#Unboxing website

[confidential-couture]

Unboxing Chanel Heart CC Logo Studs | Confidential Couture #shorts #prelovedluxury  Welcome to our channel where luxury meets style! In today's video, we're unboxing a timeless piece from Chanel – the Heart CC Logo Studs. If you're passionate about high-end fashion and exquisite craftsmanship, you're in for a treat! Join us as we unveil these stunning earrings, crafted with precision and adorned with Chanel's iconic heart-shaped CC logo. From the moment you lay eyes on them, you'll be captivated by their elegance and sophistication. In this unboxing, we'll explore every detail of these luxurious studs – from the lustrous finish to the intricate design. Whether you're a Chanel enthusiast or simply appreciate the finer things in life, these earrings are sure to elevate any ensemble with their undeniable charm. Stay tuned as we showcase how these exquisite studs effortlessly complement various styles, from casual chic to evening glamour. Get ready to indulge in the allure of Chanel as we unbox these Heart CC Logo Studs – a timeless accessory that exudes both luxury and refinement. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to stay updated on our latest luxury unboxings and fashion insights. Thank you for joining us on this journey of elegance and sophistication with Chanel!

[k-hotchoisan]

missing piece

<seonghwa x fem!Reader>

Building legos is important business and Seonghwa knows that very well when he realises he’s missing a piece.

So who would’ve thought two people attempting to search for one Lego piece would lead to other things?

genres/warnings: smut, pwp, softdom!seonghwa, missing Lego piece (don’t worry it’ll get found later), dirty talk, it’s legit teeth rotting fluff and smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, established relationship, mild choking, clit stimulation

a/n: another fic exchange with @bro-atz 😎👊🏻 it’s a competition of who can kill each other faster and we both LOSING. love u bro <3 and also finally serving you all the softdom! Seonghwa you all deserve 😛 enjoy my loves 🩷

read bro’s one here 💘

wc: 1.9K

‘A couple activity idea’—apparently the amount of countless generic couple websites would list this idea. 

Yeah, this would qualify for a couple activity idea casually, not when it seemed like a big business deal when it came to Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa had the ambiance set, his station ready—the Animal Crossing Soundtrack Playlist with Rain playing through the speakers, his desk clean and white—only stacked with the Animal Crossing Lego sets prepared to to be unboxed, in his favourite oversized shirt, and not forgetting you, who he dragged into his room to watch him build his little building block empire—comfortably seated across him on his bed. 

You didn’t mind watching your partner build the latest Animal Crossing Lego set he just easily blew a couple of hundred on hours before. You watched his inner child take form when he made you sit down with him to watch him unbox the first set he was gonna build, his eyes large and twinkling, just like his Animal Crossing character in-game.

Seonghwa hums softly, and it’s definitely his favourite soundtrack from the game. From time to time, Seonghwa would make the little critter noises his animal villagers would make while he fixes the animal villagers and you can’t help but giggle whenever he does the impressions. He’s finished a cherry tree, making sure he flailed his wrists to get your attention. Your lips pull to a smile when your eyes land on the pretty cherry tree he built, reflecting his satisfaction with his plump lips too. 

Then he’s back to his workstation, and you’re absorbed back into playing your switch. 

“This set is pretty easy”, you hear him comment. 

“Is it?” You reply, your attention focused on trying to slay the beast. 

“Yeah. I think I could finish this in another half an hour.” He sounds confident. 

“Good luck with that sweetheart”, you respond, your eyes trailing back to your game. 

Then midway through, Seonghwa demands your attention again, and this time you watch the way his eyes light up the whole damn room when he shows you the way the little Lego letter fits into its little Lego mailbox. Not gonna lie, it was a very adorable detail. He yaps about it for a good seven minutes before he sinks back into his building block world. 

“Now here’s the million dollar question—pink or brown for the door?” He asks, loosely fitting both coloured doors after one another 

“Pink, obviously”, you pick. Seonghwa seems satisfied with your answer, and you swear you see the little musical notes float out of him when he fixes the door onto the house. 

A couple more minutes later, you glance over at the messy pieces of Lego strewn all over Seonghwa’s table, below his half-completed Animal Crossing cottage. 

He has his cheeks puffed out, and his eyebrows knitted together while he’s carefully scanning over the table. 

“Are you missing a piece?” You ask, setting your console on the bed. 

“Yeah, I think I am”, Seonghwa mutters, his index finger pointing over each piece on the table, in hopes of finding it. 

You take the instruction booklet from his hands, skimming through the pictures before you settle it down onto the desk, your eyes laser-focused onto the mess too. 

“Do you wanna come over to my side instead? Maybe you can spot it better from this view”, you suggest, which Seonghwa takes, so he shuffles over to the bed, and moves to sit right where you are—and now you’re on his lap, with his chest pressing right against your back as he towers over you, arms hugging you from behind. He continues to search for the missing Lego piece. 

You take part in the search too, the game completely forgotten by then. You realise it’s nice just having Seonghwa sitting close to you like this. Maybe this was what they meant by building Lego as “a couple activity”.

“Did you drop it or something?” You ask, shifting slightly to have a better view of the floor. You hear Seonghwa grunt behind you, but you pay no attention, focusing on finding the piece. 

Seonghwa swears he’s focused on looking for the missing piece too—he really wants to complete the set, but at the same time, he’s watching and feeling you move against him on top of the way he’s able to wrap his arms around you easily, smelling his scent on you—it’s not helping his case. He bites his bottom lip, trying to manage himself. 

Obviously, it does nothing, considering he’s having you in such close proximity, and every movement you’re brushing against him is starting to make him grow sensitive. 

His hand snakes down to your thighs, drawing circles, his other hand sifting through the endless pieces of Lego. 

He forces himself to concentrate, and it works for a split second, that is, until you absentmindedly shift his free arm on under your loose shirt, and he snaps. 

“If this is your way of breaking my concentration, you’re doing a good job”, you hear his deep voice ringing in your ears. He’s letting his hands roam all over your body hidden underneath your shirt, his fingers grazing against your nipples teasingly, and it draws gasps out of you. 

“Focus on finding the block, Park Seonghwa”, you tease, readjusting yourself, making sure you press against his growing erection underneath his loose shorts. 

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to draw a shaky breath every time your clothed ass comes into contact with his erection.

You pretend to ignore him, but you can’t ignore the way he’s massaging your tits, and you find yourself sighing and growing hotter through each passing moment. 

You think he’s finally giving you a break, but you’re proven wrong when his hands are sliding down the waistband of your shorts. 

“You’re not finding the block, Angel”, Seonghwa points out, and you pout at his words. Your hand slips under the large opening of his shorts and fuck—his erection is only growing thicker. 

You hear him groan behind you when you let your hands wander to stroke his cock through his underwear. So he retaliates with his finger sliding past your panties, cursing when he realises your pussy is growing wetter by the second.  

“We’re supposed to be looking for the Lego piece, Hwa”, you mutter, mind growing hazy as his fingers get drenched from your slick, circling your clit gently. 

“Mmhm. We are, baby. You’re just not focusing”, Seonghwa replies, his index and middle finger spreading your folds open letting his index finger find your clit more easily, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. 

Your legs push open automatically, your hands pausing stroking him off, well, not that Seonghwa minded. 

“That feels so good”, you sigh. Seonghwa’s other hand cups your jaw, and you turn to face him, feeling the way his hands slide down your throat while Seonghwa has your lips on his, eating up your whines and moans before letting you catch your breath.

“So fuckin wet for me, Angel. You like it that much?” He teases. 

“Mmhm, your fingers feel so good Hwa”, you nod, your grip around his arm tightening as the pleasure builds in your stomach every time his finger strokes against your clit. At this point, you can’t even pretend.  

His lips are pressed against your ear, his voice deep yet you sense traces of whining in his tone when he says, “Sit on my dick. I need you on my fucking dick now, Angel.” 

Of course, you comply, despite your legs trembling slightly, letting Seonghwa slip out of his bottoms. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him, his lips making a whole garden of bites down your neck before he has both his hands lift your hips. 

Seonghwa lines himself against your fluttering cunt and he pushes himself into your pussy hole, his moans of relief sending you into a spiral on top of his cock sinking into you. 

Fuck, he’s filling you up so fucking good. 

“Fuck. That’s it, babe. You’re so fucking good”, he groans when you squeeze against him. 

“Hwa, oh my fucking god, you’re so full in me”, you sob, trying to adjust to his length. 

“Do you think we can find the piece better like this?” He jokes while peppering kisses down your neck to distract himself so he doesn’t fucking just burst in you just yet. 

Even in your pleasured haze, you still manage to laugh while you try to keep your eyes open. 

“I think we can”, you reply with a giggle, before squealing when you feel him twitch in you. You shift forward slightly, feeling his cock shift in you, dragging along your walls, a small whine escaping past your lips. 

With the last of your sanity remaining, you glance over the desk one more time, biting your lip to stay grounded, obviously to no avail, especially not with Seonghwa and his little movement behind you. 

“I really think it’s-fuck-not here”, Seonghwa mutters behind you, forcing himself not to thrust into you, his fingers slithering down to your wet clit once more. 

“I’m pretty sure it d-dropped. We haven’t checked the floor yet-ngh-right?” you manage to ask.

“Mmmm nope”, Seonghwa responds, mesmerised at the way your slick growing thicker on your clit and on his cock as he continues to rub your clit. “I guess we can do that later ‘cause I really need to fuck your pussy right now, Angel.” 

He doesn’t give you much time to answer because you’re a complete goner when Seonghwa is making you bounce off his cock while he gets you off with his fingers. 

You’re trembling from the sheer pleasure, your vision slowly growing hazy, the knot tightening in your abdomen more quickly than you thought. 

“H-Hwa! Gonna cum-Oh fuckkkk”, you draw out, white clouding your vision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, dopamine shooting up your body while you completely let go on his cock as Seonghwa fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum on my dick like that, Angel”, Seonghwa groans into your ear, his gaze traveling down at the way your thick cream streaks down his cock when he pulls out. He shuts his eyes, sighing into the nape of your neck while he listens to the way your cunt is just so loud and wet for him while he fucks your cream out of you, thrusting his hips upwards. 

“God, your pussy feels so fucking perfect. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good baby”, he pants before his hips thrust and press against yours, filling you up with his warm and thick cum accompanied by his low groans. 

You feel Seonghwa’s hands run down your body, soothing you after emptying his fucking load into you before he slowly pulls out of your cum-filled pussy. 

“I’ll get you a towel, Angel”, Seonghwa tells you, pressing his lips on your temple before leaving the bed. 

He retrieves a spare towel from the bathroom and cleans you up, before releasing you to wash up in the bathroom. 

When you renter his room, Seonghwa is switching gazes between his half-completed set and the instruction manual. 

He looks up at you with a grin that’s making you feel uneasy. 

“Babe, turns out I wasn’t missing a piece—I already had it in all along!”

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @woojirang @jjoongstar @yuyusgirl

[digitalshrutijain]

BUY OLD MOBILE PHONES

In the world we are living, technological advancements, innovation, and electronic devices are making our lives much easier than ever before. A few years back, mobile phones were taken as a part of luxury but now it’s being a necessity, but constant innovation in this industry raising the prices of mobile phones and everyone can't buy the new models. People need the mobile phones with different features but do not spend that much money on buying brand new mobile phones and here, the concept of refurbished mobile phones come that will not only act as an effective solution to your problems but also give you the optimum satisfaction. It is a mid way between the brand new phones and the used mobile phones. We will help you to know about several features of refurbished old mobile phones.

Features of Buying Old Mobile Phone

It combines the features of quality, cost effectiveness, and sustainability. You will get a quality product as per your budget.

While buying from an online marketplace, you will get the warranty and replacement policies on refurbished mobile phones.

While purchasing from an online store you will variety of products of different brands and models that help you in making an optimum choice.

Going for a refurbished mobile phone is also a good option from an Environmental point of view because this help in the reduction of electronic waste and after having proper inspection and restoration the product will get a second life and we can protect our environment by reusing the electronic devices.

If you want to buy a second hand phone you will need to search for the person who wants to sell his phone or you need to contact any person who deals in it. But in the context of refurbished old mobile phones, you will get 24×7 availability through an online marketplace.

Purchasing the brand new mobile phone or premium model is quite expensive but when you buy a refurbished old mobile phone you will get a premium product easily accessible and within a suitable price range.

Above these features can help you in deciding why to buy a refurbished old mobile phone and how effective and efficient product you will get. You will get a high quality mobile phone from a reputed brand within your budget and you will not have any questions related to its safety and security because they have properly inspected and restored it and then make it sold to the customers.

While deciding on purchasing an old refurbished mobile phone, you will have another relevant question that is Where to buy? This question is equally important as to why to buy the refurbished old mobile phone. While purchasing any electronic device the place of purchase is equally important because by that you will get the authenticity factor that will help you in trusting the seller.  In our point of view, going with the trend of the online marketplace will be a better option to go with. We will help you in making a confirmed choice by telling you the advantages of buying the mobile phone online.

Apart from the given features, we will discuss several Advantages of buying an old refurbished mobile phone online.

[dreamweavers]

got some RH dolls on sale w intentions of opening them closer to xmas but I couldn't resist opening these girls early. the storm twins, who I got at half price!

Naomi has a glitter smudge near one eye but I might be able to fix it. ik some ppl dislike Veronica's bubblegum but I think it makes her look super cute.

their hair is crunchy w gel so I have to wash it, but man these two are so pretty!

[tinytennisskirt]

Small Victories

Summary: based on a request, Stanford tennis player! reader and Art strike up a new friendship as they're both pretty lonely at Stanford. It's platonic and fun, but reader is taken out of the tennis season after a serious injury ruins her leg. Recovery is hard, but Art is there the entire way insisting you get back to tennis- and as you slowly heal, he slowly falls harder and harder. It becomes undeniable that you two belong together when you finally get back on the court and win your first game post-injury... when things left unsaid can't stay unsaid.

Warning: mentions of broken bones and blood. Mention of sex. Kissing. A little angst, and a tiny bit of miscommunication if you squint. Slowburn friends to lovers. A good amount of fluff and fun. 13k words- brace yourselves.

It was your first day at Stanford after spending your first night in your dorm room. You had some free time so you’d been spending it unboxing and putting away more of your clothes and things. You covered the ugly boring walls with simple patchwork tapestry, and carefully hung your star-shaped string lights. You set up your computer at the provided desk, moving it to the corner where it was level with the table you’d set up your microwave and kettle on. You made the bed, organized your rackets, and you would have never been this clean if you were at home, but you were a little too bored and you were racking up the nerve to go and speak to people. Meeting new people. 

It’s not like you were socially inept at all, but the anticipation was killer. Being so far away from everyone you knew, having this pressure to make friends here or being around wouldn’t be all that worthwhile. Yes, you loved tennis. Yes, you were so glad to be at Stanford. But could you enjoy it without any friends? No. When you decided your room was done, you logged onto your computer to look over the campus website to see if maybe there were any events tonight. 

You found a few as you scrolled. They had a painting class led by an instructor, not your thing. They had an acapella group info night, which could be fun, but you couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. You scrolled down to the sports section. Football team info night, lacrosse recruitment, and you saw it, perfectly dated for today at eight, a tennis mixer for all tennis students in the far corner garden on campus, just a ten-minute walk. You shut your computer off and immediately started going through your clothes.

You ended up in your favourite jeans and a light purple tank top, pairing it with some casual Converse you’d had for two years, a nice belt, some pretty earrings, and the most dainty necklace you had. You did your makeup in the mirror, getting your eyeliner right in one try which was an absolute wonder, and finished everything off with a pairing of blotted lipstick and lip balm. You looked over everything in the mirror, fixing the curl of your hair just a bit before you packed the simple things into a small bag and headed out the door. 

The garden was cute, it was a little corner boxed in with hedges, full of picnic tables and lawn chairs. You looked up and down the edges lined with pretty pink, orange, yellow, and purple flowers. The 90s music from a radio in the corner was fairly loud, but more dull than the conversation between who you assumed were your peers. A wave of excitement hit as you looked up and around these people, not exactly watching as you stepped backward, foot hitting the side of someone else’s and tripping just slightly in the same direction. Thank god you caught your balance, because without it you might have ended up on the person behind you’s lap. 

“You okay?” He asked, hands up, ready to catch if he needed. You turned, fixing yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment. This was an amazing start, you thought to yourself, chuckling nervously. His eyes were soft and genuine, and he was asking. 

“Oh, yeah, just not looking where I was walking,” You smiled. “I’m so sorry.” 

He smiled back, “No, you’re good, don’t worry about it. I sit with my feet too far out anyway.” He said, getting up out of the chair he was sitting in with his drink. You noted just how nice his voice sounded, you’d never heard anyone with his tone. “My name is Art… Donaldson.” He extended his free hand to you and you were a little surprised but glad. 

“Y/N,” You answered, unable to control the grin that came from meeting someone already, even if you nearly tripped into him. You eyed him up and down a moment. He was taller than you, thin, with blonde curls and a big smile. Bigger than one you would have gotten from anyone else you spoke to if you had ended up speaking to anyone else that night. “You’re in the tennis program?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” He grinned. “And you too, I assume.” 

“Mhm,” You nodded back. “First year. Nervous.” You admit, feeling like maybe he’d get it. And he did, no doubt. 

Art ruffled his hair, “Oh yeah. I’m on residency, so it’s not much different from my previous school, but I don’t know anyone, so it’s a little weird. I had to check the campus website for anything to do to get out and meet people.” He spoke a lot with his hands, you noted along with the fact you had done the exact same thing. He was also just speaking to speak, you noticed as you nodded along, smiling. He was nervous too. “Are you on residency?” He asked, ending his little spiel. You’d let him talk just to hear him talk, finding his voice unique and a little bit pretty. And he was nice. 

“I am, I spent the whole day organizing and decorating my room,” You chuckled, stepping aside to grab yourself a can of iced tea, and cracking it open. Art watched as you did, studying the dainty rings on your fingers, the way the one strand of hair fell in your face when you tripped and you hadn’t yet thought to move it. “Things are a lot harder to do without a staple gun.” You told him.

He sipped his own drink, “Mmm, right? Took me seven attempts to hang up my poster today with that stupid blue clay stuff.” 

“Oh, that stuff is nasty.” He liked how you crinkled your nose. “I bought this glue-brand double-sided tape. It’s a game-changer, but so sticky.” And the embarrassment from nearly tripping eased away as the conversation enhanced itself. He was sweet and funny and kind and truly seemed like he was hearing what you said. Art was truthfully just glad he found anyone to talk to after Patrick left last night and as the conversation moved over the regular small talk, he found he didn’t really want to talk to anyone else. 

The night went on and people were leaving now and then, but you and Art sat on the bench in the very corner of the corner garden unphased, just talking about your histories with tennis. Soon you knew all of his best victories and he knew yours and he also knew you liked music more than most things, tennis included, him making mental note of what songs to listen to when he went back to his dorm room. He felt a lot less alone in Patrick’s absence than he’d expected and you were so interesting. He also knew you were a big fan of iced coffee, had a lucky tennis racket, and had a love for star-shaped things. Just as you knew his best game was his doubles at the Junior US Open with his best friend who you’d heard a lot about now, just as you heard about his past at Mark Rebatello’s Tennis Academy, how his favourite thing to do in tennis is serve, and his favourite post-game meal is chicken wings. Your conversation naturally covered all the simple things and when the night truly had to come to an end, he gladly walked you back to your dorm. 

“It’s been really nice meeting you,” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as you approached your door. Part of him knew he could probably tell you everything and anything about himself and you’d listen and that’s what he liked about you. “Glad someone spoke to me.” 

“Well, I tripped, so we’re just lucky, I suppose.”

He twisted his mouth to the side, “I guess so, but who’s to say I didn’t do it on purpose?” He questioned with a teasing smile. 

You laughed quietly, “It’s been nice meeting you too. I’ll see you around the court?” 

“Probably,” He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets as you leaned against the door. “I look forward to it.” A grin slowly crept up his face, unable to hide itself. He was not in a particular lack, but gaining you was something he wouldn’t regret and he knew it. “I’ll see you around.” 

You couldn’t help but grin right back- his smile was so wide it was hard to ignore. “Goodnight, Art.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You saw him again the next day, more than enthused to see a familiar face around. You had your hair up in a ponytail, sporting a white skort and black tank top and he was in blue gym shorts and a sports t-shirt that was just a tad lighter than his shorts. 

“Hey you,” You smiled as you approached. He turned, more than happy to see you as well. 

“Hey,” he replied, setting his things down on the nearest bench. You beamed, doing the same. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, how are you?” You asked, hopping up and starting to stretch. He had his hands shoved in his pockets. “Co-op doubles today, you want to be my partner?” He asked. You were nodding yes before he even finished the sentence. 

It was that day that Art realized just how good you were at tennis and how distracting it was playing doubles when all he wanted to do was watch you play. It was almost hypnotizing to see you do your thing and he was honestly a little proud he’d made your acquaintance before you demolished the other team so he wouldn’t have had to look like a suck up approaching you afterward. 

You jumped and high fived him when you two won the scrimmage and Art knew he picked the perfect tennis partner for sure. As for you, he impressed you vastly past your expectations. He was amazing at serving so no wonder it was his favourite. 

“That was crazy,” Art huffed, breathing out. “That was amazing.” 

“Your serves are crazy,” you gushed, turning to him. “You’re amazing, that was amazing that serve at the end completely threw them.” 

Art shook his head, “As if you didn’t completely end the game with that last swing, that was incredible.” He gestured openly, then let his arms fall to his sides. “You want to go again?” 

Technically you were supposed to switch partners, but Art just didn’t want to take that chance. He had you as a partner and he would have to swap it out? No thanks. 

Your smile turned itself into a smirk, you had other thoughts. “Maybe after.” You said and jogged over to the boy you’d just gone up against and asked him to play with you and Art knew what you were doing. You wanted to play against him. 

It turned out to be a problem because now Art had a full view of how you played and it really was hypnotic. You obviously had a well-learned method for every swing and situation and you knew exactly what was in your section and what was in your partner’s. Art was grinning, watching you play and honestly hardly paying much attention to the fact that he himself was in the game. He missed a few balls just because he was watching your swing. You were good, you were really good, and that fact being distracting was not very useful to a scrimmage. 

When the game ended and you had a bit of a water break, you jogged over, “What was that?” You laughed. 

Art shrugged, chuckling. “You’re really good.” He took a long drink from his water bottle, knowing the reason he gave you wasn’t very detailed but it was honest. 

You and Art were partners for most co-op doubles that week, hanging out almost every day after or before. You two were fast friends- him enjoying how passionate you were when you talked and shared the things you liked and the way you went about tennis, you enjoying having a great partner for scrimmages and the things he talked about. Having a familiar face around all the time was the ease you needed to fully get yourself situated at Stanford. It was fun to have someone that you wanted to see every day who happened to want to see you just the same. You two were friends quicker than anyone you’d ever known, like something just clicked and fit into place- he was fun and a little bit wild when he wasn’t shy, and he loved music just as much as you did, it turned out, which was surprising. 

You’d sit in his car for hours just talking with music in the background. “Okay, so McDonalds fries versus Arby’s.” You said, picking through the McDonald’s fries you two bought on the way back to campus. Art put the car in park and you were leaned against the car door, sitting facing him. “Don’t say Arby’s, I’m begging you.” 

He smiled and shrugged a little sheepishly, “They’re thicker.” He reasoned. 

“Uh-huh, I see how it is,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. He hid his face in his hands. “McDonald's are so classic.” 

He raised his head, “True-“ he spoke with too many in his mouth and you smiled. “- But Arby’s are curly. Which means more.” 

“Okay so you’re settled on the fact that it’s more food,” you laughed, popping a small one in your mouth. “Here I was going off of taste.” 

“You can’t go off taste alone because quality is so important,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “McDonalds fries are good but the quality is shit.” 

“You’re right but you can ignore that-“ 

“I have to ignore that while you ignore thicket and curlier?” He laughed. “No-“ he couldn’t get through his words laughing, “We are done here.” 

“What-“ you laughed. “No, come on.” 

He gestured wide, hand on your upper arm, sliding down to rest on your forearm, “You’ve just proven you can’t debate, it’s pointless-“ he couldn’t stop laughing, and from that point on neither could you. It was contagious and spread throughout the car like the air conditioning that circulated. It was good laughter, sweet, and unending because whenever one of you tried to stop, even looking at the other would cause you both to burst out laughing again. It was a cycle that made your ribs ache, your heart beat harder in your chest and your breath impossible to catch. The laughter only ended when you were both in too much pain to continue. 

Art rubbed his eyes, leaning against the car's center console, catching his breath. He missed Patrick but not so much when you were around. He was glad he had you and that was one of the only thoughts in his head as he looked at you, catching your breath as well. Your smile was gorgeous was the afterthought but there was no afterthought to that thought itself, just that you were and it was. You moved your hair from your face and he thought again about the fry conversation and he nearly laughed again, but he tried hard not to.

The truth was Art did have thoughts like that often. You saw him every day, you were funny and talented, and Art loved how much you cared about everyone around you. How could he not, even for a moment, think more of you than what you two were? But he didn’t notice how often he had those thoughts because they were forgotten so easily, buried under something subconsciously. 

You looked back at him, the atmosphere shifting once again. Art watched you glance at the time, “I have to get to bed, I’m so sorry,” He loved how you apologized for nothing. He’d tried to correct it at first but it was just something you couldn’t help. “I have that game tomorrow, the one I’ve been talking about, are you coming?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” he grinned, pulling the car back into drive to bring you closer to your residency building so you wouldn’t have to walk. “Starts at ten?” 

“I have to be there at ten, game at eleven.” You nodded. 

“Sounds good,” He nodded back, a slight smile pulling at his lip. “I’ll see you there.”

“I guess you will. Or might. I need you there in case I need to make a run for it, I’m terrified to play that Roxy girl, she’s supposed to be so hardcore.” You pressed your hands to your face. “Thank you for hanging out, for a moment I forgot just how scared I am of tomorrow.” Your smile turned to a grin and Art’s followed. He was unable to control his smile around you. 

He shook his head, “You’ll be great. You’ll kick her ass.” 

“She’s Russian,” you replied. “She’s going to do more than kick mine.” 

Art shook his head again, “No. Can’t think that way or else she will for sure. You kick hers, no other way.”

You took a deep breath, grin dulling back to a simple smile. “Thank you. I’ll need all the luck I can get though,” You opened his car door to get out. 

“Okay, well, good luck if I don’t see you before the game, leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, break a leg, etcetera.” 

You laughed and after saying goodnight, your laugh still echoed around his head. It did so until he went to sleep that night. But he didn’t think anything of it, there was no reason to. 

The game the next day really did terrify you. This girl you were up against was hardcore, you spent the morning watching her games trying to figure her out but all you got was that she stepped twice before swinging left, no matter what as well as she was an amazing player. She had long sleek blonde hair that she tied up in a braided ponytail and icy eyes that seemed to stare into your soul when you saw her tennis poster. You wondered if her eyes followed you around as you got dressed into your pink skort and lilac purple tank top combo. Looking nice on the court helped a lot with your confidence.

You tied your hair up in two French braids to keep it away from your face and tried to take deep breaths as you grabbed your things and headed over to the Stanford court. It was a busy day, apparently, as a small crowd of people were waiting to get into the benches and you walked by them and into the building where you met your coach. 

“You ready?” She asked and you really wanted to say no, the nerves getting to your stomach. The first big game of the season meant something. This is the beginning of what you were working for. Part of you was so ready for this all to begin, other casual games with small audiences were easy, but there was a Russian girl out there ready to demolish you. You took another deep breath. 

“Yeah.” And you took your things to the court and unzipped your bag that you’d packed in a haste this morning out of pure nerves and no real rush to see that somehow, in some extreme mishap, that your lucky racket wasn’t there. You turned to your coach, who knew that when you laid all your rackets out on the sidelines that you were missing the lucky one. 

And Art in the stands looked over, knowing the exact same thing. He turned to Patrick, who was visiting as of this morning, “She doesn’t have her purple racket.” He said as if Patrick knew what that meant. Art had spent the morning filling Patrick in on who you were and Patrick listened with a knowing smirk, but didn’t say anything about what he truly thought. “Patrick, she can’t play this without her lucky racket.” He urged as if it made a difference. The game was set to start in five minutes. 

“Lucky racket?” Patrick understood. When he was younger he himself had the same thing, he knew the sentiment and the effect it could have on a game. That’s why Art, knowing Patrick, knew you were the same way.

“Fuck,” Art said, looking around to see if there was a clear path out of the bleachers, but there wasn’t. He looked back at you, talking to your coach with your hand over your mouth. He got up and stepped over a few people but was stopped by an usher. 

“Game is starting in five-“ the burly man said. 

“I know, I need to get out,” he urged. 

“Sit. Down. Please.” The usher replied. 

Art shook his head, “No, you don’t understand, this is vital to the game about to be played, that’s my friend out there-“ 

“Sir, if you leave before the first half, you won’t be getting back in.” He said. And that was that. Art couldn’t even make a run for it because this usher would make sure he couldn’t get the racket back to you. 

“Fuck,” Art muttered, having to sit back next to Patrick knowing this wouldn’t be good. It put him on edge from the stands he couldn’t imagine the anxiety you were feeling if it was already bad and you didn’t have your racket. He rubbed his face, looking at Patrick, who knew exactly what you were feeling even not knowing you yet. “This is bad.” 

You had to use your practice racket. Which was fine if you were anyone else, it worked just the same, but the feeling of confidence was hard to attain. You hit the court as the announcer called out you were to serve. You took what felt like the deepest breath, filling your lungs as you faced your blindingly blonde opponent. You let the breath go slowly, trying to convince yourself that this was fine. And you served. 

The rally was good, you both had each other moving, but she was up in points within the first ten minutes. You weren’t doing badly, you were just behind. Art and Patrick were watching from the stands at how intense things were, Art worried the entire time. 

You caught up and surpassed her points around the middle, but soon enough she bounced right back surpassing you again. You were getting increasingly more scared that this was exactly what you expected from a game without the purple racket. You took a deep breath and hit the ball as hard as you could upon serve, it going awkwardly sideways and immediately out. You tried not to swear too loudly. Art and Patrick did it for you in unison, Patrick was just as invested as Art. 

When they called the halfway point, you were below her points-wise. Art couldn’t pay less attention to the way you walked off the court with your hand to your head because he was running, or trying to, through the sea of people who were going for washroom breaks and getting food from the stands outside. He tried to push through but more people kept coming and the stress of it alone had his heart beating. That was nothing on the beat of his heart as he finally pushed through and he started sprinting across the campus grounds trying to get to your residency as fast as he could. 

He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life but this was the only way he knew how to help. This was how you would save your game. He ran through the residency doors and up the stairs to the second floor and grabbed your key from behind the fire alarm trigger, unlocking your door. He knew you wouldn’t mind after this- he looked around seeing the racket leaning in the corner and he grabbed it, locking your door again and jumping the stairs, sprinting back. 

It took a lot longer than he thought. He tried a shortcut that was stupidly a dead end and he checked his watch before launching back into his sprint and he had two minutes before you were back on. He was so fucked. This time he just about shoved people as he returned to the crowd. 

He could hear the game resume and people did hurry to get back to their seats which helped a little- Art was still pushing to make it back to you, to get the racket to you before the second half truly started. He knew if he just got it out there onto the court you could switch it out between serves and that would be good enough and he was nearly through the crowd, cheers in his ears, people whooping and yelling, getting into the game and all of a sudden it was a simultaneous gasp. Art was confused for about a split second before he heard the scream in the silence of a crowd that held their breath. 

Art pushed through the crowd and the sight he saw when he laid eyes on you on the ground was something reminiscent of some horror movie. The detail was too much but visible to him, from far away, was bone. And you were screaming, it was you. 

He bolted over but not before the others did, surrounding you immediately locking him out and he looked over as your tennis partner ran to the edge of the court to vomit. The crowd was mumbling but other than that it was silence versus screams and cries and it was you. Art hated that it was you. 

He couldn’t do anything, he wasn’t any help, 911 was already called and you were crying and screaming, and thank god the huddle shielded the crowd from the blood that pooled on the court. 

Art did the only thing he knew to do and that was collect your things. It didn’t matter what it looked like he was doing, he packed up your rackets and your water bottle, numbing himself to the situation so he could at least do this for you as your screams rang out in the crowd of people still seeming to hold their breaths. He couldn’t get to you if he tried. Sirens in the distance meant it was time to get the fuck out of the way and he moved over as the paramedics worked quickly to tend to you to get you on the ambulance, doing what they could to stop the bleeding. 

Art ran faster than he did to get your racket, even with your rackets on him. It was a good thing Patrick had gotten himself out of the crowd, meeting Art at the fence doors to get him to his car. He’d only known you a month or two, but you were still a person he cared a lot about and he knew your entire family was miles and miles away. You’d be alone in this and knowing you, and talking to you every day, he knew you were afraid of doctors and hated hospitals more than anything. He couldn’t let it be something you had to brave alone.  He threw your rackets in the trunk as Patrick got into the passenger seat and Art tossed him the keys to start the car before he got into the driver's seat. 

“Fuck, this is so bad,” Art said, pulling away a little faster than he should have. “This is so bad.” 

He ended up waiting ten hours at the hospital. You needed surgery to fix your leg and nobody in your family could make it over in ten hours. It would take a flight to get to you. Patrick stayed about four hours with Art, trying to keep him occupied so he didn’t lose his mind in the waiting room, but Art wasn’t very talkative, just worried. You had easily become one of his best friends. 

He ate hospital food and he slept in his chair against the wall. The nurses knew he was there for you and came to update him until one of the nurses told him to come back the next morning because by then you’d probably be stable and awake properly without the pain meds keeping you asleep. He hated that, he slept in his car.

Patrick came back the next morning, tapping on Art’s window at close to 11:30 in the morning. Art woke with a bit of a start, his hair messed up, his clothes from the days before still on. Patrick held up a bag from Art’s dorm room where he’d stay. You wouldn’t think Patrick to think of something like it, but he brought Art a change of clothes which he took gratefully and changed into in the hospital bathroom before going back up to see you. 

Patrick gladly waited in the hallway when he went in. You were awake but you were staring blankly at a wall- it didn’t seem like you even realized he had entered. You’d gotten used to not minding the nurses and doctors that came in and out. Art approached slowly out of understanding and observed how hard you crying so silently. He thought he saw a tear but as he observed, it was a steady stream.

“Hey…” he said quietly. 

You turned your head at the sound of his voice and Art swore when you met his eyes he had never seen eyes sadder than yours. It shook him a little to see pain so obvious in someone’s eyes. “Art-“ you sobbed, putting your head in your hands, unable to say anything else. He rushed forward, dropping his backpack at your bedside to give some sense of comfort. He didn’t know what to do, so he crouched next to you and his hands rested on your forearm, careful not to touch the bruising no doubt from the fall. He didn’t say anything else for a long while and neither did you, you just cried as Art crouched next to you, his hands gently grazing over your skin where they could. Soft, back and forth, just delicately. 

It was the first act anyone had ever taken to make you feel okay, truly okay. You’d been intimidated and overwhelmed by the hospital lights, the sterile metals, and sounds and processes. 

It was also the first true act of many that was something closer than what it should have been for you and Art. It was just you and him in that hospital room, empty aside from the machines, drips, a bed, and chairs, but the silence was so full that it occupied every corner that wasn’t already taken. 

You did eventually speak, but that silence was so needed. It was a conversation about what had happened and you explained it all and how it felt, but Art informed you that you were ahead of her in points before it happened. He didn’t tell you he didn’t see it happen- he didn’t tell you anything about where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game. 

Art slept in the corner chair later that night when you slept. Patrick eventually left after waiting for so long. When you needed your privacy Art got his meals from downstairs, heading back to the dorm and coming back the next morning every day for two weeks. He came by whenever he could to see you, the conversation was good and kept you distracted. You talked about everything and nothing just to pass the time in your lonely, empty room. Art brought you your iPod and a few other things from your dorm to keep you occupied when he wasn’t there.

Art was the greatest comfort until your parents finally got on a plane and flew out to see you, urging to somehow get you home but you didn’t want to go. You couldn’t anyway, and you were so glad. Your mom was surprised by the flowers you’d received from the Russian girl from the big game, who did come to visit you and was surprisingly very sweet, unlike her teeth-bared photo from her Facebook. But other than that, Art visited almost every day right after your parents did. They stayed at a nearby hotel as you were in the hospital recovering. 

Patrick stayed nearby for Art who was fine, other than a little busy most days when he went to visit. Today Patrick came in with Art. 

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting up just a bit when the two boys came in with McDonald’s. “Oh my god, you didn’t.” 

“But we did,” Art said, kicking your tray over to your bed and putting the food down on it. “Patrick’s idea actually, which I hate- but he wanted to get Arby’s and I told him no.” 

You smiled at him slyly, knowingly, but your attention turned to Patrick. “Hey! I’ve heard so much about you, this is crazy. I heard you were at the game.”

He grinned and you noted the dimple he had when he smiled. It was nice. “Yeah. Aside from the whole bone-out-the-leg thing, you were pretty good. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to your leg. You were fun, Patrick knew Art liked you but it was finally coming to be something clear in his mind as to why. You had high spirits. But both boys had no idea how hard you sobbed the moment they left. “Thank you for bringing me food, hospital soup and chicken are somehow both dry.” You said, opening the bag. 

Art looked at Patrick for some sort of approval which he got with a look Patrick exchanged. “You’re welcome,” Art spun on his heel. He looked at the way your hair fell over your face as you peeked in, how pretty it looked the way it curved inward to frame your face. The hospital had hindered your will to do your makeup but you still somehow looked just as gorgeous, if not more. His fleeting thought lingered this time as he gathered the right words to say. “So how is your leg feeling today?” 

“Fucked,” you replied, handing the boys their fries and burgers. “Hurts like hell and I’m still on the super strong stuff.” 

“Well you couldn’t tell,” Patrick said, pulling up a chair. 

“I think if I asked, they’d give me the good stuff.” You nodded. “But it makes me so tired, it’s awful.” You bit into your burger. 

Art pulled a chair closer to you and sat in it, “So all this was just for some drugs, hm?” He teased. “And attention.” 

“Oh yeah,” You agreed with a laugh between bites. Patrick chuckled and Art grinned, “All I had to do was fuck up my knee, have a surgery and a half, and ruin my tennis career.” Both boy’s smiles fell almost immediately, watching your tongue press to your cheek. The silence was loud, but you just continued eating. Art opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to mind. It could be true, you could very well never play tennis again, or with proper rehabilitation, you could be back to playing eventually. He didn’t know, he didn’t know what to say. You sighed, your voice monotone, “It’s fine. Most people who can’t play anymore start coaching. I just have to get better at teaching it.” 

“No, you can’t just say you’re going to coach, you still have so much work to do. You could get back into it when you get better,” Art said, hating how willing you were to succumb to just… teaching. “You’re only starting.” 

“True,” Patrick said, agreeing. “Would be badass if you got back on the court.” 

You twisted your mouth to the side, not finding it very easy to even speak on the topic, even if you brought it up yourself. You didn’t want to cry, not right now, you usually waited until you knew Art was down the hall so you had a minute to cry before the nurses came to check on you. “I don’t know…” 

Art looked at you with an expression that bordered on unkind- not toward you, but toward what you were saying. He’d played tennis with you- you were amazing and to not even believe that it could even get better was almost disgusting to him. You had so much potential, so much talent, “You do know.” He insisted. “There’s no way you want this to be career-ending, so don’t let it.”  

Patrick, despite the seriousness of the situation, smiled watching Art all passionate about something. It had been a while since he’d seen Art so riled up about something even if it didn’t affect him directly. Patrick smiled because he was seeing something he knew Art himself didn’t see. He leaned against his hand propped up by the arm of the chair. And you knew Art was right, but not enough to see past the cast on your leg, not enough to see past the months of rehab, not enough to see the court again. As much as you wanted it, it wasn’t in the foreseeable future, so you let it feel impossible. 

Your parents went back home a month or so in with the promise of returning, but it was getting expensive to stay, so they’d go return to their jobs. It was back to being Art and now recently, Patrick, whom you’d grown to be quite fond of. He brought out a side to Art that was not funnier, per se, but broadened his means to be. Patrick sometimes came to see you when Art had class so he wasn’t just sitting around Art’s dorm. Art would swing by after to join the card games and be told to be quiet by the nurses. It always ended up with you laughing so hard your ribs hurt more than your knee, even for a second. It was the only pain that was welcome in the hospital room. 

It was evening and you were sitting on your hospital bed, just thinking over everything. It wasn’t rare for you to cry at random periods throughout the day, it was a little too normal, if you were honest. All of this was so hard- continuing school from a hospital room because of all the risks was awful. But tomorrow you’d be seeing a physical therapist and that would decide if you were ready for rehabilitation. You wiped your eyes from the tears that fell just thinking about whether or not you’d be fit to walk on your leg again, which would determine if you could run if you could play. 

That’s when Art knocked on the door. He poked his head, looking around, but ultimately looking at you. You had the lamps that your parents had purchased for the room to be less overwhelmingly white in the top right and bottom left corners of the room, making for dim, comfortable lighting. Art swore he forgot how to greet you when his eyes met your tear-filled ones. The way your eyelashes looked when wet was almost hypnotizing, something that wiped all of the words from his vocabulary and out of sight almost completely. “Um-” He cleared his throat, “Hi,” He started, a weird pit in his throat. “You okay?” 

“Not sure,” You confessed, wiping your tears off your cheeks. He had seen you cry too many times now, it was getting a little embarrassing. “How are you?” Art smiled just a little at the fact you asked while crying. He hated to answer that question when you were upset. 

He pulled up his regular chair, but oddly it didn’t feel close enough. The feeling of it had been creeping up with every one of his visits, every time you were alone. But it got pushed aside. “I’m fine. Class was boring and tennis sucks without you, as usual.” He said, taking a seat. “The girl I’m paired with keeps hitting on me between rounds.” 

You wiped more tears away, smiling just a little though your stomach felt just a little odd at the mention, “Really?” 

“It’s bad.” He laughed, “She twirls her hair and everything.” 

“And that didn’t immediately work on you?” You fake-gasped. Art was just glad you were smiling. “You didn’t get married on the spot?” 

He chuckled, looking at his hands, “I don’t think it’s so easy. I don’t think I even know her name.” 

“You don’t know Melanie?” 

“Is that her name?” 

“No idea,” You laughed, really laughed, and it was a gorgeous sound. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m mostly bedridden and confined to this room.” 

He covered his face, rubbing his eyes, “That’s enough.” He groaned through a laugh, leaning against his hand, just looking at you. 

“I say it’s hardly anything, imagine how fun I could be if I wasn’t broken,” You huffed. “But Melanie, whatever her name is, she’s like… she’s really pretty.” You noted. ‘Melanie’ had all your opposite features, it should be noted. She was pretty just the same, but she was your opposite. 

“Mmm, not my type,” Art replied, scooting his chair just a little closer to the edge of your bed. 

“So you have a type? What, Kat Zimmerman-like?” 

Art groaned again, “I can’t believe Patrick told you that, that’s insane that you’d bring that up right now, I hate that.” He stressed the important syllables and covered his face again. You giggled, unable to keep it in. “No, not Kat Zimmerman, jesus christ.” 

“So then what’s your type?” You asked, just curious. You weren’t sure what drove you to curiosity but you didn’t question it. 

He shook his head, “I don’t think I have one. I know who I’m not into though and she’s exactly that.” Art said. Once again, to be noticed, the opposite of you was not his type. “She’s nice but we don’t talk much aside from when she compliments my playing and my hair and my arms and… all that.” 

You felt a little twinge. It was so awful to be on the inside while life went on outside, you thought to yourself. That was only half the twinge and the only half of the twinge you could understand. The other half was something close to jealousy that went completely unnoticed, but not unfelt. “She does that?” You struggled to sound genuine and that was the only thing you questioned about any of it. 

“Yeah, I hate it. What about you? You have a type?” 

You thought for a second, “I’m the same, I think. I know sports guys… jocks- are not it.” And Art nodded. Something about it felt weird to hear. He qualified as a sports guy, right? He tried to shrug it off, but he internalized it.

The night went on and you talked about things you hadn’t before and it was all romantic context. Past relationships, elementary school crushes. It was something that was needed out in the open and it made for an occupying conversation though it was a little hard to get through when there were constant little fleeting thoughts in Art’s mind that were thoughts about how jealous he was of these boys who had gotten to kiss you, touch you, and have your romantic attention. However, the thoughts were so fleeting they flew by without being read or registered, but they were there even unnoticed. You were his best friend and nothing more and that was that. 

When the doctors okayed you for rehabilitation you were so overjoyed you cried again. It was okay this time, it felt good to cry. All of these months in pain could be undone if you could just get into this and succeed. There was no guarantee it would work, there wouldn’t be at any point a guarantee and you knew that it would be a long, frustrating process, but it felt like it would be worth it. You remembered what Art told you about not wanting that career path to end and not letting this be the end of anything. This injury, in the long run, would not be able to take you from what you loved. Ever. Because you wouldn’t let it. You called to tell Art and you could hear Patrick whoop and cheer in the background. And you had your first session in your hospital room later that week and the now-wilting flowers Art and Patrick had brought you was amazing for motivation. 

Your healing journey was up and down as expected but no matter if you could finish your session or not, Art came by to tell you how great you were doing and Patrick to reassure you that you were a badass. You even let them stay for a session and the physiotherapist told them to ‘shut up’ because they were cheering for you the second you started. You just laughed. 

Patrick, for amusement, liked to sit back when you and Art were talking. He was no master, he was not a very scientific guy but your body language when engaging with each other was crazy obvious. You’d always sit super close no matter what, you leaned toward each other when you laughed, your eye contact was completely loaded with unsaid words and when you spoke it was 89% flirting. Patrick understood Art- you were gorgeous and you were strong and that itself was hot. You were funny and took jabs but you were honestly one of the most caring people Patrick had ever met. So yeah, he understood why Art liked you so much. 

You got better every day, easing onto your crutches at this point, able to somewhat move on your own. Patrick visited that day and he had his intentions. “You heard about that girl who won’t stop hitting on Art between games?” He chuckled, dealing the cards for crazy eights. He watched for your reaction. 

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Mmm, he mentioned.” You said, picking up your cards. “She’s still at it?” 

“Worse,” Patrick said. “Asked him out yesterday.” 

You looked up at Patrick with telling eyes and Patrick could have gone off of that alone, but he didn’t yet. He noticed your hands bending the edge of a card as you thought it over. The idea of him and that girl was something you could easily envision. He’d been her partner for over a year now and he had to know her name, they had to have been talking for her to just ask him out. Your jealousy was a fleeting thought that did burn close to the surface. “What did he say?” 

“He said he’d think about it,” Patrick said, eyeing your response to that one. It wasn’t true, Art had turned her down at least twice now. The girl was pretty, but oddly persistent.

“Hm,” You nodded, putting down three cards right off the bat. “He said she wasn’t his type.” 

Patrick shrugged, playing his card, “He’s pretty diverse I think. Me personally-” He placed a hand on his chest, “- Dark hair, dark eyes. I’m not limiting myself to it, but I think I have a type.” 

“That’s very you, I feel,” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Are you an ass guy too?” 

“Oh yeah,” He grinned a wide grin. You just smiled and shook your head at him. “What about you? You have a type?” He asked, trying not to make it obvious he was playing wingman here. 

You picked up a card, “I don’t think so. Maybe tall, not too much muscle but not like bone-breaking thin.” You said. “And a good amount of hair. I can’t imagine being with someone with a buzzcut. I don’t know, I don’t think much about who I could want, more of what I don’t want.” 

Patrick pretended like that body criteria wasn’t exactly Art. He smiled just a little, “And what’s that?” 

“Okay, easy. No mommy issues,” You put down another card, “No weird patchy facial hair, nobody who doesn’t know the difference between too, two, and to, and no guys in sports.” 

Patrick leaned in just a bit. “No guys in sports? You don’t date guys who play sports?” He clarified, a little bit of hope slipping out the window for his wingman act. All of everything could be wrong, could be pointless. 

You shook your head, “I say that but I mean football, mostly. Jocks. I had a bad experience with two different football players. Broke my little heart,” You chuckled. “I’ve ruled out jocks.” 

“But you’d date a guy in t-” he almost said tennis. He wouldn’t have been a good wingman to give away something like that. “You’d date a guy who plays something else?” 

“If he’s normal about it,” You nodded. “I can’t be outloved by a sport. My ex, I swear he’d fuck a football if it had a hole.” You placed down two more cards, “Last card.” 

The game finished with your win and Patrick was fairly satisfied with his work, though he intended to ask you a few more things and was cut short from his recon when Art swung in the room with a can of iced tea for you and Coca-Cola for him and Patrick. “How are you?” You asked him, taking the iced tea gratefully. 

“I’m good, you?” Art sat at the end of your bed by your feet, putting a hand on your shin (on your good leg) just casually. Patrick noticed it, but it didn’t seem to phase you. He’d seen it the other day when you rested your head on Art’s shoulder, he’d seen it when Art moved your hair over your ear as you were reading a magazine they’d brought. It was painful how obvious this was- he didn’t have to ask anything else. He almost laughed out loud as he thought about it. He made a mental note to talk to Art about it. 

He went back to the dorm early that day, leaving just you and Art. “Hm,” You hummed, pulling your hair to one side. Art snapped out of the trance he was in, hoping you hadn’t noticed that he was staring. It was something about the way you looked in purple, it was like it made your skin glow. That and your eyelashes as they fluttered when you looked around the room, that and the way your lower lip rested between your teeth as you checked over your textbook quickly making sure you were done with your schoolwork for the day. Art blinked all the thoughts away, but they clung on to your square-necklined purple t-shirt. Something about the way you looked in purple. 

Art rubbed the back of his neck, taking his eyes off of you, but looking back a moment later. Your lip between your teeth had his full attention, his own lips parting just a little at the sight. And then there was your hair draping over your face now and Art wanted so badly to move it like he had before. At this thought, as it crossed his mind it stopped dead centre in his brain. Like a shift, but a shift from his own burying and blatant ignorance of any feelings to being completely in the know. You were here, and you were perfect and you weren’t even doing anything, and Art knew he liked you as more than a friend at that very moment. 

But that was the issue. He was supposed to be your friend. 

And that troubled him the next week or so. He was fine seeing you, being one of your close friends wasn’t an act, it was true to him with the addition that maybe he liked you but he always told himself ‘just a little bit’, he liked you a little. If it was full blown then it would be a crisis and the truth was that it was absolutely and completely full blown and there was nothing he could say to himself that would change that. He thought about you when he wasn’t with you, when he woke up, and when he went to bed. He thought about you when he saw something you liked, he thought about you in every spare moment he could get. It was so bad he couldn’t even tell Patrick- as if Patrick didn’t know and constantly teased him about it. 

You were getting better and better and it was a surprising recovery, doctors said. Your mobility was far ahead of schedule and set to stay that way. Any setbacks from this point would be minor and you were making progress almost miraculously. And you were so glad to hear it every time they’d say it. Your parents came back around the day you took a real step alone and you wouldn’t forget your mom’s shriek of complete happiness. Your knee would work again. 

Just Art brought you flowers that day, not him and Patrick. 

But things stayed the same. You could leave and come back in for therapy and you were more than glad to be out of the hospital, though you’d gotten a bit used to it. Everything was falling into place, Art was there pretty much every step -literal and physical- of the way. He was amazing support and made things feel so much easier. When Patrick came around it was fun to have two people who’d add into the motivation. You got better and better and soon enough you swore you could walk just fine aside from your slight limp. That day you walked across the room when Art turned his back, he was surprised, to say the least.

When you could go out with a wheelchair and crutch the boys took you to the court. It was your first time on it since the incident. Your eyes fell on the spot where it happened. Patrick followed your eyes, grimacing just a bit. You’d forgotten Art didn’t see it- you still had no idea where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game. “I can almost feel it,” You said, a look of disgust on your face. “I think the gasp from the crowd was the worst part.” 

“It was loud,” Patrick said.

Art looked at where they were looking. “But you almost have full use of your knee again. Who knows, you could be back out here in a few months.” He shrugged. You turned on your crutch, away from the spot, and looked at Art. “Okay, don’t give me that look, you know you just need to try.” 

“I know,” You nodded slowly. “I just don’t know to what extent. I don’t think I could follow through with Stanford.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s so top-notch,” You answered. Patrick kicked around on the court, grabbing one of Art’s balls and rackets and dribbling it around. “The people here are here for a reason and it’s to go pro.” 

Art stepped closer to you, “But you don’t think that’s you?” 

“Not anymore,” You replied, meeting his eyes. “Recovery is amazing but the risk is so high… I’m not even sure I can run yet, let alone sprint and lean side to side on this leg. I want to, I wanted to, but going pro after something like this just doesn’t happen. If I can play again at all, it won’t be good.” You explained. Art nodded through, listening with eyes that held sympathy and a little speck of sadness. “It’s okay, I just… It’s going to take me forever to get over it.” 

He shook his head, “You still don’t need to get over it yet. There’s still so much t-”

“I know. I just can’t see it ever happening.” You said. Art pressed his lips into a straight line and he spun on his heel. Comfort wasn’t what you needed- it was a racket. Art lunged and snatched up the one Patrick was toying with and handed it to you. “What?” 

Patrick caught on quickly. “Hit the ball.” Art said. “In any form.” 

“Art…” You shook your head. 

Patrick threw it anyway and even with the crutch, you instinctively stuck out your racket the way you knew how and hit the ball back to him, your aim still on point. “That was good! What the fuck,” Patrick chuckled. Even he couldn’t hit the ball with that much precision. Art laughed, clapping once- and you had your mouth a little open at the tennis reflexes that hadn’t gone anywhere after all this time. You looked at both of them in minor shock and awe and Art just smiled. He wouldn’t let you give up. He couldn’t. You spent the rest of the evening hitting balls where you stood, feeling a lot better about things. 

Recovery continued, but so did tennis. In your spare time you were on the court, practicing your serves, hitting the ball, everything to do with arms and eventually when the therapist had you on the treadmill walking, jogging, he cleared you to do it with supervision. That was one of the biggest things you’d heard in a while. Art was out in the hall when you’d heard it and you left the doctor mid-sentence just to go tell him, Art surprised at the speed which you approached him at, being used to you only ever walking. “I can jog!” You said, enthusiasm and passion in your eyes and the familiar fire he knew from when you would play tennis with him. 

Your soft hands grabbed his forearms in excitement and Art was a little bit more than aware of it, but the news was amazing. “That’s amazing, that’s crazy, you can jog?” 

“I can jog!” You squealed a little as your mom who was in the room with you swung her head into the hallway. 

“When he said could he didn’t mean away from him, Y/N, get back in here please!” She called, but she wasn’t pulling the full mom card, she was smiling ear to ear just as you were. “And hi Art.” She said, waving to him. Being your main visitors meant they were acquainted. Art went to coffee with your parents while you were in therapy the week prior, he wondered if they had mentioned it. He hadn’t. Art just waved back. 

Soon it was you, Patrick, and Art on the court and your crutches were propped against the bench. You were still a little slow but you’d gotten good at playing where you stood, relying on reach alone and it was quite impressive. You worked on side-stepping instead of lunging and leaning and it helped a lot with having to move around when you needed. It was a lot of laughter but also took a lot of practice and focus to get right. Sometimes you could go for a while, other times not so long, but the rehab had done wonders. This time when you said you were done, Art served the ball and you did lunge for it- both boys afraid, cringing as they watched you rush and lean forward in what seemed like slow motion. But you hit the ball and it flew right at Patrick’s chest and came back into standing position like it was nothing. 

“Oh my god,” You gasped. “I’m so sorry.” Patrick put a hand to his chest but both boys looked at you in wonderment, eyes wide, mouths a little open. To tell the truth they both thought you were done for again as you lunged but you were fine, no complaints, no second thoughts- but a second gasp. You realized the move you’d pulled and the second you realized, both boys started blurting out praise and pride and disbelief and you joined in on it. That was tennis. You’d done everything a tennis player needed to do and it was completed with the simplest lunge. Small victories every day. 

Art was more than proud. Seeing you back on the court was amazing. He’d take you there alone most days when Patrick didn’t feel like it. This particular day you were both a bit disracted, but the reason why was something you both couldn’t place. Art gave up before you today and you both stood by the edge of the bleachers against the metal bar.

You took a sip of your water, “Are we going back out or are we done?” You asked. Art set down his bottle just past you, reaching around. He looked at you and for the moment he had nothing else in his mind but you. Not tennis, not anything, you. 

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He said. You smiled immediately, leaning more against the bar next to you. But it just so happened to be closer to him. And you didn’t mind it, it wasn’t anything new but it was definitely close. Very close. You were close and you were smiling at what he said. He blinked a few times, observing your eyelashes, “Your recovery… I mean. It’s a miracle you’re back here.”

You nodded, that perfect smile on your face. You knew how close you were to him, but you didn’t think much of it. You were more focused on his words. Art was always sweet, you enjoyed that about him. “I’d probably be sitting somewhere with a book on how to coach tennis if you didn’t push me this far. You, you are incredible. I am just grateful.” 

He laughed, “Me? I might have pushed but you snapped the bone in your leg but you’re out here on the court again because you’ve been at it everyday.” He said, sincerity coating every one of his words. “It’s all you.” 

“It’s not all me-”

“With help and support, yes. But if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. You want this, getting here to this point was all you.” He swayed just a little closer, not even on his own account just because being close felt right. He wanted you to feel that it was the truth. You looked up at him and he could see his words meant something as your eyes reflected him in the golden light of the early evening. He’d never seen just how gorgeous your eyes are in this light… And you were thinking the very same thing as your lower lip found itself between your teeth.

You and Art shared a thought before stepping back and it was the reminder that you were best friends. Just friends. Good friends. And nothing more. It was the first time it had crossed your mind, but the hundredth time on Art’s. Neither of you would risk it. 

The practice continued carefully. You had rest days. You’d been lunging on both legs at this point and your game was coming back around. You were off at a meeting with the Stanford tennis coach about returning properly in the fall, having the meeting so that you could make some exceptions. Art and Patrick sat in his dorm room, Art upside down on his bed, feet up on the wall, and Patrick in Art’s computer chair, spinning. The conversation had been about what to have for lunch when Patrick sparked something else up. “Are we meeting Y/N after her meeting?” He asked. 

Art tilted his head back, “Not sure. I could call her when it’s over if you want. Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” Patrick said, throwing the hacky sack he was fiddling with at Art’s head, hitting him in the face and chuckling. Art sat up, whipping the bean bag right back at him. “Oh come on-” He groaned. “I know you want to see her.” 

“I saw her earlier,” Art deflected, recognizing Patrick’s tone. 

“Yeah and?” 

“So you want to see her?” 

“Sure.” Patrick shrugged. Art shrugged back, pulling on a sweater, whenever Patrick was over, he turned the AC in the room way up. Wasn’t relevant, but the silence while Art was putting on his sweater was near unbearable. Art had the sweater half over his head when Patrick stuck his leg out and kicked him over. “I know you like her!” 

“Huh?” Art said, sitting up and fixing the sweater. Patrick pushed him right back over. 

“You like her! Y/N!” He said. He couldn’t take it anymore, the obviousness, how clear it was that you two liked each other. It was getting to be sickening. “I know you, I know you like her and you can’t tell me you don’t because I’ve waited this long for you to-” he shoved Art over again when Art came back up laughing- Patrick couldn’t help but laugh too, “-tell me!” 

There was no purpose in a lie. “Yeah, I guess so,” Art admit, bracing himself to be shoved again and instead, punching Patrick right in the stomach as revenge. Patrick sat back in his chair in pain. “But Patrick, she’s my best friend. And your friend. It’s tricky.” 

“I don’t think it’s that tricky, I mean, she likes you too and it’s obvious,” Patrick said through his stomach pain. 

Art laughed again, “She does not. I’m not her type. We’re just friends.” 

“You are entirely her type, her criteria is tall and normal build and that’s exactly you!” He gestured widely to Art. 

“She did not say that to me when I asked. She told me she doesn’t date guys in sports.” 

“She has two football exes, of course she doesn’t date jocks.” 

“She said sports.” 

“She meant jocks.” Patrick straightened out. “She likes you, Art. She pretty much admit it to me, you can’t tell me otherwise.” 

Art just blinked. Patrick wasn’t right- there was no way. He’d had it in his head that he wasn’t even thought of when it came to anything like that with you. But Patrick was usually right, no matter how much Art hated it. “No, she’s-” he groaned, putting his head in his hands and bending to put his head between his knees. “She’s one of my best friends this would fuck everything up.” 

Patrick shook his head, “It would be fine, you-”

Art groaned again, “And I tell her I like her and then what?” He brought his head up again. “She thinks I’ve just been here to fuck her? To get on her good side, to be with her through this just to get to her? I only started liking her, really liking her after the incident but I have no way to prove that! What would she think if all of a sudden I tell her and she actually doesn’t feel the way I do? This is so bad, Patrick.” 

Patrick just laughed at him, but Art was now able to think about these things aloud. So he was loud. “I promise you she likes you. She’s flirting with you all the time, she’s touchy, she cares a lot about you- more than me, I can attest. She wants you. And as for the injury part- Art, it’s been over a fucking year. She’s not going to think you’re playing the long game.” Art just sighed, but Patrick shoved him over again. “Don’t be a pussy!” 

“I’m not a-” he rolled his eyes and shoved Patrick right back, “-pussy. I just- she’s gorgeous and she’s friendly and she’s kind and caring and amazing and I don’t want to risk losing that just because I have some fucking ninth grade crush on her, you know?” 

He nodded back, “But it’s not. I’ve seen you with your ninth grade crush and you were a lot more horny about it. You like her. She likes you. I don’t care if you tell her now, but I don’t want you thinking she doesn’t want you too. She does, it’s painfully obvious. And I’ll admit she’s hot as fuck, so I’d hate to see you miss the opportunity!” Patrick explained, hands wildly gesturing. “Plus the tension is fucking awful to be around, I don’t know how you do it.” 

Neither did he. With it out in the air Art might have gushed a bit about you. Patrick had never seen him this way- he had so much to say about you and he ended up not calling you, just talking about you for what felt like forever to Patrick. But he didn’t mind. 

You continued to get better and better and it was amazing. You felt amazing about your progress. You got up in the morning and your knee only hurt if you hit it off something. And that was normal for most people, so you took pride in it. You hurried over to Art’s dorm in a tank top and shorts, your hair in two braids. It was early morning, you knew that, but you knocked on the door anyway. Art, woken, opened the door and squinted in the light from the hall. He was gorgeous, you thought. His hair wild and messy from bed and his shirt hiked up a little too high from sleep, leaving his waist and mid-line exposed. “Hey.” He said, opening the door for you to come in, fixing his shirt. 

“Hi,” you said, trying not to grin too wide. You couldn’t wait, you couldn’t. “I got cleared for a real game!” You squealed and you covered your mouth. You’d only found out late last night so you decided to wait until morning, but it really couldn’t wait. Art took a deep breath in but before he could say anything you were talking again. “It’s a small game. It’s local, it’s a tiny game but it’s a real one and it’s singles. I thought you’d want to know!”

“I- I do want to know, that’s amazing, oh my god!” He was almost as excited as you without the squealing and bouncing around. You were cute when you were excited. “A game is a game, it’s incredible, it’s- you- I-” He stopped himself. The excitement nearly got the best of him. But you were grinning ear to ear over tennis and that was all he cared about. “When is the game?” 

“It’s next Sunday,” You giggled. “You’ll come?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“Well, yeah,” You said, your hands on his forearms like they usually were when you were passionate. Almost like you were scared the passion would sweep you away if you didn’t hold onto something. He loved it. 

“No, I’ll be there. And on the sidelines if you let me.” 

“You’re absolutely not sitting in the stands again.” You said, chuckling. He grinned. 

And when the day of the game rolled around, your mother braided your hair in two french braids for you. She had ironed your entire outfit, even your socks. It was her nerves. But the most nervous one in the room at all times was you. You couldn’t eat, you had a hard time falling asleep, but you got up in the morning refreshed and heart pounding at the impending game. It meant a lot of action but you’d worked for this. It was a small local game at a local court with a few bleachers. It was hardly anything, you reminded yourself. This was your second chance just beginning. You slipped on your dark purple skort and your purple tank top and you made sure you had your lucky racket this time. 

Your mom drove you to the court much earlier than needed because you were so on edge and you sat in the hall between changerooms under the bleachers, just doing your breathing to maintain yourself. You were more than glad when Patrick and Art showed up. They didn’t ask if you were ready, they knew it. They just asked where you wanted to go for lunch after the game and debated over if a hot dog counted as a sandwich until your Stanford coach walked in. 

“You’re ready?” She asked, grin on her face. You blinked. 

“What are you…” This was a local game, not Stanford. You looked at Art and Patrick who were bad at hiding their smiles. 

Your coach nodded, “You’ve got this one.” She said. “Now hop to it, they’re waiting.” You looked back at Art and Patrick and they ushered you toward the door. It sounded a bit like a badly-engineered fan at first, going down the hall. Your stomach was already in knots. 

They came completely undone as your coach opened the door and the roar of the crowd was near-deafening. You blinked in the daylight, half-shocked by how loud it was before you realized that it was the sound of people. And as your eyes adjusted, you realized that the tennis court bleachers were absolutely packed full of people and they were loud, cheering. It was a local game, you expected families of the players but no, there must have been hundreds of people in the stands. On the side with no stands there were people lining the fences and you could see people beyond people. You turned, taking it all in as they were calling your name, calling your praise. You covered your mouth seeing your peers from Stanford in the front row, including the girl who had been hitting on Art. You recognized all of them and more. 

You looked at Art and Patrick who were behind you, unable to control their grins at this point and elbowing each other just a bit. Art was only looking at you. You felt so overwhelmed with gratitude, it rose in your stomach like the drop of a rollercoaster. “How did this- How- there’s so many,” You managed to say. 

Patrick beamed, dimples on display, “They’re here for you, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Art tugged one of your braids. “Patrick and I might have… posted about it on facebook. But it wasn’t an invite, just the general information of what had happened and that this was your first real game, so technically it was all you.” He smirked, but it couldn’t stay a smirk, just a really big smile. It matched yours. 

“It was not me,” You sighed exasperated, but more than happy. Scared. But happy. 

“If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be,” He repeated to you. His thumb grazed your cheek when he let go of your braid. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to jump for joy and scream your head off at how amazing this all was. But you got called to serve. 

The screams didn’t die down for any part of the game. You served and the game began and the girl across from you did not feel bad for you and that was clear. She was harsh and hardcore and violent with her swings but you hit almost all of them right back at her at a force and accuracy she couldn’t handle. Art and Patrick on the sidelines were into the game, cheering, calling out remarks on your moves. The moves they’d helped you get back. You were more than grateful with every point you scored. The crowd cheered for both you and your opponent but it was your name you heard screamed out in the crowd. 

It got a bit intense at times, you fell behind for a while but came back, then went back down again, then came back up. The halfway point you spent thanking your best friends profusely while they urged you to rest and have water. You got back on the court after that, swinging, hitting, forehand, backhand, pulling a few moves that required the use of the leg you’d broken and though the crowd held their breath, they were more than impressed. Patrick watched Art stop cheering and clapping for a second, noting the way he was so honed in on you, Patrick was sure a bomb could go off behind Art and he wouldn’t notice. Art was proud, that was what he felt. Proud to know you, proud to be your friend, proud to feel the way he did about you because he knew that you were amazing and resilient and so fucking strong. He had never met anyone like you. 

You locked eyes with him before your opponent served and he swore he felt something shift, really shift. When this game ended he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t go without it, he had to tell you. 

The last quarter got increasingly more intense. You fell once at a move that required the leg you’d broken. The crowd gasped and Art lunged to help you up but you did it yourself. And you got right back up. The fall hurt, but no more than it would have a regular person. That was something that drove your confidence way up. You couldn’t even hear the score anymore. You just knew that you were there and you were playing and you couldn’t have been happier, even if you lost. But the buzzer went off and the game was done and it was almost like you went deaf. The cheers stopped, though they really didn’t, in fact they roared louder than ever before and the crowd launched itself into standing, their hands over their heads, mouths open wide absolutely wild. 

You knew you’d won. But it wasn’t that important. You had one thought- find Art. 

And he wasn’t hard to find. He was there on the sidelines or rather one of the many people who surrounded you when you won. Your other friends, your parents, your coach, Patrick, the staff of the game, and apparently a few nurses who came to see their patient play. But it was Art you reached for. You grabbed his forearms, bracing yourself, your eyebrows furrowing, “I won?” You questioned over the noise, over the hands that congratulated you. 

 Art, biggest grin on his face, “You won.” He answered. And he didn’t have a second to himself before you reached up, cupping his face and kissing him hard. There was nothing else to do in the presence of the win but kiss him. And he kissed you back just as hard. It felt like all the noise and all of the world was sucked away for a moment when his hands fell on your waist, pulling you closer. 

It was a small game with big victories. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it was strong, and the feeling of him lingered on your lips when you parted. Nobody was surprised that you kissed. Not your mom, not the nurses, they’d known. You looked at Art and tried not to smile but it was over the second he grinned. You couldn’t help but grin right back as Patrick came in for a crushing hug. 

“That was fucking incredible!” He told you. Your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as you hugged everyone over your win. Thing eventually died down after a while, people happily funnelling out, congratulating you. But at the end of things it was just you and Art. Patrick had headed out to bring the car around. 

You twisted your mouth to the side, “I can’t believe how many people turned up.” You sighed, content. 

“You have that pull.” Art shrugged. “You are probably my biggest tennis inspiration now.”

“Mhm? You want to be me when you grow up?” You teased, stepping closer. Art smirked, but once again he couldn’t maintain it, he just smiled down at you. “I’m your biggest inspiration…”

He wasn’t afraid to put his arms around your waist. “Maybe, maybe not. But you are amazing. And so fucking good at tennis, I’m scared for your real comeback.” He said. You laughed and it was gorgeous. The front part of your braid fell out and around your face. “You’re going to kick my ass.” 

Your smile was brighter than the mid-day sun. “You bet.” 

Your heart fluttered when he tucked your hair behind your ear again. You both heard the car horn as Patrick beeped from outside the court. “Can I kiss you?” Art asked, pushing your hair behind your ear. You nodded. And this time it was his hand on your jaw, his lips pressing against yours with all of his feeling. It was a kiss untouched by the rush of adrenaline and it was sweet. And it was slow. His lips grazing over yours between kisses, his breath minty from the gum he had just spit out two minutes ago. He held you close and the kiss was full of words yet to be said. You both couldn’t ignore anything anymore. It had been a long time coming. Patrick honked again, but it took you another second before you both pulled away with small smiles. Your hands gently holding his forearms, bracing yourself. 

[ohagiyo]

What I use to learn 日本語! I'll be updating this as I go! So make sure to check in sometime! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

Apps!

Renshuu - Adjustable plan, has flashcards, games, guides, and an interactive community! Overall really simple to use and so fun!

Busuu - Full of ads but has helpful information and an interactive community, no flashcards though.

Websites!

Wanna use Japanese! - It'll show you a few sources/links for the thing you want to practice, whether it be reading, speaking, writing or listening!

Dokusho club - Gives you reading sources!

Tadoku - Also another reading website, with furigana!

Nihongo e na - You choose what category you want to study in, and it'll give you resources! You can also add resources of your own!

Anime & Manga - Can't forget about all my anime/manga lovers!

Minato - For self-study students, they also have a few tutor courses!

Hikidasu - Hikidasu is a Japanese-drama series about Xuan our main character who found herself in Japan for work despite knowing little to none Japanese, embark on a journey of learning with her!

Youglish - Dictionary, plays a video and the timestamp where said word is being spoken so you can pronounce it like how a native speaker would!

Jisho - Another dictionary with examples!

Japanga - 3 in one! Dictionary, Kana and Kanji studies along with radicles!

Nihongoi - Flash cards, vocab, learning thru images, and kanji! All packed into one website covers N5 to N1!

Crunchy Nihongo - I honestly don't know how to describe it, just check it out brah.

Youtube!

Japarrot - Learning Japanese and listening practice in forms of skits!

Let's ask shogo! - Culture!

Kaname Naito - Japanese learning, particles, words, ect.

Comprehensible Japanese - It's in the name, The channel contains gaming content, cooking, unboxing, reading books, all in Japanese with gestures! I suggest watching the unpacking series!

Nihongo Dekita With Sayaka - Much like Kaname Naito, teaches you real Japanese!

Daily Japanese with Naoko - Food, listening practice, and conversation practice!

Nihongo learning - Bite sized comprehensible Japanese videos!

Japanese Ammo with Misa - Like Sayaka, although she uploads frequently(?)

Learn Japanese with Tanaka San - Short skits and listening practice!

Yuko-Sensei - One of THE best teachers there is tbh, explains grammar points, particles, Kanji radicles, and so on!

Leisurely Life Diary - Life vlogs from the country side of Japan! All in Japanese + Japanese Subtitles!

Akane Japanese Class - Vlogs and essential vocab for certain places, All in Japanese!

Anime!

Atashin'chi Official Channel - Slice of life anime in Japanese without subtitles! There are Eng subs though.

美味しんぼ 公式チャンネル���デジタルリマスター版】 - Cooking anime yum

Blogs!

Buchi to Pichi - They're on hiatus so don't expect new content! however their posts are so so helpful for beginners!

Hamusuke japanese learning - Posts 4 verbs or adjectives or some kanji at least everyday or so, they're also the creator Nihongoi!

Japan Words - Calligraphy and words. I mean, what did you expect?

Dokusho club - Did you know that they have a tumblr? yeah, me neither.

Nihongo no tabi - Just someone posting about their journey in japanese and sharing what they find.

Mocha youbi - tes, another study blog they also repost JP stuff.

Nihongo Enthusiast - I have no idea if this is an archived account or something but erm idk just have it.

@moss-sama-sideblog i thought id tag you in this since you looked interested

[schadentekkers]

~ CHRIS & DREW MASTERPOST ~

putting together a list of matches available online featuring chris and drew either teaming together or against each other bc i have no life! and also for my fellow chrisdrew heads bc we gotta stick together.

some of these links will be behind a paywall, but i will try my best to find options that are not!! they'll be in order of year and organized by promotion. i have not been able to find any of their matches pre-2017, but i will continue my search until the day i die.

LUCHA FOREVER - the dawning of forever -> cck + chief deputy dunne vs. drew, bea priestley, + el ligero (2:15:00 timestamp)

ATTACK PRO WRESTLING - damplified -> cck vs. drew and shax

dear maria tag me in -> chris and pete dunne vs. drew and elijah

lifestyles of the weird and the wonderful -> chris vs. drew

nonstop feeling (pressure to succeed) -> chris, chief deputy dunne + wild boar vs. drew, lk mezinger + mike bird

live at the dome 3 -> chris vs. drew

**unfortunately, most attack pro shows are not available anywhere else other than the linked site, as far as i've found. the good thing is, the sub price isn't too steep, however they don't have all of their shows available, so some chris&drew matches are missing :(

PWC - the chaos element -> chris vs. drew (1:22:00 timestamp)

PROGRESS - chapter 82: unboxing day -> chris vs. drew, no dq (1:20:35 timestamp)

IPW - tuesday night graps forever -> cck + (inflatable) pete dunne vs. drew, el phantasmo, + the invisible man (45:30 timestamp) also with aussie open on comms. a good time

DDT - summer vacation 2020 -> chris + drew vs. damnation (57:40 timestamp)

get alive 2020 -> chris vs. drew, no dq for the universal title (1:34:20 timestamp)

who's gonna top? 2020 -> chris + drew vs. yuki ueno + naomi yoshimura (1:02:25 timestamp)

d-oh grand prix 2021 in ota-ku - chris + drew vs. mao + shunma (1:30:20 timestamp)

super encounter #1 - chris + drew vs. mao + shunma streetfight

super encounter #6 - chris + drew vs. mao + shunma vs. saki akai + hagane shinno

judgement 2023 -> chris, drew + hagane shinno vs. damnation t.a (2:40:30 timestamp)

BJW - 12.30.2021 -> chris + drew vs. astronauts (1:31:40 timestamp)

only the young -> chris + drew vs. kota sekifudo + yuya aoki (8:46 timestamp)

2 young 2 die -> chris + drew vs. isami kodaka + yuko miyamoto

front row -> chris + drew vs. kankuro hoshino + akira hyodo

young man standing -> chris + drew vs. kota sekisada & mitsuru takeda

ten minutes -> chris + drew vs. daisuke sekimoto & yuya aoki

**sadly the last half of the bjw shows i'm unable to find anywhere other than the bjw core website which is behind a paywall

GAKE NO FUCHI JOSHI - it's summer isn't it? -> drew + rina yamashita vs. chris + miyako matsumoto

clockwork -> chris vs. suzu suzuki (this is a chris match, but drew is his second and he does get involved in the hijinks)

snow white -> chris vs. miyako matsumoto (drew as chris' second again getting involved in the wonderful nonsense that is this match)

happy death day -> chris, drew + veny vs. miyako matsumoto, rina yamashita, + jun kasai (1:32:40 timestamp)

GANBARE PRO - kocho ranbo -> chris, drew + miyako matsumoto vs. veny, hagane shinno, + shinichiro tominaga (51:50 timestamp)

GATOH MOVE - chocopro # 179 -> chris + drew vs. baliyan akki + yuna mizumori

BAKA GAIJIN - vol. 1 -> chris vs. drew / chris + masa vs. drew + mao (1:01:30 timestamp)

vol. 4 -> chris + masa vs. drew + rina (1:10:40 timestamp)

i am also going to link this podcast that they did so everyone can mourn with me the fact that they only did one episode </3

AND that is the end of the list, for now! yay yippee! please enjoy

[hsr-texts]

find your cinderella

꒰‧₊˚✩彡‧꒱ ┊ ━━━━ chapter one

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ streamer!reader x mystery hsr character ꒱

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ otome event ꒱

꒰ ☰ WORD COUNT ┊780 ꒱

꒰ ☰ DESCRIPTION ┊ ━━ When you do an unboxing livestream for your subsribers, you find an invite to an exclusive event called the "Find Your Cinderella" masquerade gala where you are guaranteed to find your supposed true love, as a rather enthusiastic manager told you. ꒱

꒰ ☰ NOTES ┊omg sorry for the long wait!! i was taking care of my college admissions, exercising, and taking care of my aunt all at the same time!! ꒱

previously ┊masterlist

You read the livechat so far. It seemed that the majority wanted you to go.

It was understandable why. This all seemed to be so exciting for regular people who don’t get to go to these events. In your career as a streamer, most of your appeal to viewers came from how relatable you were. Of course, there was also your gaming content but most your subscribers seem to just be happy to watch you do fun stuff. And in their eyes, this event would be the most fun thing you’ll ever get to do.

Despite how strange this all seemed, it probably shouldn’t hurt to go, right? Sugo said that something good will come out of it no matter what happens. Plus, if you didn’t go, would you regret it? Would you later lie in bed late at night, thinking of what could’ve been? Would your curiosity ever stop bugging you about it?

Also 500,000 credits sounded real good for just going to a party and tolerating it.

You clasped your hands together. “Alright then! I’ll be attending the Find Your Cinderella Gala and see what it’s about!”

Your chat cheered for the decision.

You then noticed the time. 12 midnight.

“Aw man, sorry guys but it’s getting pretty late so I’ll be logging off now. I’ll see you guys next time!”

With one last farewell wave, you switched off the stream and checked the statistics. Wow, it seemed to be at an all time high. At least Sugo was right about one thing. It’d only be a matter of time until the news of this gala spread like wildfire.

You found a QR code on the back of the ticket so you scanned it with your phone. It led to a website for the FYC Gala.

You clicked the “attending” button, leaning back on your seat. Seeing the dress code, you checked the package once again and saw that the outfit came with shoes, accessories, and a mask already. Huh, they really prepared everything for you. At least you wouldn’t have to spend extra money. Getting that limited edition LumiPro package already put a slight dent in your finances, after all.

It finished loading and you read the words: “Added to the guest list”

A yawn escaped your lips.

You got off the chair and went over your nightly routine before passing out in your bed.

                                                                                                    

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep—

Click.

You pulled your hand away from your alarm and sat up, yawning. Taking a glance at your clock, you saw that it was 9am.

After a round of stretching, you got off your bed and made a beeline for the kitchen.

You decided to eat tocilog for breakfast so you started cooking rice, eggs, and tocino. A pleasant scent wafted through the kitchen as the meal was being cooked. You let out a delighted sigh, enjoying the smell of a good meal in the morning.

After the meal was finished cooking, you sat down at your dining table to eat it. You made a pleased noise as you ate, satisfied with how the meal came out.

Ding!

You checked your phone and saw that you got a message from your editor, Cori.

Huh? Your eyebrows furrowed so you sent a quick reply and did as asked, looking at online news.

“Streamer’s Unboxing Stream Gets Hijacked By LumiPro Event Organiser in Publicity Stunt”

You checked LumiTube and clips of your stream have been uploaded on there, rapidly gaining over a million views within 12 hours. Damn.

Taking a sip of your water, you leaned back with a contemplative expression on your face. What should you stream today?

With your current status as a streamer that recently became viral, you could take advantage of that and do a stream where you prepare for the FYC Gala by going to a salon and letting viewers watch you get your nails and hair done, then maybe also booking a makeup artist for before the gala, if needed.

But since there was still about two weeks until the gala, you figured there was no rush.

Besides that, you could do a gaming stream since you still need to complete Freya’s Gate 5.

As if a light bulb flickered above your head, your eyes lit up and you took your phone out, logging onto Trotter.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

A series of typing noises came from your phone and you pressed post.

This way, you can let your followers choose what you'll be doing today without having to do the heavy work of making a decision, truly a predicament for someone as indecisive as yourself.

And now you just wait for the results.

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first Australian Girl doll

She spent more than a month in a box, making her way halfway across the world to her new home, and now here she is! I'm so relieved that she arrived safely. It was the longest I've ever had to wait for a doll, and through much of her journey I didn't know where she was or when she would be here.

I don't want to drop too big of a spoiler, but listen to this........ she was so worth the wait, and the money. This doll instantly won my heart with how exquisite she is in every way.

Australian Girl dolls were specially made for Australian children, by Helen Schofield, a grandmother who loved dolls. She created the brand when she couldn't find an age appropriate doll that was locally available or good quality. So she created these dolls to help children feel pride in Australian culture, while teaching them about friendship and empathy. There are five girls to befriend--Amy, Jasmine, Emily, Bronte, and Matilda, each representing a different region of the country, ethnicity, and lifestyle.

The company itself has quite high standards. They strive to reduce waste in their product packaging, and they use a factory in China that treats its workers humanely and does not use child labor.

If you've been around my blog for a while, you know how much I love collecting diverse brands and types of play dolls, especially international dolls. Also, this one will be extra special because I actually have an Australian grandmother--she's also a doll collector, and I'm looking forward to showing her my new doll the next time I see her.

After the cut, I'll show you who she is, and talk about why I chose her. I'll compare her with similar-sized dolls as well, and have her do some dressing up.

Before we get to the unboxing, let's check out the little goodies included with my doll.

First is a little pamphlet explaining why the dolls are special, but also represent real girls growing up in Australia.

There's another pamphlet about how to care for your doll.

All of the dolls come with a fun freebie: this cute pair of thongs.

Another freebie (a $30 AUD value) is this very sturdy doll carrier with pockets for accessories.

I also bought a pair of sneakers for my new girl. I figured her feet would be a bit larger than my other dolls, and these are cute, so she now has three pairs of shoes to wear.

Anyway. Enough of the small stuff. Let's let her out of the box.

It's Amy from Adelaide!

I chose Amy after three entire years of being indecisive and going back and forth on exactly which Australian Girl I wanted. They're all equally adorable, so I picked Amy because her personality seems very sweet, and I love that she has mixed heritage. According to the Austrlaian Girl dolls website, Amy's family tree is a mix of Aboriginal and Dutch on her mother's side, and English and Indian/Fijian on her father's side. Very representative of modern Australia!

I have no regrets. She is perfect!!! Just the most charming little angel. I am officially WOWED.

I'm seriously impressed at the superior quality of her construction. I understand why she was priced a bit higher than similar dolls. She is, from head to toe, beautifully made, with so many sweet details. Her dress and shoes are also impeccably made and feel very durable.

Her hair is flawless. It's a Kanekalon wig with loose curls, in a gorgeous shade of brown. Her eyes open and close. She has both painted and attached eyelashes.

She has a gap between her big toe and the next toe, so she can wear her sandals and thongs.

Her elbows are dimpled and she has subtle blush color on parts of her skin, including elbows and hands.

She has a crease across her palm.

She has articulation at her shoulders, hips, and neck. Her limbs, head, and shoulders are vinyl, and she has a huggable soft tummy. I don't really have a strong preference for either cloth torsos, vinyl torsos, or half and half like Amy. They all have pros and cons. This specific construction is nice in that she can wear low-neckline clothes without showing a cloth body, but it does make her harder to repair in case she has to be fixed.

I have a pretty good idea of what she'll be wearing when she's ready to change out of her pink party dress.

The first photo shows her in a dress I made. The second is a Maplelea dress and hat. The rest are all American Girl brand clothing, except for the shoes. Amy can comfortably wear most stretchy clothes by AG and similar brands like Our Generation, but her feet absolutely will not fit AG, OG, or Maplelea shoes.

The exception to the clothes is some of the tighter pieces. This AG shirt did not fit well. Amy's shoulders are a bit more broad than smaller dolls, and so without some extra give this is too tight.

Amy is 20 inches/51 centimeters tall. Here she is next to my Our Generation doll Jordana. I'm using an OG doll because they're actually available locally in Australia. Whereas American Girl dolls, which I usually use when I compare brands, have to make an overseas journey. So it's only fair that I consider any Australians reading this now who are wondering how Amy compares.

Amy is tall, but not the tallest doll in the family! Here she is next to Fernanda, my Karito Kids doll, who is about an inch taller although slimmer. Karito Kids dolls are in fact just slightly skinnier than American Girl dolls, so they have a much easier time sharing clothes.

In conclusion, I highly highly recommend this doll. She's absolutely sublime! I'm so thrilled to have her here, and I'm looking forward to having lots of adventures with her.

Obviously I'm far from Australia, but my Amy will still live her life as if she were in a suburb outside of the city of Adelaide. I've been looking at pictures of the geography of the state of South Australia, and there are some places in the mountainous parts that look pretty similar to the desert southwest where I live. So Amy will have no idea she's actually in the USA. Don't tell her the truth!

[someonelookingpraediti]

Special Editions

All for the Game Rainbow Crate Edition

It's been the best part of a year since I last did an unboxing post. I have still been receiving subscription boxes, and I've even been taking photos of them, with the intention of catching up on my blog posts, but it's now been so long that the idea of sitting down and catching up on ten months of posts is just too daunting.

So I'm just going to forget all the ones I've missed, and start afresh.

And here it is - the big one. Rainbow Crate's hardback editions of the original "All for the Game" trilogy!

There's been a lot of complaints online about these - they were a lot of money, and people have been really disappointed. But I have to say, I am so, so impressed with these books!

The reason people are complaining is that there are some printing errors on the dust jackets. Basically, some of the information on the flaps is wrong, and the blurbs have been mixed around. But it's only the dust jackets that are wrong, and that is such an easy fix.

And Rainbow Crate handled it really well, in my opinion. Before I'd even received my books, I had an email from them with a form to order replacement dust jackets for free. An easy solution.

I can't help but compare this to the last set of messed-up special editions I received, which was The Raven Cycle by Owlcrate. They had the exact same issue - the dust jackets were misprinted. For them, it was the colour that was wrong - they'd been printed green instead of blue. But instead of reprinting the dust jackets, they refused to acknowledge their mistake, and brushed people off.

Looking back, I really do think that was what made me lose my passion for this blog, and consequentially, for reading in general. I've really struggled to find joy in it ever since, and have moved on to new things. I just spent so much time stewing over it, that I got into a really bad mindset.

But maybe these Rainbow Crate editions will save me!

Dust Jackets:

I have to say, when they first announced their jacket design, I wasn't that excited about it. But it has grown on me, and I really like it now, despite the fact that it looks more like Enhypen fanart than Foxes artwork! Rainbow Crate also changed the jacket font after they went on sale. I don't know why they made the change after the artwork had already been finalised, but it made such a huge difference! The artwork looks so much better with the new, bolder font.

The inside of the jackets have the original (terrible) self-published cover designs, but they're sharper and foiled and not off-centre, so actually they somehow look professional?! I'm impressed that they managed to save those designs! The originals were awful, but the Rainbow Crate versions look nice!

Hardcase:

I actually almost wish that I had ordered two copies, although I really couldn't have afforded it. Because the hardcase designs are so gorgeous, I want to be able to display them! I've always loved this character art by llstarcasterll, so I'm thrilled to have it on the covers!

And I didn't realised there would be ribbon bookmarks, but I've never been so impressed with such a small detail! I always think a ribbon bookmark really makes a special edition, but these ones go so much further. They're each printed with a different quote! When I saw that, honestly, I was blown away!

Endpapers:

The endpapers are designed by my absolute favourite AFTG artist, ouijacine, so I was going to love them, no matter what. There are six different endpapers, two per book, and they're all beautiful.

I don't know what the rules are about selling art a publisher or subscription box has commissioned, but I'm hoping she'll be able to sell these as prints on her website, because I would definitely love to have some of these on my wall.

Sprayed Edges:

The edges are fairly standard, with the fox paw, key, and chess piece design stencilled in white, but I really like that the background colour for each one isn't just solid, it matches the dust jacket design. I guess this isn't quite so good if you're planning to display them with the reverse jackets or as naked hardcases. But I think they're still nice anyway.

And bonus points because even the outbox was amazing?! They'd had a special orange AFTG shipping box made, with a fox print on top, and quotes from the books. My one criticism with this is that it was very snug to the books, so if there had been any damage to the outbox, it probably would have transferred through to the books. A bit more room for bubble wrap would have been good. But it was so special coming home and seeing this beautiful orange box waiting on my doorstep, and knowing exactly what was inside!

I haven't read the bonus chapters yet, but I believe there's one at the end of each book. And all three books had tip-in signatures, which makes them extra special.

Overall, this was a total win, in my eyes. I think they've done a really good job with these editions, and there isn't anything more I could have asked from them. The only issue is with the misprinted jackets, and I was really impressed with the way Rainbow Crate resolved it so quickly and easily.

[secretmage]

Gaming Heads Solas Statue (Fade edition)

very long unboxing-related post ahead -

So I was lucky enough to get my hands on one of these and it has arrived! My sister was at home when it was delivered by China Post (and my country's post for the last-mile journey) from GH's Asia warehouse in Dongguan, Guangdong province. I live in South East Asia, so that's the closest warehouse to me. Shipping cost me 120USD but that price is likely dependent on where you live from their nearest warehouse.

and let's just say the box is super big (boba for scale). The shipping box is 66cm x 30cm x 84cm (26" x 11.8" x 33") while the actual packaging box inside is around 60cm x 25cm x 79cm (23.6" x 9.85" x 31.1").

The packaging box is more than half my height and I unboxed in a really small space, so it was a little of a struggle. I kinda just dragged the styrofoam out slowly and carefully. Both sides of the styrofoam - image of statue embossed on one side, and on the other side, the authentication card:

The authentication card looks and feels like a credit card; the authentication code text is embossed in silver.

I lifted the styrofoam up slowly so the parts don't take a rough tumble. And found myself face to face with disembodied body parts - I never thought I would use those words in a sentence. (I already unwrapped the base for the first photo).

The base is really heavy! Unfortunately there was some really minor damage but nothing super glue (cyanoacrylate) can't fix. Just remember not to use too much, so the glue doesn't ooze out betwee the cracks when you press the pieces together. I didn't bother contacting GH over this.

Boba again for scale, and main attachment points in the statue - the robe attaches to a notch in his butt LOL. Ignore the crack on my wall, clearly the veil is thin in my house as well ;_;

Inventory of parts. The statue comes in 3 variants and here are the differences:

Standard Edition

Head with brown eyes

Hands clasped behind his back

The Veil Edition

Parts that come with the Standard Edition (i.e. Brown-eyed head, Hands clasped behind back)

Isana's Song

Acolyte's staff

One left arm

One right arm

TWO right hands for the staves. Okay this one tripped me up for a bit and I thought GH sent me two hands by accident. It turns out the sculpt is so detail-oriented that Isana's Song and the Acolyte's staves DIFFER IN DIAMETER so one hand is for Isana's and the other is for the Acolyte's (Isana's shaft is wider in diameter). Honestly if it were me I would have just standardised the diameters so only one hand is needed hahah

Fade Edition

Parts that come with the Standard and the Veil Edition

Head with light purple eyes

One left arm clasped across his chest

One right arm

But do check out GH's website for more details, they've itemised it better than I could. Currently, all 3 variants retail for the same price on GH's website so obviously, if you can, it makes more sense to grab the Fade edition to get more value for your money. Just note that the Fade ed. is limited to 500 pieces, Veil's is limited to 1,000, and the Standard has 1,500.

Isana's song has two points of magnetic attachment to his right hand, so he can grasp it slightly higher or lower. The points are marked out super subtly but sliding the staff up and down his hand will reveal the magnetic areas easily so don't bother looking for these marks! Acolyte's seems to only have one.

Height when Isana's Song is held at the upper position is almost 65cm, or 25.4". The entire length of Isana's Song is approx 53cm, or 20.9". The length is perfect as a real-life wand haha

Both staves are secured by magic magnets to his back (though not both at the same time). It feels a little fiddly to me though. But it also means that technically he can hold a staff and carry another on his back like a dual-wielding mage.

Some details (love the chainmail) and scale comparison with Dark Horse Direct's statuette (giving "don't talk to me or my son ever again" energy)

I would say the sculpt and paint quality are great, the only two complaints I have is that:

The fur isn't as vibrant as the master on the GH website. It's missing the contrast as the dark parts of the fur are nowhere near dark enough but this is in no way a dealbreaker for me.

The hand holding the staff feels both secure and fiddly at the same time. It feels like if I brush the staff the wrong way the entire thing will drop right off, but at the same time there is a pin and some magnetic attachment so I am probably overthinking it.

Right now I'm trying to get a case made as cheaply as possible so for now I've left it like this like a museum exhibit with some DIY stanchions (added a human for scale) -

If anyone has questions or wants measurements or more detailed photos feel free to ask away! I just like to add that I consider myself lucky to be in a spot where I can purchase this without going completely broke so I'm grateful for that ;_;

[jealousjersey]

mike who works at a sex shop + innocent reader who goes in + mike that uses everything he has to help her cum ^3^ love ur writing btwwww

Youve never done anything like this before. Going into a sex shop? You couldnt help but feel so stupid and embarrassed by yourself. You cover your face as you walk into the place you set your gps to take you.

Seeing a man with a light scruff on his face, he looked happy to be there. Why werent you? Was it the bright lighting that wasa long contrast from what the website said? The sign said discreet. This was not that.

The man behind the counter looked at you and smiled, seeing your flushed and embarrassed face. “Whatcha lookin for?” he smiled. His name tag said “Mike” with a smiley face and sloppy handwriting.

"Uh.. I saw online that you—the store—have the magic wands?” You stammer, your face turning red. "Yeah, we got em, $200 for the 10 speed one.” Your eyes widen as he tells you the price. Two hundred fucking bucks just to make you cum? Staying a virgin sounds a helluva lot better than those prices.

“Is there any sample? That I can try out just to see if I like it? That price is just Jesus." You didn't know how these things worked. With the bright ass light blinding you, you weren't even sure this was the right place.

"Well, can you really put a price on your satisfaction?” he says with a smug smile. satisfaction. That word always made you squirm. Like how most people feel about the word "moist." Just sounded gross. You shake your head. How would you even know if you liked that kind of stuff? He notices your discomfort and chuckles. “You don't come to these places, do you?” he smiles. You shake your head no, and he looks at you.

"Well, let's do this... I'll buy it, but it comes with a price,” he says to you with a malicious grin.

“What kinda price?” You tilt your head like a dog being shown a treat. His grin widens, revealing a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, just a little favor for me," he says cryptically, leaving you to wonder what he has in mind. You can't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and apprehension at the unknown bargain he's proposing.

“Ill buy it for you, but you have to let me use it on you.”

You think about it, and after a few moments you nod, looking around, making sure nobody you knew was around. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You say softly, You can’t believe you’re agreeing to this... But hell, you get a free toy out of it.

He picks out the one you asked for and takes his name tag off, then rings up the toy and pays for it. God, he’s needy. But so are you, so what’s the deal? You’ve never let anyone use a toy on you, not even yourself. But hell, there’s a first for everything, you suppose. He takes you outside, and you point to your car, getting into the backseat. He looks at you with a smirk and unboxes it. “You want this, right?” he asks you as he looks into your eyes. “Yes, I want this. I want you,” you say with complete sincerity.

He brings the toy out and commands you to take your pants off; you nod and strip for him. You’re already glistening with arousal from him. He turns the toy on, placing the head of it onto your thigh so you can get used to the vibration. It’s shocking at first; nothing you’ve experienced before, but you trusted him.

You spread yourself out for him on the seat of your car, rubbing yourself to get ready for him. He smiles and gently leans down and kisses your labia, making you shiver. Fuck, you’re needy for him. He presses the toy just beside your clitoral area, dipping into the waters before giving you exactly what you need. The vibrations send shocks through you, already making you dripping. He slips his thumb into you with ease to feel the progress. fucking soaked.

You let out a soft whimper that sounds like heaven spoke clearly; he places his hand on your stomach and presses down to intensify the feeling. “More,” you mumble. He turns the toy up another and places it directly onto your bud, causing you to shiver with excitement and need.

You roll your eyes back as the electricity surges through you, humping the air to create the much-needed friction. His touch is electric, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. You arch your back, craving more of his expert touch as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

His fingers expertly find all the right spots, making you gasp with lust as you lose yourself in the moment. The intensity builds, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of release as you surrender to his touch. The anticipation builds as you feel the heat radiating from his body, heightening your senses and deepening the connection between you.

He groans as he sees your face, so needy for you, so lost in the passion he's giving you. With each touch, you feel yourself getting closer to that sweet release, the tension in your body building with each passing moment. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he whispers in your ear, "Let go," and you finally allow yourself to surrender completely to the overwhelming satisfaction.

With each touch, you feel a sense of liberation and euphoria wash over you, allowing yourself to fully embrace the sensation of the moment. The chemistry between you and him is undeniable, creating a magnetic pull that draws you closer together. As the tension mounts, you can't help but let go of all inhibitions and fully immerse yourself in the passion of the moment. The toy you were playing with falls to the floor, forgotten. You need him. Only him. Fuck the toy; when you're this close, he's the only thing you need. His hands on your skin ignite a fire within you, making you ache for more of his touch. The desire between you intensifies, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy as you lose yourselves in each other's embrace. You give in to the passion, surrendering completely to him.

His pants drop, and he climbs on top of you, ready to take you to greater levels of freedom. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, as you both become lost in the heat of the passion. Every touch, every kiss, sends shivers down your spine, heightening the satisfaction between you. As you feel his hands exploring your body, a sense of release wash over you, allowing you to fully embrace the moment and let go of all inhibitions. The connection between you deepens.

He lines himself up with you, whispering in your ear sensually, "Are you okay with this?"

"yeah, I'm okay with this. More than okay."

You feel a rush of desire and anticipation as he enters you, sparking a flame within that burns hotter with each thrust. The world fades away as you lose yourself in the ecstasy of the moment, surrendering completely to the passion between you. His thrusts hit your spot each time without fail. The moans escaping your mouth are nothing less than a symphony to his ears, never hearing anything more beautiful, more profound. His groans turn you on like nothing else, which causes you to grow wetter for him.

The rush of the moment is overwhelming; every touch and movement sends shivers down your spine. He thrusts into you with primal intensity, his eyes locked on yours, conveying a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless. You feel alive, connected, and consumed by the fire of desire burning between you. As you both reach the peak of satisfaction, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in a tangled embrace of pure ecstasy. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear, but you hold on tight, savoring each moment as if it were your last. And as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, you realize that this moment, this connection, is something truly special and unforgettable. And you never want it to end.

The drool escaping your mouth turns him on, causing deeper thrusts; his thumb comes and hits your spot so beautifully you gasp for more. His lips graze your ear and softly bite the lobe. You cling to him as he moves with purpose, sending shockwaves of intimacy through your entire body. Every touch, every kiss, and every achingly intimate moment leaves you wanting more. As the intensity builds and your bodies become one, you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensations that only he can provide. This connection, this raw passion, is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. You never want it to end; you never want to let go of this blissful moment in time.

His dick enters you once more and sends you spiraling into ecstasy, pushing you to the edge of satisfaction. Your bodies move in perfect sync, each thrust bringing you closer to a climax that you never knew was possible. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, overwhelms your senses and leaves you craving more. As you reach the peak, you let out a moan of pure bliss, lost in the intensity of the moment.

This connection with him is like nothing you've ever felt before—a fierce and fulfilling experience that you never want to end. His touch sends shivers down your spine and electrifies every nerve ending in your body. You're so close, you can taste it. The intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming, but you welcome it with open arms, embracing the ecstasy that washes over you. Every touch, every movement, every sensation is a work of art that leaves you breathless and completely consumed by lust.

You gasp and hold onto his shirt, your body trembling with anticipation as you lose yourself in the moment. You whisper softly, "I'm almost there... Just say it, and I'll cum for you. I need your permission," you say shakily. His eyes lock with yours, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he leans in closer. "loose it," he whispers, his voice sending chills down your spine. With those two words, you surrender to the overwhelming feeling that crashes over you in waves, finally reaching the peak of ecstasy you've been yearning for. As you release yourself to the intense sensations, you feel a sense of liberation and fulfillment wash over you, leaving you in a state of blissful contentment. The connection between you and him deepens as you both share in the intimate moment of pure ecstasy.

You finish, feeling his hips stutter against yours—a sign he's close, about to fill you up with his release. As you both reach the height of bliss together, you realize that this moment of shared intimacy has brought you even closer than before. With a final gasp and shudder, he releases his pent-up desire, filling you with a sense of satisfaction and completion that lingers long after the physical sensations fade.

You both finish, and he pulls out, leaving you soaked in both of your releases. He looks at you, big brown eyes filled with lust and desire. He whispers, "That was incredible." and takes his shirt, placing it between your legs to soak up the mess you made. "That was my first time. Like ever," you whisper with what seems to be embarrassment mixed with pride, knowing you satisfied him to the fullest. He smiles and pulls you close, whispering that he can't wait for the next time.

The duty was definitely completed. You had sex, came, and made a new 'friend'. You let out a happy sigh and stayed in his arms.

[quinnyundertow]

I want to share this great experience I had with this artist I purchased from. I originally saw the prints for sale in the TikTok shop. That may be legitimate but I decided to find the artist @lucentyuzu and buy from their official website Lucentyuzu.com

Let’s unbox this

You can tell they put a lot of care into this

The other side of the thank you card is this amazing print???

They included some freebies as well 😭😭❤️

They are so sweet to pick the Yuta button when that was obviously what I would want based on my purchases hahaha. Now for the prints I bought!

Please checkout @lucentyuzu amazing art and consider buying a print. Maybe even a like or share will boost this lovely artists sales.

[tom781]

SEO for YouTube: How to Optimize Your Videos for Search

Meet Paul. Paul is a budding YouTuber with a passion for tech reviews and tutorials. He’s been creating content for a while, but his channel isn’t growing as quickly as he’d hoped. Paul’s videos are high-quality, informative, and engaging, yet they’re not reaching a wide audience. The key problem? His videos are not optimized for YouTube’s search algorithm. This is where SEO, or Search Engine Optimization, comes into play.

Understanding YouTube SEO

SEO for YouTube involves optimizing your videos so they rank higher in search results. Higher ranking videos get more views, which can lead to more subscribers and overall channel growth. Here’s how Paul can optimize his videos for YouTube search:

Keyword Research

Paul’s first step is to find the right keywords. Keywords are the terms and phrases that users type into the search bar when looking for videos. Paul uses tools like Google Trends, TubeBuddy, and VidIQ to identify popular keywords related to his content. For instance, if Paul’s video is about the latest iPhone review, he might discover that “iPhone 14 review,” “iPhone 14 unboxing,” and “iPhone 14 vs Samsung Galaxy S22” are popular search terms.

Optimizing Video Titles

Once Paul has his keywords, he needs to incorporate them into his video titles. A good title is clear, concise, and includes the main keyword. For example, instead of titling his video “My Thoughts on the New iPhone,” Paul titles it “iPhone 14 Review: In-Depth Look at Apple’s Latest Smartphone.” This title is more likely to match what users are searching for.

Creating Engaging Thumbnails

Thumbnails are the first thing viewers see. An eye-catching thumbnail can significantly increase click-through rates. Paul creates custom thumbnails that are visually appealing and relevant to the video content. He includes the video title or key phrases in the thumbnail to attract viewers’ attention.

Writing Detailed Descriptions

The video description is another crucial SEO element. Paul writes detailed descriptions for his videos, incorporating his main keyword and related terms naturally. He includes a brief summary of the video, timestamps for different sections, and links to his social media, website, and other relevant videos. This not only helps with SEO but also provides a better viewer experience.

Using Tags Effectively

Tags help YouTube understand the content of a video. Paul uses a mix of broad and specific tags, including his main keyword and variations of it. For his iPhone review video, he might use tags like “iPhone 14,” “iPhone review,” “Apple smartphone review,” and “tech reviews 2023.”

Engaging with Viewers

Engagement metrics like likes, comments, and watch time also influence search rankings. Paul makes an effort to engage with his audience by asking questions in his videos, responding to comments, and encouraging viewers to like and share his videos. The more engagement his videos get, the higher they are likely to rank.

Promoting Videos on Social Media

Paul doesn’t rely solely on YouTube’s search algorithm to drive traffic. He promotes his videos on social media platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. By sharing his videos with a broader audience, he increases the chances of getting more views and engagement.

Analyzing and Adjusting

Finally, Paul regularly reviews his analytics to understand what’s working and what’s not. He looks at metrics like watch time, click-through rates, and viewer retention. Based on this data, Paul adjusts his SEO strategy and content approach to continually improve his channel’s performance.

Conclusion

Through consistent effort and strategic optimization, Paul starts to see his videos rank higher in YouTube search results. His channel grows steadily, attracting more viewers and subscribers. By following these SEO practices, Paul not only improves his search rankings but also enhances the overall quality and reach of his content.

For any YouTuber looking to grow their channel, understanding and implementing YouTube SEO is crucial. Just like Paul, you too can optimize your videos and achieve greater success on the platform.

[ghoultrifle]

Packer Play

Inspired by these two posts:

@samaellevampire's post about swiss/dew packer play and

@belle--ofthebrawl's post about quintessence on straps

Swiss gets a packer, and Dew has a great time sitting on his lap (they fuck nasty about it)

This is incredibly self indulgent with a little bit of a rant about packer skin tones from your resident mixed race writer (i am not pale, olive, or black thank you very much!) and of course be careful if you’re going to bind during sex, let’s just pretend Swiss has sized up for this fic <3

cw: mentions of dysphoria, not feeling 'enough'

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Swiss stood there staring at the package left outside his door, Mr Swisstopher Ghoul, it read, one of the first parcels he’d received under his new name. He giggled as he brought it inside, knowing exactly the contents of the inconspicuous box. Tearing the brown tape with a fang, he ripped into the cardboard, unboxing the items he’d ordered the previous week.

Laid out on his bed were three items, a packer, a strap, and its harness. The packer was flame red, the website didn’t have any colours to match the multi ghoul’s rich skin tone so he went with the novelty option. He’d rather have a silly colour than one that felt off, like it wasn’t designed with people like him in mind. Swiss chose the mid-size packer, he knew Satan would have blessed him with a monster cock given the chance, but he didn’t want to look like he was permanently sporting a woody if he could help it.

The strap was much more well endowed, the multi ghoul needing not worry about showing off his size in the bedroom. Another novelty colour, green this time. He couldn’t wait to sink it into Mountain and watch it camouflage against his sage cheeks. The harness was a black pretty thing, trying it on he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a little bit wet at the sight of the fabric digging into his hips. But that was for another time, the multi ghoul was just excited to have that casual bulge, to not feel exposed when he stretched his arms above his head, leaning back slightly. To not feel like people were searching for a sign that he wasn’t a man. And most of all he was excited for the grey sweatpants season they were currently in the midst of.

Dewdrop was the first to notice it. He’d waltzed into the common room as Mountain and Swiss were co-opping on Grand Theft Auto, trying to deliver drugs, or something. Dew couldn’t have cared less about the antics on the screen, his eye was immediately caught by the bulge sitting pretty in Swiss’ lap. That’s new, he thought, scheming. It was unmistakable, the thick fabric bunched up at the faint outline of the silicone, jutting out in his lap. It was just inviting Dew, taunting him to sit on it and wriggle to his heart’s content.

“Hey big boys, whatcha playing?” he asked, feigning interest in the game.

“Just helping deliver Mounty’s weed supply, droplet, you okay?” the multi ghoul replied.

Dew made a hrmph before responding, “Yeah just had a bad day, ‘s all.” His day had been fine but he knew Swiss would immediately invite him for cuddles if he said those words. The multi ghoul cared so deeply for his pack. It was easy to pin him down as ‘the horny one’ but it went so much deeper than that. His love language was acts of physical affection, he relished in helping his partners relax, and in showing them they’re worthy of love, and orgasms.

Swiss didn’t utter a word as he threw the controller on the arm of the chair before outstretching his arms for Dew to sit on his lap. He leaned back as he did so, straining the sweatpants over his cock, making Dew’s mouth water. The fire ghoul tried not to look too happy as he launched into Swiss’ lap, their chests touching as Dewdrop could feel the firm fabric of Swiss’ binder beneath his shirt. He threw his arms over Swiss’ shoulders, cradling his head in the multi ghoul’s neck, breathing in his scent. He could feel the packer poking him through their clothes, teasing his entrance. It was going to be different from his usual ploy of getting the ghouls hard beneath him, but it would be worth it to see the wet patch Swiss leaves behind when the multi ghoul finally gives in and drags him to the nearest bedroom.

“Mm thanks, Switchblade,” he chirped as he picked up the controller to hand it back to the multi ghoul. Dew was so slight that Swiss could easily continue playing even with the small ghoul koala-hugging him.

Swiss couldn’t easily continue playing, however, when Dew began to subtly grind his hips into him. It was barely perceptible at first, perhaps a comfort stim for the anxious ghoul atop his thighs. But he kept doing it, becoming more insistent with every movement, hips circling his oh- circling his packer. He was certain if he had any feeling in the silicone sitting flush against him, he’d feel Dewdrop dripping onto him.

“You alright, lovebug?” Swiss probed, delighted at the attention he was garnering from just being his true self.

“Mhm, just thought your lap looked inviting,” he muttered into Swiss’ neck, hips moving with reckless abandon as Mountain was engrossed in outrunning the looters stealing his drop. “Ah- fuck, you’re so big, baby,” he whined into the multi ghoul’s ear, “Can feel every inch of you. Bet you’re begging to get inside me, hmm?” he teased.

With that, Swiss dropped the controller on the floor, leaving Mountain to fend for himself. “Lucky for you, firefly, this isn’t the only package that arrived today,” Swiss grinned, placing a kiss between Dew’s horns, “Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll quickly find out exactly how big I am,” he grunted.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” the fire ghoul chuckled, sure his cunt was soaking through his own sweatpants and onto Swiss’. He couldn’t wait to get up and see the dark patch he’d marked the multi ghoul with; once a water ghoul, always a water ghoul.

Swiss was wet too, the silicone pressing nicely against his tiny cock, but the party in his head was miles better than the one in his pants. The euphoria he felt at Dew grinding on him like he really had a dick, like he’d seen him do to the other ghouls, Aether, Mountain, Sunny. The euphoria of having something for Dew to grind against, a tangible object between his legs. Seeing Dew’s blissed out face as he began almost to hump against the packer, it set Swiss’ nerves alight, truly a feeling he’d treasure for eternity.

His gender breakthrough could wait, however, a certain fire ghoul was getting impatient. He stood with ease, large arms cradling Dewdrop as the small ghoul kept his hands wrapped around Swiss’ neck. As they walked down the corridor Dew made a point of bouncing into the squishy toy that was perfectly aligned with his dripping cunt, leaving Swiss groaning and stuttering in his steps.

“Hey, Switchblade, you ever thought about quintessencing that dick of yours? Might be fun,” Dew shrugged as Swiss unceremoniously threw him on the bed. Swiss whined at the idea, how didn’t he think of this before?

“Fuck, baby, I have now,” he growled. Swiss grabbed the green strap, sitting next to Dew as he closed his eyes and made contact with the toy. He could feel his quintessence resisting, maybe he should’ve taken more lessons with Aether.

It took a few minutes, Dewdrop sitting behind the multi ghoul, arms wrapped around for moral support, peppering his clothed back with kisses; quintessence came more easily when a ghoul was relaxed. The strap finally took hold of Swiss’ magick as it had the slightest purple tinge to it, a beautiful contrast to the sage.

“Umm, could you undress me, firefly, I can’t really let go of this now,” Swiss asked, gesturing at the glowing toy in his hand.

“Anything for you, my darling,” Dew replied, flushed a deep red, having already removed his shirt, fresh air hitting the crescent scars on his chest. He bunched Swiss’ white t-shirt up, manoeuvring it through one arm, before getting Swiss to change hands, and remove it fully.

 “On or off, honey?” Dewdrop asked, drawing hearts in the black binder now exposed, hugging Swiss’ chest, tight.

“On. Wanna fuck you like a real man,” Swiss replied.

Dew’s heart broke at the sentence, “Love, you know you’re already a real man, tits or not? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Maybe you think I am, but I don’t feel like one,” Swiss cried, unsure where this was coming from. Perhaps it was because he felt truly safe with Dew, “I don’t have a dick, my tits could win a Miss Universe contest, my clit’s fucking tiny, I’m practically hairless like one of those ugly ass cats Phantom wants, and my voice is higher than Cirrus’, is it any surprise I still feel like a girl?”

“Oh baby, I get it. It’s so hard at the beginning but it will get better, I promise. Do you wanna talk about it or do you wanna fuck me silly? I’m fine either way, remember you don’t owe me anything, yeah?”

Swiss contemplated, before deciding he didn’t quintessence this damn dildo for nothing, “Wanna fuck you,” he whispered.

“What was that, my big boy?” Dew smirked, making a note to properly talk to the ghoul after the scene, he was clearly going through it.

The fire ghoul boxed Swiss against the head of the bed, thighs encasing those of the multi ghoul. “I said I’m gonna fuck you silly for grinding on me in the common room!” he growled, passion reignited.

“That’s more like it. Make me scream, Daddy.” Dewdrop said as he placed a hand over Swiss’ clothed dick, small fingers making the packer look even bigger. Swiss couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips at the sight.

Slowly, Dew began to remove the sweatpants, revealing the bulge in all its glory encased in Swiss’ tight boxer briefs, fine details visible through the fabric; veins and ridges and bumps. The smaller ghoul mouthed at it, before licking a stripe from root to tip and fully undressing the other.

“Shit, Dewdrop you’re gonna make me come before I get inside you at this rate,” he exclaimed, stepping into the harness and affixing the strap, finally able to let go when it was settled in the o-ring.

Swiss gave himself an exploratory stroke, hand enclosing the shaft and moving cautiously to the head, “Oh- fuck- ah- holy Satan below” he exclaimed.

“Quintessence is working then! Just don’t blow your load too early,” Dew chuckled as he gracefully positioned himself on the bed, face down, ass up. The perfect position for Swiss’ first real fuck since coming out.

The multi ghoul squeezed a handful of lube from his bedside before slicking himself up. The stimulation was something else, how cis men did this was beyond him. He was wincing, hissing in arousal before he even got inside the fire ghoul. SIicked up, Swiss lined himself up with Dew’s now bare cunt, beautiful lips glazed with his arousal, inviting Swiss’ cock to make itself at home, to bury himself in it.

And he did, head teasing the entrance as Swiss’ hips stilled to ground himself, basking in the mind-blowing pleasure. He sank in with a moan, watching as Dew’s cunt stretched around his cock, as it weeped, begging for more. He kept going until the fire ghoul’s ass was flush with the harness, and he stopped.

“Fuck- firefly, ‘m not gon- ah gonna last long,” Swiss keened, panting as he tried desperately not to come, thinking of the time he walked in on Primo having a bath, anything to not spill inside the fire ghoul.

“Come on Swiss, I’m not that hot, am I?” he retorted, feeling incredibly full and oh so wet, thoughts he’d keep to himself for now, lest Swiss actually come on the spot.

Both of their efforts were for nothing, however. Swiss thought it was safe, thought he’d imagined enough wrinkly old men to be able to fuck Dew within an inch of his life. The poor multi ghoul lasted three whole strokes, watching the way his cock was swallowed whole by Dew’s folds before his own cunt was clenching around nothing as he near-screeched through his orgasm. He jackhammered into Dewdrop as he worked himself through it, screaming bloody murder at the sensations he was being assaulted with.

“Well, well, well, I didn’t have minute man Swiss on the cards for tonight but Lucifer fuck that was hot. You’ll have to hook me up with my own quinty dick one day,” Dew chimed as Swiss’ thrusts came to a stop, head craning back to look at the multi ghoul. He was sweating buckets, binder nearly off with how much he’d thrashed around, it was a sight to behold.

“Unholy shit, Dewdrop. Need you to come sit on my lap more often.” Swiss panted as he pulled out, cock dripping with Dew’s slick, that he definitely pretended was his own come.

“You certainly fucked me like a man, no woman has ever come that quickly inside of me,” Dew giggled, “You know the rules though, you gotta get me off now.” he added as he moved to lay on his back, legs spread wide, waiting for Swiss’ skilled tongue to lap him up.

Swiss was never one to turn down a meal.

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

In a hole; still digging

Something I didn't mention in two prior posts about Luts: as I've said (ad nauseum), I've been a BJD collector for a few years now. With BJD collecting, there's a lot of - let's call it opaqueness. Den of Angels used to be the foremost authority on all things BJD, and honestly, while there have been tons of theories as to why the forum has lost popularity, I would point to one major factor: when image hosting stopped being free on Photobucket. Seems like as soon as Photobucket ended that particular perk, folks moved to free spaces like Instagram.

But I digress. The point is - this is a seriously niche hobby, and information is thin on the ground. Sometimes, you have to take clues from patterns you see, and after collecting for a few years, I've learned to view deviations from those patterns with a bit of suspicion.

For example: when a company only shows pictures of a doll's face fully painted (no blank photos), and the face is always pointed downwards, I will no longer buy. I need to see front and side/profile pictures of the blank sculpt. Otherwise, I'll get a head with a jarring feature (usually a poorly sculpted nose) that I do NOT like.

If the doll is always dressed, or posed with fancy fabric or props that conceal the joints (especially the knees), I will no longer buy. Chances are decent I'm going to get a doll that doesn't pose well.

Another pattern I've noticed is that the big, established companies tend to sell only their own dolls, and no one else's. Some examples:

Fairyland

Iplehouse:

Dreaming Doll:

There are two reasons I never ordered a doll directly from Luts. 1) There wasn't a sculpt that I just had to have, and damn the consequences (i.e., price).

2) I hesitated because...:

Luts has a "Brand Doll" tab that looks like a doll dealer tab. That's a LOT of brands that aren't Luts. I've seen doll dealers that carry fewer brands.

One of the things I've been told repeatedly is that doll companies are more like studios or machine shops. You are dealing directly with the people who make the dolls. Frequently, it's a 3-4 person operation. They tend to be a little rougher around the edges, and there isn't a dedicated customer service department. (Which is why folks who need customer service should order from dealers.)

So... how does Luts have time to be a dealer for all these other doll companies, and make their own dolls?

Even though I am almost certainly hated by Luts doll collectors, I would like to assert AGAIN that Luts makes gorgeous dolls. I just disagree with how the newer bodies are engineered. Considering the numerous other brands Luts offers for sale on their website? I don't think I'm alone.

Others are likely afraid to say anything bad (small hobby - word travels fast - people get pissed). I OTOH am a cranky old broad who has no issue throwing my big bull ass around the BJD china shop.

ONE HUGE EXCEPTION: VOLKS

Volks is the OG of BJDs. Volks is the GOAT of BJDs. Volks invented BJDs. Volks started life as a hobby company, and BJDs were incorporated into the business. If you're brand spanking new to the hobby and willing to drop a grand or two on a new doll, Volks offers the BEST new collector experience. My first Volks purchase was a dress, and I was stunned by the thought and care that went into the construction. I watched someone unbox a new doll from Volks, and when I then saw a used, complete SD one-off doll on Mandarake for under $600, I snapped it up. It was from 2009 and worth every penny of what I paid.

I completely understand why some people are loyal to and buy from Volks only. Buying a new Volks doll is like buying a new luxury car. Other companies... well, they're a bit more like DIY kit cars sometimes. Which I like! But I don't recommend for new collectors.

I don't shill for Volks because of the price. That's a lot of cheddar to expect from someone who knows nothing about these dolls.