr my green bucket hat!! My Ghostbur sweater fills me with lots & lots of happiness and it’s Definitely my most comforting piece of clothing; I often put it on whenever I’m feeling a bit sad or in need of comfort, and it really does help me feel better! The pure excitement I felt when I came across it in a thrift store Oh my goodness.

And my bucket hat is just part of my character design at this point. My friends recognize me by it, it is so silly & whimsical, it pairs nicely with most of my outfits :)

what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.)

Literally Anything would make me get emotional & would overflow my heart with love okay I am Not a picky girl when it comes to gifts. That being said my heart overflows in a Certain way whenever I am gifted art!!

morning, afternoon or night?

Morning, mayhaps? It’s a very pleasant time of day for me. I really love it whenever I wake up (accidentally) at like 6am and the world is still dark and no one else is awake yet so I have the house to myself and I can make myself food and wander around and pretend that I am alone and !!! I wrote an essay about this actually.

[tinylilemrys]

Lonely In London

Relationship:

Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

Additional Tags:

Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm posting at least the first two chapters on Tumblr, because I have no idea when AO3 is going to be back on its feet and I know I'm looking for fanfic on here too. 💛

CHAPTER 1

It starts one relatively normal weekday in June. Henry is in the living room, with his iPad and new Richmond-branded headphones, a welcome-back-to-England gift from Jamie. Ted is a few feet away at the kitchen table, putting together his plan for the upcoming season.

He's not supposed to be working. Not yet. He's been ordered by Rebecca to take the month to focus on rest and spending as much time with Henry as possible. It's his reward for an incredibly hard-fought season.

Unfortunately Ted's never been one to take much of a break. Not when there was so much still to do.

If he's being honest, a lot of it has to do with Nate's betrayal. It stung then and it stings now and the only way Ted can think of dealing with it is by being better than they were last season. He wishes Nate all the best on his new adventure with West Ham, he really does, but it would be great to succeed in the face of Nate's spiteful turn.

He can't stop thinking about how it had cost Trent his job, and that, more than anything, makes Ted furious. The club would recover, but he could never go back to being Trent Crimm, The Independent.

His train of thought is interrupted by an excited shriek from Henry, who up until that point, Ted assumed was playing games on his iPad.

"Dad! Dad! Guess what? They used my question!" he yells, bounding up to his dad and handing him an earbud. Ted laughs, partly in confusion, partly because Henry is so earnestly excited.

"Whoa, hold on now, Bud. I'm gonna need you to take several steps back in this conversation so I have context." He pops the earbud in. "Who are you sending questions to?"

"It's this podcast called 'Help, I'm So Sad'," Henry explains. "They take questions from people who are sad and give them advice."

Ted's stomach plummets. Both he and Michelle knew it was a risk, having Henry come to London for the whole summer. The idea was to give Michelle a break to spend some time with Doc-- with her new boyfriend, while giving Ted some quality time with his son. Throw in the promise of one-on-one training with Henry's hero, Jamie Tartt, and it seemed like a solid plan, albeit one with the potential to go terribly wrong. Henry has never been away from home as long as that, and now, barely a month into his time here, it seems like Henry is so sad he had to write into a podcast about it.

"Oh, Henry," Ted manages to choke out when his breath returns to his lungs a bit. "I love that you're admitting you need help. That's a very important step that not even a lot of grownups get to. I just wish that you knew you could talk to me about these things too. What's got you so sad? Do you want to talk about it or do you just need a hug right now?"

"No, Dad, it's not for me." Henry giggles as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Ted feels some of the sensation come back to his hands. Maybe he's not a complete failure as a father after all. In fact, he's so relieved that his son isn't sad to the point of getting write-in advice about it, that the next sentence completely blindsides him. "I wrote to get advice for you."

Oh. Well. Shit.

"Now that was mighty thoughtful of you, Bud," he says, measuring his voice, trying not to panic. The earnest smile on his son's face tells him that all of this was done with the absolute best of intentions. He'll have to course correct on where the healthy boundaries are when it comes to personal struggles, but he can't rightly be mad at his son for something that was done out of kindness. "What did you write to them?"

"Listen," says Henry, scrubbing back a bit in the episode. Ted obeys, heart hammering against his ribcage, the foreboding bubbling up inside him, turning his stomach.

"Smidge," says a woman with a clipped English accent.

"Bits." says a voice in response.

"Lauren says we're going to love this next letter."

"Ooh, I'm listening," Her accent sounds Scottish. At least Ted won't struggle to tell their voices apart.

"It's from 'My Dad's Sad'… aged nine and a half."

Smidge gives a small squeak.

"Oh, we're not going to survive this, are we?" she says.

"Probably not," laughs Bits. "Okay here it goes. Dear HISS. My friend told me about this show. Her mom listens to it a lot, even though we're in America and you're in England. My dad is also in England, so I was hoping you would be able to give him some advice since you're right there.

"He's been very sad ever since him and my mom got divorced. My mom has a new boyfriend and they seem to be happy, but my dad is still sad. He says that he's happy with work and even though he has a really cool job that he's very good at, I can see that he isn't happy. He pretends to be and I think most of his friends at work think he is, but I know he isn't. Even though we still play catch and Minecraft and build LEGO like we used to, I can tell the whole time he's not enjoying it like he did before. He doesn't ever go out on dates or even talk to anyone except his work friends. I don't get to see him a lot, since I don't normally live in London with him, so I don't know how to help. How can I make my dad be happy again like he used to always be? Love, My Dad Is Sad, nine and a half."

"Oh bless him," says Smidge. "Well, My Dad Is Sad, I think in this case the only advice we can really give you is to talk to your dad about it. He probably doesn't know that seeing him unhappy is upsetting you as much as it is."

"Yeah, I agree," says Bits. "And maybe he hasn't given himself the permission to let the old times go yet. I know when my parents got divorced, my mum struggled a long time with letting go of what we used to be. She didn't date for ages afterwards because she said she didn't want to introduce too much change into my life, but it was really her excuse for not wanting to move on herself. And you know what, My Dad Is Sad? He sounds like a really good father even though you don't get to see him a whole lot. Sounds to me like if you talked to him about this, he would be willing to listen."

"Of course I would," says Ted, who has tears streaming down his face despite his best efforts to keep it together. He removes the earbud and pulls Henry into a tight hug. "Oh man, I didn't realise you were so worried about me, Champ."

"I try not to be," says Henry, and Ted can hear by the wobble in his voice that he's also crying. "I just wish things could be like they used to be."

"I know, I know. I do too," says Ted, rubbing Henry's back soothingly before pulling away to look him in the eyes. "But, hey, look, I need you to know that I am getting help, alright?. I have a great therapist who's helping me work through a whole bunch of things I've never ever thought to work through. Things I'll be able to explain to you properly when you're a bit older. So even though I might be sad now, and even though it might not ever go away completely, I want you to know I'm working on getting better, okay?"

"Okay," nods Henry. He wipes his arm across his eyes. "Sorry for crying so much."

"Hey now, ain't nothing wrong with a good cry," says Ted. "And in any case, I started it. So you don't get to be sorry about it even if you wanted to be."

"That's not how it works, Dad." Henry smiles a little and it's better than the sun peaking between the clouds on a rainy London day.

"Oh, shoot, you're so right." He slaps his forehead for comedic effect, this time even drawing a little giggle from his son.

I really do owe you so much, Kiddo, he thinks to himself.

"Look, would it count as a start if I wrote into these kind ladies to say thank you for the advice?" Henry nods enthusiastically and Ted laughs. "Well, that's settled then."

He saves and closes the report he was working on and opens his email.

"Dear Smidge and Bits," he says out loud as he types. "And Lauren too I guess…"

He begins typing up the email, Henry leaning against his shoulder until he gets bored and goes off to play on his iPad some more. Once he's sure that Henry's engrossed in his task again, Ted decides to give his letter a bit more context, so that they understand he's not a completely lost cause.

After reading and rereading the message again, he sends it off, taking a deep breath as it moves from his outbox to his sent folder. The afternoon sun is striping across the living room floor and Ted realises they've been too cooped up all day. It's time to head down to the Green for a kickaround.

"Hey, Bud, boot up. We're heading out."

***

It doesn't matter how many times Trent leaves Anabelle, it never gets any easier. She looks so genuinely distraught that he feels physically ill looking at her. She loves Shaun, Trent knows she does, but she's still so little, and he knows she doesn't understand what's happening to her. When Trent deposits her into her other father's arms and turns to leave, and she screams like she's being subjected to the deepest betrayal, Trent feels his heart break that little bit more.

After one last glance back at the house, where Shaun has finally managed to wrestle the door closed behind him and the screaming four-year-old, Trent sighs, sets his satnav from "Shaun's Place" to "Home" so he doesn't get lost, and reluctantly pauses the complete Bluey soundtrack. He's about to get going when he remembers that he's promised to text Ted that he's safely in Aberdeen.

He doesn't usually text Ted his whereabouts. It was all down to a chance encounter a few days ago out on the Richmond Green. He'd bumped into Ted and Henry kicking a football back and forth and when he explained that he was taking Anabelle to get her favourite ice-cream, Ted asked if he and Henry could tag along.

Trent wasn't about to find a reason to say no even if there was one.

Despite the growing pit of dread in his stomach at having to leave his daughter, he'd had a surprisingly good afternoon. While Henry and Anabelle had giggled together about whatever kids find funny at that age, Ted and Trent had talked about everything and nothing. About Trent's firing and Richmond's chances in the upcoming season. About Henry staying for the summer and about how it was Anabelle's other father's turn to take her. Trent could have spent all day there, but a huge chocolate-stained yawn from his daughter had told him it was time to say his farewells.

"Hey, I know we're not on best bud terms yet," Ted had said and Trent had smiled at the word 'yet'. Like it was an inevitability that they would be one day. "It's just I know it's a long drive to Aberdeen and it would set my mind at ease to know that you made it there safe."

"I'll text you when I get there," Trent had replied, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the idea that Ted was that concerned about his safety.

"I'd appreciate it, Mr Independent." Ted had offered the most devastating wink then, and Trent knew there was no way he wasn't going to do as promised.

It's nice to have a somewhat positive excuse to text him for a change. The past few texts back have all been Trent delivering bad news, including the latest one informing Ted that he'd accidentally locked his keys in his car. Okay, maybe that had been worse for him.

Hi, Ted – in Aberdeen safely. I'm just stopping at a service station to get a coffee and a bite to eat and then should be on my way back to London. Thanks again for your concern. Hope you're having a lovely Saturday with Henry.

By the time he gets to the nearest service station, there's a voice note waiting from Ted.

"Hey TC! Thanks for the message! Glad to hear you made it to Scotland safe. Hope you're holding up okay? I know it doesn't get any easier to let go of your kiddo, no matter how many times you do the handover. Holler if you want to talk about it. Or even if you want someone to take your mind off it. I have it on good authority that my ability to talk for hours about absolutely nothing is practically a superpower."

Trent gives a little huff of laughter at the direct quote from one of his Ted Lasso articles.

"At the very least, please let me know when you're back in London again, no matter what time of the night it is. Drive safe and I'll see you around."

He probably won't – not with Trent no longer covering AFC Richmond – but it's a lovely thought all the same. As is the idea that he has an offer to call Ted for the sake of just talking to him for a bit of company. He can't imagine working up the nerve to actually take him up on it, but it's fun to imagine.

He reacts to the message with a heart emoji, and then, panicking how that might come across, changes it to a sunflower instead. Friendly. Happy. Safe.

He really is such an idiot when it comes to Ted.

Fuelled up on coffee, an overpriced BLT, and, well, actual fuel, Trent loads up the latest episode of his friend's podcast and begins the long journey back to London.

He refers to Help, I'm So Sad as his friend's podcast, but he's not sure he could actually classify Lauren as a friend. Certainly, they were colleagues for many years and she was one of the people he hated the least. She worked in a different department, covering high society. Until one day as legend had it (Trent had been covering a match that day) she'd declared loudly to everyone in the cafeteria that she couldn't take it anymore, strode out of the building, and never came back.

Though he was convinced at the time that it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard someone do to their career, he couldn't help but admire the nerve it must have taken. Now, with the hindsight of his own firing, it seems even cooler. He wishes he could have left The Independent with his head held high, instead of with his eyes on the carpet, trying to balance the embarrassment of his dismissal with the lack of regret he felt at treating Ted like a decent human being..

In any case, Trent finds her podcast quite entertaining and listens to it as often as he can. What better remedy for his own foul mood could there be than listening to other people's problems for an hour?

At first, it's not particularly effective. The voices seem to blend into the sound of rain beating against his windshield as Trent wonders if Anabelle has stopped crying by now. If Shaun's remembered to take out her favourite bath time toys. If he still remembers all the words to her special lullaby.

It's only the phrase 'My Dad Is Sad' that draws him out of his lull.

"…then we have an exciting follow up for you," says Bits. "My Dad Is Sad's sad dad reached out to the show after hearing his son's lovely little letter."

"Ohhhh my god," says Smidge. "I'm going to be a wreck."

So am I, thinks Trent. He'd cried at the kid's letter last episode.

"Well buckle up then," says Bits. "Sorry, listeners. This one's a little on the long side, but if you're anything like us, you won't care all that much. Here we go."

Bits starts reading the letter, and Trent, indeed, doesn't care that it's longer than normal because it's perfect.

Dear Smidge and Bits (and Lauren too, I guess)

He can't help but smile at Lauren being included.

I can't say I know much about your show, other than that my sweet boy decided you were the right people to talk to about my overwhelming sadness for the past few years. I have a smart kid, and I trust his judgement, so as such, I have to thank you for the kind advice you gave him.

I want it to be known that I am in therapy and I'm working on getting myself back up on my feet. There's a lot I've been struggling with that I didn't know I was struggling with, even beyond the divorce, and as I'm working through it, I'm starting to slowly return to myself. That's not to say I have it all figured out. More than anything I'm still trying to figure out how to be a good full-time dad when I only get a fraction of the time I want with my kid.

Trent's stomach does a little somersault. As silly and parasocial as he knows it is to feel things for a person who for all intents and purposes isn't real, he can't help but be taken by this man and the way he talks about getting better for his son's sake. It's why he'd insisted on couples therapy when he was still married. It's why he immediately found a therapist for both Anabelle and him after the split. After the disaster of Shaun, there's nothing Trent finds sexier than a man who's serious about his mental health.

And that's not even touching on my love life, the lack of which seems to be causing my kid a deal of concern. It's not for lack of trying. My job makes dating a little more complicated than it is for most folks and I realise that after 20 years of being in the same relationship, I don't have the game I once thought I did. I've been in a bit of a situationship with a lovely lady on and off for the past couple years and when I tried to shift it over into the relationship zone, I was soundly and correctly shut down.

"Sounds like a mistake to me, Ma'am," mutters Trent, chastising himself even as he does. He's being ridiculous. The man could be a serial killer for all he knows. She might have actually made an incredibly intelligent decision. He doesn't know and he shouldn't care.

Now, I have a crush on a guy that it would be way too complicated to date.

Bisexuality? Now that is a plot twist. And it's not doing anything to stop the surge of affection he feels for this random anonymous person.

Not between the two of us, mind. I think we'd get along like a house on fire. We do get on like a house on fire. But it would be a bit of a PR nightmare and I don't want to put our burgeoning friendship in the line of fire like that. For that reason, I've decided tamping down my romantical feelings so I can just focus on being his friend. I think it's something we both need.

That's pobably for the best, honestly. Trent has been witness to and involved in his own fair share of PR disasters throughout his career. It rarely ends well.

All that to say, as much as I'm working on getting better, I'm honestly still pretty lonely. It's not helped by being a fish out of water in a country that only just now seems to be warming to me. I guess if I could ask any advice from my own perspective, it would be: how do you start again and put yourself out there after 20 years of being so firmly off the market, you tried to believe the market didn't exist?

Sincerely,

Lonely in London.

Smidge and Bits immediately set about providing all the advice they can, but Trent isn't really paying attention anymore.

He feels for this man. He knows what it's like to be so lonely it aches. Even in his marriage, things had been so fraught that most nights he lay next to Shaun feeling like a shell. There was always something inside him reaching out for something life sustaining that he was fundamentally lacking – like lungs trapped underwater gasping for air.

And he knows firsthand how London exacerbates that feeling. People who'd sooner spit in your face than ask you how you're doing. Cold modern buildings that make you feel insignificant in comparison. Grimy old structures that remind you the city's history spans millennia and your story is barely a blip on the radar. The contrast of windows glowing gold at night against the icy blue of the streets, reminding you that there are people that don't feel the same crushing isolation.

And, sure, Anabelle is a lifeline against the crushing loneliness, but what is he supposed to do when she's an eight hour drive away? He can't even imagine being on a different continent to his child altogether.

This is how Lonely In London consumes his thoughts for hours. Trent finds himself scrubbing back in the episode to listen to the letter again, until he practically has it committed to memory, each time feeling a deeper connection to this complete stranger.

If this man is Lonely In London, he's Isolated in Islington, and he's never related to anyone more.

If you were being honest, a nasty voice says in his head at about the four hour mark, you would admit that the reason you feel like you fancy this guy is because he reminds you of Ted.

With that final unhelpful thought, Trent knows it's time to change the subject. He finds one of his old faithful football podcasts and decides he won't spend another second more thinking about Lonely In London or Ted Lasso, even when he's brought up in discussions about Richmond's chances this season.

It's almost two in the morning when he finally gets back to his flat. He's too tired to even change out of his clothes, instead collapsing face-first onto his bed and toeing off his shoes over the side. He's about to let himself slip off to sleep when he remembers he promised Ted he'd text him when he got home. Groggily, he picks up his phone and types a quick message.

Home safe. Smooth drive home. Thanks again for the concern. Sleep well.

It's barely a minute later when his phone buzzes. Did Ted wait up for him?

Glad to hear you're home in one piece. Sleep tight, Trent Crimm. 🌻

It's only the next morning that he fully notices the sunflower and decides that with Ted Lasso around, perhaps London is a little less lonely than it used to be.

Next Chapter

[jaaduse]

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[magic-hcs]

Would love a matchup~

Some basics:

-She/her

-5.7" (172cm) tall

-Fair skinned, blue eyes, blond medium length hair, glasses, a bit of soft squishy chub

-Pansexual

Who am I?

I'm on the autism spectrum, so I'm often shy and quiet to begin with, especially in crowds. Unless you mention something I'm interested/passionate about then expect sparkles as I rant. Then get profusely embarrassed and blushy after said rant. Never out and about without my earbuds/headphones, listening to music keeps me from getting over stimulated.

I love to dye my hair all sorts of colors. I mostly tend to stick to reds and purples, but occasionally change things up with another color, blue, green, pink, rainbow. Would totally dye my hair the same color as their magic for fun.

Don't follow fashion trends, I wear what I like. Can go from wearing all black to colourful outfits. Likes layers, often wear dresses and skirt. Lots of knitted clothes. Soft cottagecore. Doesn't wear much makeup day to day, but when I'm going out or during special occasions I'll go all out and look absolutely bomb every time. Self conscious about my looks and struggle a bit with my body but still try to wear what I want.

I prefer home dates, but love to every now and then go out, cinema, go out to eat, shopping, hiking or other fun activities that's not too high energy*.

Struggle with ME*(chronic fatigue syndrome), so I have good days and bad days. Only have really bad days if I push myself too much physically. Mostly just manage to move myself from bed to couch. So wont always be able to keep up with chores or go out when I have bad days. Try to do some crafts but don't always have the energy for it. Despite it all I have a positive outlook and always try my best to make the best of the day.

I'm bad at initiating physical touch at first, but I love being close to my partner. You know I'm crushing on somone when I start leaving touches and once we're steady I'll start leaning into them for comfort when I'm getting overstimulated. They become my safe haven. Mostly just physical with a partner. Love being together and touching in some way, if were doing something together or doing separate things in the same space. Arms touching, leaning into each other, head/legs on lap. If their head is on my lap and I have a free hand, I will be softly caress their head, chest or somewhere else. Occasionally I will need some alone time to decompress.

Very creative and have all sorts of creative hobbies. Always interested in learning new things and can often spend hours learning and watching videos of my current hyperfixation.

I run my own little online store were I sell my creations.

On to my hobbies, I'll make this short and sweet~

-Knitting, Crochet, Jewelry making, Beading, Clay, Painting, Resin, Sticker making, Graphic design, Illustration, Video games(pc, switch), movies and series(live action and animated), Reading, Writing, Baking, Sewing, Photography, 3D design, Playing my Kalimba(thumb piano)

- I love to collect cute things, figures, trinkets, miniatures, plushies, scented candles, essential oils and fairy lights. Have way too many soft, fluffy blankets and pillows.

My love language for giving is quality time and gifts(love to give handmade gifts to people I love), for receiving it's acts of service and gifts(I don't care about expensive stuff, just the fact they saw something no mater what it is and thought of me enough to buy/make, gives me the big fuzzies).

A deal breaker for me is bad hygiene, especially not washing those hands or regularly brush their teeth (this might lean more towards humans rather then skeleton monsters). Somone who doesn't like animals, I come with at least 2 cats and a dog. Wants to have pet rats again.

I love when my hair is played with, having somone run their fingers through my hair and/or messaging my scalp and I'll immediately turn into a puddle. Absolutely adore the sound of purring, one of the best sounds in the world.

Dislike strong smells and hard, stiff fabrics. Haven't worn jeans in over 10 years.

Not particularly any physical traits I'm attracted to, it's all about their personality. I love someone who can make me laugh, someone who I can be silly with. Somone who will help and support me during my bad days without complaint. Somone who I can relax and be lazy with, but also somone who can push me a bit to go out more, small daily walks (love a little quiet nature walks).

I'm ok with multiple matches and love me a cute poly~

Can't wait to see who you match me with 💚 Hopefully I didn't rant on to much >w<;;

Gonna start off and say I love your essay about yourself, organized enough to make finding stuff I need easier! And you don’t have to worry, you didn’t rant too much!

Let’s do this!

Matchups are closed!

~~matching…~~matching~….~matching~~…~DING~

You match with Syrup!

✨✨

(US Papyrus): Syrup:

I feel like Syrup knew you from one of his brother’s short lived clubs (Sky loves trying out all kinds of hobbies but to prevent him getting too bored of it he cycles through them) or from his D&D club/campaigns. So Syrup sees you around sometimes, at first he hadn’t talked to you often, he heard all kinds of good stuff about you from Sky so he got curious. Then one day he or his brother mention something and you start gushing. And oh boy, oh boy, Syrup practically sees you start to glow as you rant, and then you get embarrassed and blushy and Syrup can’t help but find you adorable. He acts on the urge to make a joke to lighten up the situation and brush off your embarrassment because there’s no need to be embarrassed about ranting about things you love. And your laugh is like music to his non-existing ears.

You guys become the best of friends, I can tell you that. Syrup encourages you to use your headphones/earbuds to help you out from getting overstimulated. He gets it, his own coping mechanism to deal with overwhelm-ness, stress and frustration is to suck on lollipops. Everyone got their own things. Very early on you two made a system where Syrup either draws your attention by waving when he wants to talk to you, or he sends a message to the device you’re currently using to draw your attention. It’s so neither of you get frustrated.

As everyone knows, Syrup is one clumsy boy. So he falls often. Meaning he can fall into a crush quite easily. It’s a tiny crush that makes him a bit more clumsy and stuttery/easily flustered but those he can get over quickly. However as he gets to know you, he trips further and ends up falling hard.

He loves the colors you dye your hair in. Syrup likes to guess what new color you’re dying your hair with. If you dye your hair the same color as Syrup’s magic then you succeeded in crashing his system! He straight up freezes as his entire face erupts in a darkish orange color and a high pitched whistle leaves him.

Loves anything you wear. I’m legit, this boy believes you’re gorgeous, he adores you in whatever you choose to wear. As long as you like it and are comfortable in it. Be prepared to get your chub worshiped because come on, an amazing pillow is right there and it’s made of you. Syrup would be crazy to not love that.

While we are on the topic, he loves to nap on you.

The moment you give him any sign of an ok he’s all over you with touch. Syrup is a cuddle bug true and through, you can’t change my mind. However before you two are together, it’s more small touches and sitting closer together. The moment you guys are together he goes full on cuddles and snuggles. He blushes while he initiates contact at first but the more he does it the less flustered he gets. Until you start initiating touch back. Syrup goes straight back to being flustered. The first time you leaned on him he swears he had died and gone to heaven or something.

Syrup too sometimes needs his alone time.

On the bad days Syrup will either just join you on the couch or message you memes and joke around to make you smile.

Once he learns you have your own store he’s buying stuff from it, he already loves stuff you make he just wanna show his support. That being said, if you made him something he will treasure it forever.

He likes animals and he wouldn’t mind pets, him and Sky were planning to get a dog anyways. He loves to play with your critters.

This boy will deadass giggle at your blunt/brutally honest comments. He loves that a lot about you.

✨✨

[shojizbae]

Music Box

Getting kicked out of your prestigious ballet académie wasn’t nearly as much of a slap in the face as the reason. Mid-class I had a very flare-up with my powers and ended up injuring one of my snooty classmates. I didn’t realize that my school was run by normie supremacists. They didn’t want an outcast student in their school so they cast me out.

It was all too infuriating settling into a new dorm, making friends with my roommate, and dealing with the rumors that come with being the new kid. One of the worst parts is that I couldn’t stand my roommate. She was almost exactly like the girl I had injured. My roommate's name is Veronica. She is a vampire and thinks that because my powers don’t cause any noticeable physical quirks I don’t belong at Nevermore.

She thinks my life is so much easier than hers because of it. And she constantly complains so tonight I decided to let off some steam. After being banished from the académie, I hung up my pointe shoes but I believe it’s time to have a little workout.

I kept one artifact dear to me from the outside world. It was a music box my father had gifted me. It played the tinkly melody of the sugar plum fairy. I was supposed to play her in the upcoming season. It’s October and I have already been through five rounds of auditions and almost a thousand hours of rehearsals. I had this down pat but now my muscles are weak from rest.

I packed a string bag with my point shoes, toe pads, ribbons, and resin. I put my earbuds in and put on an extra layer. I had a relaxing walk down and out of the halls and into the cafeteria. I decided upon that location because at night they flipped the chairs and tucked the tables away. I went into the mess hall and as I had expected there were smooth floors and plenty of open space. There was a low hum from the dishwasher and the school power-saving light bulbs created a gentle ambiance.

I laid down my backpack by the cart where they kept the giant condiment dispensers and as the song switched to some alt rock I started stretching my legs using the cart as a barre. I didn't realize but I stretched my whole body for an hour. I guess I didn't realize time was passing because I was taking time for myself. I felt good for the first time in over 3 months. After that, I glanced over at the tiny polyester bag and kicked my uggs off marching toward it.

I applied little silicon toe protectors and slid on my toe pads before finally squeezing my feet into the damned silk shoes. It felt overwhelmingly familiar, so when I tied my ribbons on and stood up I nearly cried. I took a step and fell right on my ass so I broke out the resin and stomped around and when I rolled en pointe again I felt a lot more stable.

I continued to dance until my muscles felt warm. Finally, I went back into my bag and fished out my music box. It was gorgeous and ornate. It was carved out of mahogany and had pewter hardware that had oxidized to a lovely charcoal shade. On the inside was an elegant porcelain sculpted ballerina with a mesh tutu. I cranked the small dial until the tinkling tune of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I went slowly and failed to keep up with the speed but the trick with music boxes is that they force you to never give up. You must complete the dance or the sound of failure will jingle away.

I let the box tinkle away as I force my body through repetitions of the steps. 1 2 3-1 2 3- 1 2 3! Up and back twist! Tuck your ribs (Y/n). BE more graceful make your fingertips look like flower petals. Point your goddamn toes! I kept repeating things my teachers had kept squawking at me. My technique was sloppy at best. Eventually, My legs hit the right amount of tired where we slipped into muscle memory. The mind and the body have a special connection and when they synch I call it 'the zone'.

The zone is a wonderful place to be. It's a place I wish to live in, a dimension enveloped within this one. But hidden within the crevices of chaos it lies. It's like traveling through a crowded dusty bazaar and you bypass all the piles of spices and the loud haggling. Then you find the section where women sell finely embroidered fabric and you're just walking through miles of silk that muffles all the sound. I felt like I was fuete-ing in the center of that stall. It's like dancing underwater but I don't need air and I'm weightless.

The tricky part of the zone is that when you get lost in it, you lose track of everyone else in the bazaar. The scariest part is when the busker stops playing music, and the hagglers key in for a sweet deal.

"Wow, you're incredible!" The mear shock sent me falling on my ass. At the entrance to the cafeteria was Xavier Thorpe. I have a handful of classes with him and word spread quickly in this tiny isolated drama breeding ground. I lay flat on the ground like a starfish panting like a dog that just got shot. "Oh shit!"

I didn't see him, but I heard him pad toward me his footsteps were anxious. He walked close to me and knelt down next to my ear. I watched his head come into view. His face was concerned, very concerned his eyebrows were drawn inwards and he looked breathless.

"Are you all right?" he reached for the hand resting on my stomach. His hands were warm and kind of sweaty and when I interlocked my fingers with him there was a dry patch on his thumb. His grip was strong and he nearly catapulted me forward when he pulled me up. "Did you hit your head?"

"No, I've fallen way harder than that. Uh, I've been rude, my name is (Y/n)-"

"(L/n). Yeah, We fenced together a few times and you totally destroyed me in our Pride and Prejudice debate. I guess I'm seeing how you got so agile, you're an incredible dancer." He helped me into a standing position and I walked us over to the condiments stand.

"Well that's just because you don't dance, honestly If you saw me months ago I could have really knocked a paintbrush out of your man bun." I stuck my face in his face like a toddler.

"Really? What happened in the recent months that you had a decline?"

I slumped against the wall "I got kicked out of my school for being 'gifted'" I held up facetious finger quotes and gave a wry chuckle.

"What! They kicked you out for being too good?"

"No, They kicked me out because I nearly killed the best dancer in my class."

"What? I require some explanation."

"Well, I'm going to need you to crank that dial 5 times" As I walked away I pointed at my music box "Oh, and if you break that, I'll get kicked out of this school too." He laughed at me and reached for the delicate wooden box. It looked so dainty and misplaced in his hands. I watched his muscled fingers grip the brass dial and crank it until the harmonious symphony played. It seemed like this time I was able to dive into the zone.

"I've always known I was gifted." I started the dance "I've been good at whatever I do. Seeing that talent my mom put me in ballet, and I picked it up instantly." I began a series of turns "I was always so good at acting like I fit in too. I come from a long line of pure bread normies, but my mom. My mom is different, she dated an outcast and had me out of wedlock. Which is inexcusable where we come from." I corrected my posture.

"I was led to believe that I was purebred, my mom's family was. I had been verbally assaulted by this girl- Brittany so many times. I was at the peak of my anger we were doing a mass audition I was going to be the sugar plum fairy! But that bitch kept stepping on my toes-literally. I guess my emotions triggered my powers-I made a force field so strong that when she hit it she dislocated her T-5 and tore her ACL. After they kicked me out I stopped dancing. I was having an identity crisis and I thought that if I danced I would use them and hurt someone." The song came toward its end and I started the final sequence.

"But, dancing, with you here, I feel completely calm, like I'm not going to hurt you." I landed right in front of his face and he latched his hands onto my hips for support.

"Woah. I wouldn't call that masterpiece sloppy. You looked beautiful."

"Thank you, mysterious gorgeous art boy. At least that's how you've been described to me."

"Mysterious and gorgeous? Are you aware that you're describing yourself?" Woah, no boy has ever talked to me like that before. How am I supposed to respond to that? I just giggled I didn't know what else I could say. I grabbed his elbows and caressed them.

"You know for a painter you sure do have a way with words." Smooth you saved it!

"Oh really? How about these words. Would you like to go on a date with me? Actually, let me try that one more time. I'm going to set up a romantic picnic in my art studio and play the movie Five Feet Apart at seven pm on Friday. Whether or not you join me is all up to you."

"Five Feet Apart? That is romantic but I don't want to be bawling my eyes out on my first date."

"That's why I'm going to watch Elf after."

"But it's not Christmas?"

"Who says you can't watch Christmas movies in march? you're dancing the Nutcracker."

"That's fair, I'll see you at 6:45."

[strangecreationchaos]

acotar 5 is gonna be a court of secret and beauty! secrets ! so many secrets!

koschai and his power ! and the small box that he kept ,what is inside it?

what is azriel's true story? what all are his power? how the true teller comes to his possession?

what is elain's power ? is she having visions after the war? how she is dealing with her visions? she used to share all her visions with the ic..why she is not telling anything after the war? why she is learning stealth from nuala and ceredwin? the cauldron gifted her! loved her! did it only gifted her the power of seer? or did it give her something more than that? why she gifted azriel earbuds? did she saw and know about gwyn's music and luring ?

if it was becoz of nesta and cassian..then why she gifted earbuds ? she could have given him something so that he couldn't smell the scent of their sex! and eat peacefully in the dinner table! she could have given him sleeping pills! why earbuds that cuts all kind of sounds?

what is gwyn's power? what was that power watching her when she cut the ribbon in perfect halves? was it the mother? the cauldron? or someone else? how come gwyn is the best warrior when it comes to practice and training yet she got injured and had to be dragged during the blood rite? why exactly azriel gifted her the necklace? while his intentions are to return it! what is her connection with the prayer time 7?

what is mor's power? what she is exactly doing outside the court? why she is absent through out the acosf? the king called her a mighty queen! but what exactly he noticed in her? is it just her fighting skills? or something else?

they all hide some big secrets behind their beautiful faces and smile..

[anmolsmsblog]

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[poorvikasmartgadgets]

Poorvika Diwali Sale 2024 with Sparkling Offers

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[acwolyf]

Turn Up The Sound This Navratri With The ACwO Festive Sale

Celebrate Navratri with ACwO: Festive Sale and Exclusive Tech Gifts

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[giftsmandi]

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[vasco-portable-translators]

Christmas Gifts for Parents & Others: Vasco Translator

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[athletic-hotties3]

SCOTT X YORK

Pt.2

Weeks went by since the night of Scott's dream and he started to doubt if what he experienced was real. The only evidence left was the silver arm bracer on his wrist. Some of his classmates asked about it when he showed up to school the next day but Scott told them he picked up an archery lesson and to get used to the feeling of it on he was instructed to wear it most of the time. One day while Scott was fiddling with it while writing a debate summary at his desk a nock came from the door of his dorm. Scott slowly got up, picking his earbuds out of his ears and walked to the door.

Swinging the door open Scott saw the hallway bursting with life. People walking up and down the hall to common rooms, friends sitting on the floor by the elevators and a white envelope tied with red silk ribbon to a small cardboard box addressed to him. Looking around, Scott bent down to pick up the package, his earbuds dangling from inside his shirt. As he stood up, package tucked away under his arm a football came flying down the hall.

"Look out!" Yelled Alex as he jogged down the hall after the ball. The football collided with Scott's chest nocking the wind out of him and sending him kneeling to the ground.

"Awwww fuck." Scott groaned. "Alex you need to be more careful.

Someone could of seriously gotten hurt." "Scott.

It's a football. I don't think anyone is dying here." Alex said chuckling picking up Scott's dropped package. "Woah who sent you this!! Seems fancy.

You got a secret admirer?" Alex questioned handing Scott the box. "I don't know who sent this. I was about to go inside to read the letter but instead I found out more about football." Scott joked standing back up on his feet. "Well. Once you figure that out try stopping by the Tri Phi house tonight. I heard the parties gonna be sick. I know that's not really your scene but you should come." Alex said poking at Scott's chest repeatedly. "Ill think about it." Scott said rolling his eyes. "See ya there!!!" Alex yelled grabbing the football from Scott's arms and running down the hall. "Remember the theme is devils and angels!" Scott stared after him and watched him speed down the hall before returning back to his dorm.

Setting the package and letter on his desk, Scott could see his gift better. The letter was sealed with a thick red wax. A pair of horns was stamped into the wax. Pealing off the wax with a knife Scott opened the letter and retrieved a piece of parchment paper similar to the one he signed in his dream. The paper was chard on the edges and smelled like smoke. My dearly beloved, did you think you could get rid of me that easily? By simply just waking up? Remember you signed a deal. One that cannot be broken. Continue to be a good boy and do as I say or else. See you tonight!

In your dreams, York.

Scott sat there shocked and scared. Was this all reality after all? His mind was full of question but the one he could solve immediately was what was in the box. Scott pulled at the silk ribbon and slid a knife along the taped edges of the box. In the box lied 3 items. One red mask that fit half way up his face with devil horns attached to the top and a deep red bow tie and finally a bright red butt plug.

The plug coiled in the box. Scott picked it up and examined it. One end had a large bulb and a tapered bottom to it connecting to a flat hexagon.

Stemming out of the flat hexagon was a long red tail with a pointed arrow tip. The tail was quite long and the rubber plug was thick and heavy in his hands. A note lay under the toy labeled: extra information. Scott pealed the note up from under the other items. The contents of this box should be worn tonight at all times and attendance to the Tri Phi party is mandatory. All items must be worn.

The plug is blessed with a hidden ability to camouflage the wearer to appear in clothing best suited for the event dictated by me. Scott dropped the letter in disbelief. The letter floated to the floor as Scott stood gazing out the window, jaw wide. With hesitation Scott started putting on one article of clothing after the other. First he put on the devil mask securing it to his head with the red ribbon that belonged to the box. As he tied it at the back of his head, his hair turned a jet black and his mouth grew sharp fangs. His eyes turned a deep red, golden specks floated in them. Scott reached up to feel his face. Running his fingers through his new hair and testing the sharpness of his teeth. Scott quickly in disbelief yanked the mask off of his head. His face in a flash transformed back to normal. His teeth dulled, his eyes returned back to their normal blue and his hair back to his normal sandy blond. He sighed heavily realizing that any effects would not be permanent and then proceeded to re-tie the mask onto his face. Scott then picked up the silk red bow tie. The tie snaked it's way around his neck, securing in the back. The tie sparkled and then faded into his skin. The tie portion disappeared and left a single unbroken red band of sink around his neck. Scott maneuvered over to the mirror and watched a red mesh shirt materialize on his body.

The top half being a dark red leather that stopped right above his nipples. The rest being a red mesh cropped at his waist. The shirt fit him perfectly.

Scott got the impression that the ribbon would be needed to be cut off the reverse any of the effects but he dared not to try it because of his lack of backup plan. Finally, he fiddled with the plug in his hand. With hesitation felt there texture of the rubber with his thumb and played with the tail.

Slowly making his way over to his bed he reached under the mattress and pulled out a bottle of lube.

Scott hadn't done anything before but bought a bottle just in case he may someone. Slowly squeezing the bottle onto the top of the plug, he spread it slowly around the bulb. The lube was smooth to the touch and made the surface of the rubber slick. Leaning over, ass up, on his bed Scott lined up the plug with his hole. Inching it slowly to his butt he contemplated seriously inserting the toy into him. Suddenly the cold lube and slick bulb made contact with his hole. Scott slowly moved the plug in a circular motion around his ass. Coating his ass hole with the lube. Slightly applying pressure he pushed the plug in. His asshole expanded a bit taking the head of the plug in. Scott let out a muffled moan, leaning into his bedspread. An current of ecstasy spread through this body as he kept pushing. The plug slid halfway in before Scott decided to take a break lifting his hand from the rubber and placing it flat on his sheets, whipping off extra lube on his fingers. The plug started to slip without pressure, rubbing the inside of his ass in a new direction.

"Fuuuuuuuuuccckkk." Scott moaned lowly. His eyes rolling back into his head. His dick hard up against his sheets.

Sliding between his skin and the cotton. The friction stimulated his head causing his tip to become wet with precum. The stained sheets stretched as Scott quickly moved to place a hand on the plug from preventing it moving further. The plug was pushed deeper and deeper into Scott's hole. Scott bucking and squirming in pleasure. His thick cock throbbed against his bed. With a final push the plug reached the tapered end and his hole shrunk over the small rubber piece. With a loud moan his eyes welled up and he bucked in his bed causing his throbbing cock to thrust into the air. Cum sprouting out of his cock's head in an arch landing in a line on his chest and face. Scott's legs shook in pleasure as one of his toes pulled on the plugs tail causing it to shift within him.

Another trail of cum flew through the air onto Scott's face. Splattering on his nose and lips.

Scott now covered in his own cum layed there in a daze.

The plug was fully inserted and covering his hole was a red rubber hexagon. Scott slowly crawled over to his mirror on the other side of the room.

He stood up gazing at his image in the reflection.

The plugs devil tail hung from his ass and reached the floor. The tip of the arrow at the end barely touching the ground. With a flash more clothed materialized. Red sneakers formed themselves to his feet magically tying their laces. His crotch was covered in tight red athletic short shorts. So tight that his thick, long, now flaccid cock could be seen bulging though his red jockstrap below. His tail fused with his body now sprouting from just above in ass on the small of his back. His skin slowly started to change color. Going from his skin tone to a medium red. Scott stood there, as the cum magically disappeared into thin air, looking at his outfit for the party tonight. He was going to have to do a hell of a lot of convincing to Alex that all of his body modifications were special effects. And with that he walked out of his room, heading off to the party.