#I could just post the whole script

[old-skyguy]

Look.

Ace Attorney fandom.

I know why people don't like Turnabout Bigtop. I am among the people who dislike Turnabout Bigtop.

But I GET why people like the case. I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who just blindly dump on it because I hate those mfs too.

Thing about Bigtop isn't that it sucks. Thing isn't the weird grooming stuff (though that is a huge part of it). It's not that it could've been good.

It's that - in my personal OPINION - it could have been *great*.

I think it had the potential to be one of the best third cases in the trilogy. It had everything; a fun and goofy setting fit for a pretty dang goofy lawyer game - where the environment itself had jokes and quips and one-liners and mishaps and tomfoolery written all over it, it had the previous case introducing a very interesting and important plotline that gave background for one of the more well-loved characters while also introducing an equally fucked up and lovable new one who was a child forced into a shit childhood of naivete in a CIRCUS with another character who was very naive and childish - whose interactions could have been funny and cute and reflective of said shit from the previous case (seriously she becomes such an important character in the 4th case, WHY would they not include her in this one for some character development? How did they fuck up letting a CHILD explore a CIRCUS?? That would have made the interactions flow MUCH better).

They had a pretty good, sympathetic killer imo, a morally dubious victim, an asshole of a client (who was pretty flat admittedly in-game, but I like his weird, topsy-turvy reasoning for it in the anime. Also, I think Max being kinda a dick would have bode well for the themes of Farewell since most of his clients up to this point have been like...nice? Not nice, but sympathetic, but him having to defend someone who's innocent but a prick would have shown him that just because someone is an asshole, doesn't mean they deserve to suffer for it and that they have the potential to grow as people, which is almost a complete foil to what Matt was. Ultimately, I would have loved the contrast of them as clients and I think it would have also served as character development for Phoenix, especially with his low-empathy tendencies).

They just didn't think that far ahead. They just didn't execute it well enough. They just decided to make three of the adult characters fight for the hand in marriage of a teenage girl. (Bat's part of the story was actually kinda good if he was just YOUNGER, I think him doing that for Regina would have been a stupid thing someone in the circus would do to impress their crush. Damn you Ace Attorney and your weird treatment of underage girls!!)

It just flopped and that's ok.

Even though it kinda sucked, it can still mean something to me.

Also I'm a Moe Curls apologist. I liked him, shut up.

[frankiebirds]

morgan and elle's friendship is so severely underrated and i wish we'd gotten more of them. they go on vacation together! there are also some lines in the first episode that, at least to me, imply that they knew eachother before. morgan is introduced talking to/quizzing trainees, so that seems like the most likely way, but. i don't know. i love them and i would have been curious to see how it would have been elaborated upon had lola glaudini stayed on.

(side note: i love morgan's pose and face in the second screencap. he's so silly)

[vulpine-gentleman]

hello flondon blog i have been working almost all day. let me out.

[deviousdiesel]

.

[goldenhour-s]

the way i wish my game was in english so i could do cute gameplay posts using its notifications etc. 💔

[livelaughlovebeinggod]

This post is for the people who are procrastinating on applying the law or for those who need a wake up call. ‼️

what if you had never found the law?

Or let's say there's a parallel reality where you never stumbled upon the law of assumption. That you with the same circumstances but without the knowledge of the law, how would they have felt? For many, it would feel like their horrible reality would never change, how helpless they must be feeling, thinking about all the hardwork they need to do in order to achieve something, thinking that there's no shortcut to life and they've to do far more than just lifting a finger, they've to chase after life relentlessly just to live their dreams and the list goes on...all this just because they're limited in their mind, they're not aware of just how powerful their mind and their assumptions are, just because they're not aware that they can have absolutely anything and everything just by assuming they have it. They would have lived their entire life feeling like they've no control over their life, having that hope that maybe one day it would all change but unfortunately it never does. You come to your last stage of life with nothing but regrets because you wanted to do so many things but either didn't have the time or you just didn't have the courage to "take action" on them.

Seems horrifying? It is.

Now let's flip the script!

GOOD NEWS!

YOUR LIFE IS NOT THE WAY I DESCRIBED ABOVE.

You're blessed and lucky enough to have the knowledge about the law of assumption. I would have certainly felt helpless and hopeless if i didn't know about the law of assumption with my circumstances, i would've felt like giving up but this is not the case, I know about the law, i know it IS possible to have the life of my dreams and more, oh how blessed i am. Then why the hell am i procrastinating on doing the bare minimum?! imagine the things you would have to do in order to achieve those dreams if you didn't know about the law? Damn I'm exhausted even thinking about it! But guess what? With the law, u know all you have to do is just assume it's already done and persist! You don't have to even lift a finger let alone doing anything more than that. It's this easy.

Just think about it.

It's that easy so why are you procrastinating or why are you not taking accountability and changing your life? YOU LITERALLY CANNOT BE MORE BLESSED THAN THIS. Like imagine getting whatever you want with just your assumptions?! Even a fairytale falls short of what cheat code we know now. You're not realising just HOW FREAKING LUCKY AND POWERFUL YOU ARE.

This is not just a post to motivate you, this is a WAKE UP CALL, I'm calling you out rn and telling you to end this cycle, NOW. I need you to step aside from ur phone or Tumblr after you've read this post and just think about it, what are you doing? You could be living ur dream life by now if u had just applied the law and stayed consistent with it but here you are, consuming more loa content as if it's all not just the same information you've read a hundred times. The law is simple, too simple actually.

DECIDE YOU HAVE IT & PERSIST. THAT'S IT.

There's no other magical information out there, you WILL NOT get your desires if you don't apply the law. It cannot get easier than this. There are people who don't have ANY idea about the law, they're living a limited life, but you? You know about the thing people would sell their souls just to find out about it, and here you are still procrastinating as if you don't actually hold the power of the whole universe inside your mind and all you need is a decision and commitment to that decision.

It's either you decide to CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND FINALLY END THIS CYCLE or GET THIS LOOP GOING FOREVER. It's upto you. No one's coming to save you and it doesn't have to be scary, no one's coming to save you because you're enough to save yourself. You've all the power you'll ever need. Stop doubting your power. Actually applying the law and being consistent is scary and hard because your mind is too familiar living in hell that even heaven starts to feel uncomfortable but trust me, once you come out of that comfort bubble, you'll see that you were living in a tunnel all your life when there was a whole universe outside waiting for you to come out.

You can do it. Now, GO DO IT.

[nerdycheol]

Rent-A-Boyfriend || SVT

💘 a rental romance series 💘

divider by @cafekitsune

Thank you for 500 followers (I still can’t believe it 🥹)! To celebrate, I’m dropping something special—a series that started with a single unhinged thought:

what if you could rent a fake boyfriend from an app... and accidentally caught feelings?

🌟 COMING SOON (3rd July): I’ll be posting each one as a standalone drabble—but all under the same theme, so you can binge your faves or pick your bias. Hope you enjoy renting them as much as I enjoy writing them 💌

rent a boyfriend here! | join my permanent taglist

Choi Seungcheol

Your parents wanted someone respectable on your arm at a high-stakes gala. You expected charm, maybe a few photo ops—but Seungcheol treats the event like a high-stakes operation. He’s subtly steering you through crowds, keeping a protective eye on your every move. It was supposed to be for show—but the way he moves around you says otherwise.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Yoon Jeonghan

What starts as a petty plan to provoke your situationship quickly spirals when Jeonghan decides he has his own agenda. He’s charming, persuasive, and far too good at playing the part—but he doesn’t stop there. Suddenly, he’s helping with little schemes, showing up uninvited (but never unwelcome), and somehow ends up making himself at home in your life—and on your couch.

rent here

Joshua Hong

You needed someone who could blend in at your cousin’s picture-perfect wedding—filled with watchful eyes and whispered prayers. Joshua fits the mold effortlessly, all soft smiles and perfect manners. But in between performances, his glances linger, his concern feels too genuine, and suddenly, you’re not sure what’s part of the act—and what isn’t.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Wen Junhui

A language barrier seemed like the easiest way to avoid awkward small talk during your solo trip abroad. Jun arrives looking like a dream, translator app in hand and eyes full of curiosity. You expect distance—but instead, you find connection in shared silences, quiet gestures, and the way he always seems to be right by your side.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Kwon Soonyoung

You hired him to be someone else’s fake boyfriend—your best friend, who deserved a reminder of what good love looks like. Hoshi steps in like a rom-com lead, full of energy and affection. The only problem? He thinks you’re the one he’s supposed to impress. And somehow, along the way… he starts to.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Jeon Wonwoo

A harmless lie at work spirals when your coworkers demand proof of your made-up boyfriend. Enter Wonwoo, quiet and composed, playing the part a little too well. He blends into the scene with soft smiles and subtle touches—until the night takes a turn and he draws the line between fake and real with unexpected conviction.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Jihoon

Showing up alone would’ve been too sad, but bringing a boyfriend would’ve been too obvious. That’s why you brought an ex—specifically, a painfully attractive one. Woozi plays the role with precision: cold, indifferent, just the right amount of sting. But then he starts going off-script, and the lines between act and intention start to blur.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Xu Minghao

Your boss wouldn’t stop bragging about their plus-one for the art gala, so you decided to show up with your own. Minghao arrives sharp-tongued and sharper dressed, casually dissecting every sculpture and sparking debates like it’s his job. Somewhere between holding your hand and calling your boss pretentious, he becomes the main exhibit of the night.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Kim Mingyu

You signed up for a fake-dating challenge as a joke, something light and temporary. Mingyu shows up with the whole boyfriend starter pack—cooking, cleaning, carrying your groceries like a pro. It’s all fun and games… until the cameras are off and people start asking when the two of you became real.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Seokmin

You hired him to get your mom off your back. DK is everything she could want—thoughtful, helpful, maybe a little too perfect. He wins over your family like it’s second nature and somehow slips into your life with ease. You tell yourself it’s all pretend, but the little notes he leaves behind suggest otherwise.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Boo Seungkwan

What started as a plan to one-up your ex turned theatrical fast. Seungkwan doesn’t just play the role—he builds an entire storyline, complete with shared memories and inside jokes you didn’t know you had. He’s loud, proud, and fully committed. But beneath all the drama and performance, you start to catch moments that feel a little too genuine to be fake.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Choi Vernon

You weren’t expecting much when you booked the cheapest option on the app. Vernon is quiet, hands in his pockets, and doesn’t try too hard. But there’s something about the way he listens—really listens. Every so often, he says something that cuts through the noise, soft and sincere, and makes you forget this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Chan

You just wanted practice—a rehearsal date to work through the nerves before the real thing. He arrives with cue cards, a practiced smile, and way too much enthusiasm. At first, it’s all predictable, even a little awkward. But somewhere between his over-prepared charm and unexpected confidence, he flips the script—and suddenly, it feels less like a test run and more like the real deal.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

© nerdycheol. Please respect the creator — do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

[bioshockey]

ok. how does one start a rp blog thing

[littledykeblue]

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐/𝟒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍)

──𝐌𝐘 𝐏.𝐔.𝐍.𝐊. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋;

(frontman!jinx x groupie!reader): you are what some people would call obsessive about your favorite band; and you finally get the chance to realize all of your dreams when you end up in the home of jinx lanes.

PART ONE HERE!

wc: 9k | cw: lead vocalist!jinx, loser groupie!reader, generally rough sex, dom bottom!jinx, biting, hair-pulling, dacryphillia, begging, rope play (r! tied up), vibrator (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (r! & j!receiving), overstim, edging, dry humping, piercings, MINORS DNI.

note: i was wayyy to eager to get to jinx's part so i gotta do it now! vi is up next and im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. also holy shit somebody was getting Freaky writing this.

You would confidently dub yourself Hotwired’s biggest fan. You’ve been around since the very beginning, back when they were just two sisters in their dad’s garage, crafting the songs that would one day become their greatest hits. You were at their first ever show (at a shitty bar with a busted PA system), and you’ve kept every single ticket stub since. 

When they brought on the mysterious, masked C.K., you were there. When they had a brief fallout, cancelled their slot at Riot Fest, and went offline for six months? You were there. For every single bit of the whole stealing Sevika from her old band, Blood Feud, you were right there in every thread and underneath every discussion post.

Your collection of signed merch is practically priceless now, stuff newer fans would probably commit crimes for. You run a well-known fan blog that’s updated religiously, mostly dedicated to the band’s chaotic, blue-haired frontwoman: Jinx.

Your bedroom is a shrine. Posters on every wall, records lined up on your shelves, a glass case dedicated to your wristbands and setlists and polaroids. Everyone who knows you is beyond tired of hearing about them, and especially tired of hearing about her.

Jinx Lanes. All attitude, no brakes. She says what she wants, does what she wants, flips off the cameras while doing it. You’ve seen every stage interview, every grainy fan clip, every viral moment where she’s either flashing the crowd or starting a fake fight with Vi for fun. She’s a full-on nightmare and you are obsessed. You’ve got painfully vivid daydreams where she picks you out of the crowd, grins that feral little grin, and takes you home to ruin your life in the best possible way.

Unfortunately, that fantasy’s still just that. A fantasy.

You go to every show, sure, but it’s not like you’re balling on VIP money. If it’s not your birthday or some kind of Hotwired-related anniversary, you’re usually stuck somewhere in the middle of the crowd. Lost in the sea of people screaming her name. Completely invisible.

You’ve accepted it, mostly. The truth that the girl you’ve spent years loving from afar probably doesn’t even know you exist. And if she does? You’re just another fan. Another face in the crowd.

But the thing about Jinx is, she’s never been great at sticking to the script.

Your first actual meeting with her (outside of the brief signings where you were quickly ushered away to make room for the ridiculously long lines) is not nearly as glamorous as in any of your many, many daydreams. 

It’s early afternoon, middle of the week, and you’re leaning against your car, waiting for your latest post to upload, when you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up, ready to size up whoever’s headed your way—only to nearly choke on your own spit.

Standing in front of you is Jinx. Jinx fucking Lanes.

She’s got on these huge sunglasses and a spiked beret; neither do a great job at hiding who she is. Though, you like to think you’d be able to recognize her in a heartbeat either way. She’s looking up at you over the rim of the glasses with those big blue-gray eyes.

“Hey, could you do me a huge favor?” she asks, barely giving you time to react. “So, like—I’m kinda famous, and these annoying-ass guys have been following me around trying to get a picture. Normally I’d just cause a scene and smash their gear, but apparently I’m supposed to be on my best behavior or whatever. Look, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

She talks fast, like the words are trying to outrun each other, and you’re pretty sure you only catch about half of what she actually says.

“You’re…you’re Jinx Lanes,” you manage to get out, brain still buffering.

Her shoulders drop a little and her arms cross defensively, like she’s bracing for impact. “Yep. That’s me. You gonna sell me out?”

“No! No, of course not,” you blurt out, instantly panicked at the idea. “I’m just—I’m a huge fan. You’re literally my number one artist. I think you’re a brilliant songwriter—”

“Think I’m brilliant enough to give me a ride?”

Right. Right. You remember the whole reason this conversation is even happening and nod so fast it might give you whiplash. “Oh my god. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I’m just—this is kind of insane. Get in, please.”

You know you’re talking too fast and probably too loud, and your heart feels like it’s turning into soup in your chest. This is not how you imagined this moment going. You’re supposed to be in the perfect outfit, front row, stage lights casting that soft glow, and Jinx points to you mid-song during Pretty Punk Girl, so taken by your killer look and smooth moves that she hauls you on stage.

Instead, she’s climbing into your car, and you’re cringing as her boot knocks over some half-empty water bottle and an embarrassing tangle of receipts and snack wrappers. So much for the cool, effortless fantasy.

Whatever. Sue you for not being perfect.

You pull out of the parking lot with slightly trembling hands, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jinx is in your passenger seat. Your initial plan had just been to go home, maybe heat up leftovers and reblog a few photos of Hotwired’s last show. But now?

Now your number one obsession is sprawled out beside you like this is no big deal. You suppose that, maybe for her, it really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure whether your should be impressed or deeply concerned with how easily she got into the car with a stranger.

You hesitate at the first red light, your blinker ticking away as you try to stall and think of somewhere else to go. You can’t just…take her back to your place. That would be insane. Not because you’re ashamed or anything—everyone who knows you knows you’re obsessed—but there’s a difference between being a dedicated fan and opening the door to what’s basically a museum of her face.

That kind of devotion might be just a little much in person.

You risk a glance out of the corner of your eye and immediately regret it. Jinx has her boots kicked up on the dash, scuffed black leather creaking slightly as she adjusts. Her legs are bare and pale and stretch impossibly long out from the cut-offs she’s wearing. Your gaze drifts up to where her low-slung shorts sit, a few teasing inches of toned stomach peeking out under her cropped tee. Ink clouds curl around her navel, disappearing into the waistband. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

She's busy on her phone, thumb flying across the screen with streaks of chipped pink and blue polish. Completely unaware—or at least pretending not to notice—that you’re openly staring like a deer in headlights.

You clear your throat quickly, whipping your head forward as the light flips green. “So, uh…where exactly should I be going?”

“Right. Lemme just—” she leans over, not even asking before tapping on your car’s GPS with all the casual confidence of someone who doesn’t hear the internal screaming going on beside her. “There.”

You glance down at the glowing screen, squinting at the address. “Is that…your house?”

“Yep.” She pops the p, still tapping away on her phone. “Hope you don’t mind playing chauffeur for a bit. I’ll even give you five stars.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, like your brain isn’t short-circuiting. “No problem. Totally normal day.”

Jinx finishes typing something out on her phone and tosses it carelessly into the cupholder. Then she leans back, kicking her boots off the dash and turning her head toward you. "Play something," she says.

You glance at her. “Anything you’re in the mood for?”

Jinx hums. “I dunno. Surprise me.”

You hesitate for half a second before asking, “Are you opposed to hearing your own stuff?”

“God, no,” she scoffs, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I love the sound of my own voice.”

You huff a laugh and scroll through your playlist until you find the first track in the “Hotwired: Timefracture Saga” queue. You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The opening guitar riff of Parallel Hearts spills into the car and Jinx perks up immediately, grinning like you just handed her a slice of cake. “Oooh, you’re going deep cuts on me, huh?”

“I’m committed to the bit,” you say, trying to sound cool and not like you’re slowly melting into the driver's seat. The idea of singing Jinx’s song in front of her in real life? Literally unreal. Your hands are already sweating.

But then the first verse starts and your body knows what to do. You belt it out with the kind of confidence that only comes from listening to a song approximately nine thousand times. To your amazement, Jinx doesn’t just let you carry it. She joins in with all the same energy she brings on stage.

The two of you blast through the first two songs—Parallel Hearts and Phantom Frequency—loud and off-key and gloriously dramatic. When the final chorus ends, Jinx turns in her seat to look at you, visibly impressed.

“Okay, wow,” she says, a little breathless. “You maybe you really are my biggest fan.”

You shrug like it’s not the best compliment you’ve ever received. “Yeah, I mean, I kinda know everything there is to know.”

That gets a raised brow. Jinx smirks, already shifting in her seat like she’s ready to stir shit. “Everything?”

You nod. Maybe a little smug.

“Alright, fan club president,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Pop quiz time. Let’s see if you’re full of shit.”

You don’t even blink.

She fires off the first question. “What city did we play our first sold-out show in?”

“New Orleans,” you say immediately. “At a place called The Violet Room. You jumped off the drum kit and nearly broke your ankle. It was the first time you guys ever performed Despair Girls live. It was magical.”

“Fuck, all of that’s true,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Okay. What’s Vi’s pre-show ritual?”

“She does five push-ups and kisses her guitar. That’s child’s play.”

Jinx laughs. “Okay, try this one out. What’s the first song I’ve ever written?”

“Easy. I Love You, Dad. You wrote it when you were thirteen for your dad’s birthday and you and Vi performed it for him. If I recall correctly, there were tears?”

“Holy. Shit.” She flops back against the seat and looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. “You should be like an interviewer or some shit. Wait…are you an interviewer? Tabloid?”

You shake your head. “Nah. Just a fan,” you answer, drumming your fingers on the wheel to the song playing quietly now. “I found you guys pretty early on, when it was just you and Vi. I was hooked from then.”

“Alright, alright. One more. Let’s see if you know this one,” she says, leaning in like this one is going to be her real ace up the sleeve. “What is C.K.’s real identity?”

“Oh, come on! Nobody knows that except you guys and even that’s me speculating!”

She throws her head back and laughs, wild and delighted and loud, and for a second you feel a weird flutter of something between adrenaline and affection. “I know, I know. I just had to get one over on ya. I don’t like to lose, superfan.”

You can’t help but join in on her laughter. Then, you feel the sudden need to explain yourself. “I-I hope you don’t think I’m some kinda freak, now. Like, I’m not gonna turn into some crazy stalker or anything. I believe in ethical obsession…with your music! And your whole persona.”

“Nah,” she says, grinning out the window. “Kinda hot, actually.”

Eventually, the road curves around a sharp bend and there it is: a tall iron gate flanked by brick pillars, ringed with ivy, with a small keypad mounted on the side. You ease to a stop in front of it, unsure of what comes next, until Jinx leans fully across the center console to punch in the code herself. Her body brushes yours and you go rigid on instinct, hands glued to your lap as if moving them might set off some kind of alarm.

Her weight is warm, surprisingly solid. You keep your eyes forward but your gaze betrays you, flicking down to take in the bare skin of her lower back as her cropped shirt rides up. A little tattoo rests there, inked just above the waistband of her low-slung shorts. 

You recognize it immediately. It’s the grinning robotic monkey from Hotwired’s first album cover. It’s crude in a way that feels personal, a perfect fit for her. You catch a whiff of her perfume as she leans over you, warm and sweet, cinnamon-spiced and dizzying. It makes your fingers twitch where they’re clenched, white-knuckled, against your thighs.

Just when you think your heart might give out from sheer sensory overload, Jinx pulls away and settles back in her seat. “Full speed ahead,” she says, casually, and you try to follow that directive but end up hitting the gas a little too hard. The car jerks forward before you recover, easing up and offering a weak laugh. She doesn’t say anything about it, but you catch her smirk from the corner of your eye.

The gates swing open and you cruise slowly up the long, curved driveway. At the top of the hill, her house comes into view. Less mansion, more mini palace. Sleek, modern lines dressed up in stone and glass, surrounded by manicured hedges and little bursts of wildflowers. From the outside, it doesn’t scream rockstar, but the gated privacy and oversized front door definitely whisper it.

You park at the top and cut the engine, hands hovering awkwardly as Jinx climbs out. She stretches with a groan, then slams the door shut and starts heading toward the entrance. Halfway there, she turns and sees you still frozen in the driver's seat. She lifts her arms with an incredulous little laugh.

“You coming, or are you gonna sit there until I drag you out?”

That shakes you loose. You hop out, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary, trying not to let your nerves show. Jinx jogs the rest of the way up and punches in a different code at the front door before swinging it open. She steps inside first and flicks on a light.

The interior hits you like a wall of color and chaos. It’s loud and messy and perfect, a curated kind of maximalism that looks like someone raided every vintage shop in a tri-county radius and made it work through force of will. 

Sunken couches in mismatched colors, shag rugs layered over each other like someone couldn’t choose, neon signs and lava lamps and velvet posters that are definitely original prints. There’s an old jukebox in the corner that might actually work and a huge blown-up shot of the band’s first Rolling Stone cover takes up half the wall behind the couch. You see guitars hung like art and a massive wall-mounted shadowbox of ticket stubs, backstage passes, and little bits of confetti sealed in resin. A few shelves are crammed with Hotwired memorabilia, some of it rare enough that you actually gasp a little.

Jinx sweeps her arm out in a grand, over-the-top flourish. “Welcome to the madhouse. Make yourself at home.”

You step in cautiously, like you’re walking through the most holy of places. It’s hard to believe any of this is even remotely real; you sneak and pinch the back of your hand, praying you don’t suddenly wake up. 

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. All you can think is: holy shit, you’re in Jinx’s house.

You can't help yourself. The second Jinx gives the okay, you're flitting from corner to corner like a sugar-high kid let loose in a toy store. There’s just so much to take in. 

You zero in on a glass display case near the stairs, pressing your hands to the glass as you stare down at what looks like one of Jinx’s stage costumes from their third tour—the blue leather jacket with the jagged, mismatched patches and the “KISS ME, COWARD” painted across the back. “This is from the Bright Lights, Bloody Knuckles tour,” you say, breath catching. “You wore this in Chicago and then again in Paris, but the patch on the left shoulder wasn’t torn off until the Tokyo show so it’s the only one sewn on with red thread. Vi’s work, I’m assuming.”

You’re not really assuming. You know this as fact.

Jinx whistles low. “Damn. I still can’t believe you know your shit like this.”

You glance over your shoulder, sheepish, but your feet are already carrying you to the next treasure. There’s a line of guitars, none of them in cases, just propped up like art along the back wall. One of them is Jinx’s first—a cherry red Gretsch with cracked lacquer and band stickers peeling at the edges. Another is Vi’s, the body all scratched up and scuffed from a thousand drunken stage dives. 

You spot a limited run vinyl from one of your other favorite punk bands and let out an embarrassing little gasp. “Wait, can I just ask: was the whole Hollow Vow/Hotwired friendship real? Or were you guys playing it up for the camera?” you ask, pointing.

“Fuck yeah,” Jinx grins. “You probably already know this, but they were the first legit band to give us a chance. Let us open for them and shit. Total weirdos. Great energy.”

There’s a wall-mounted rack of signed magazine covers—Spin, Rolling Stone, NME, even Teen Vogue, from that one brief moment where Hotwired was just two teenage girls making their way across the west coast. “That cover got us so much hate mail,” Jinx says, sidling up behind you. “You’d think we pissed on someone’s grandma.”

You laugh, almost nervously, finally starting to feel a little more grounded in the whirlwind that is her house. But then you realize how much you've been talking, how fast, and how completely unhinged you probably sound. You snap your mouth shut before you can rattle off which Spin article has your favorite quote.

When you glance back at Jinx, she’s watching you. Just looking, head tilted like she's figuring you out. And then, casually as anything, she says, “You wanna go for a dip?”

You blink at her. “What?”

“Hottub,” she replies, already turning toward a side door that you hadn’t even noticed before. “Consider it part of my payment for the ride. I’m going either way, so if you wanna come, bring your fine little trivia brain with you.”

“I don’t—I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” you say, instinctively glancing down at yourself like one might spontaneously materialize.”Not really a, uh, car essential.”

Jinx scoffs, her smirk practically criminal. “So? Get naked. I’m not shy.”

The very idea has your brain going horribly blank. You go visibly stiff, body locking up entirely against your will. She laughs—loud and genuine.

“Okay, okay. Jesus,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “You can just go in your underwear. I’ve got robes and a dryer. It’s not a big deal.”

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The idea of being that close, in so little, with her is almost enough to make you reconsider. But you’re not dumb enough to pass this up. An honest to god once in a lifetime possibility was just dropped into your lap and you would never be able to forgive yourself should you let it slip through your fingers. 

You nod, slow and shaky, then offer a small, breathless, “Okay.”

Jinx gives you a look like she’s thoroughly amused by your entire existence. “Cool. You can go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec..” She disappears up the grand staircase, taking them two at a time and you just stand there for a beat, silently trying to remember how to walk.

You strip down to your underwear in the living room, folding your clothes into a neat little stack on the edge of the couch like that somehow makes this entire situation feel less insane. At least you wore something cute. Matching set, soft cotton, nothing too showy but still enough that you won’t die of embarrassment. 

You head through the door Jinx showed you just moments ago and find a stone hottub that looks like it probably cost a small fortune. There’s chairs surrounding it and the whole thing overlooks the equally stunning pool. 

The evening air is cool but not cold, and you’re grateful for it when you climb the short steps and settle into the hot tub’s edge.

You turn the jets on, feeling them whir to life beneath your legs, and sink in. The water is still warming up but it feels nice, soothing the weird ache in your limbs from how tense you’ve been since Jinx got in your car. You keep your arms propped on the edge, head tilted back, eyes on the stars above because it’s easier than staring down the panic creeping up your spine.

Then you hear the door slide open.

You glance up and immediately forget how to breathe.

Jinx steps outside holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. She’s changed, if you could call it that. Her bikini is leopard print and tiny, and very, very familiar. You recognize it instantly from the “Trashy Punk Drunk” music video where she sang an entire verse while riding a mechanical shark. Seeing it in person, on her body, is borderline unfair.

“Like what you see?” she asks, already grinning as she gives you a slow, exaggerated twirl. The light catches on her pale skin, almost giving her an otherworldly glow. You catch a glimpse of the small navel ring you hadn’t noticed before, the dip of her hips, the tattoo wrapping her rib cage.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“You look—uh. Nice,” you manage, mentally kicking yourself as the words come out. “Really, um. Good. Like...sexy. Really sexy.”

Jinx barks out a laugh, delighted, and finally hands you a glass before she steps into the water. “I knew you were cute, but this is adorable.” She taps the rim of your flute with hers and then sinks into the hot tub beside you, head tipping back with a satisfied sigh as the bubbles start to build around her. “You’re lucky I’m such a sucker for awkward.”

You take a long sip of champagne and try not to combust.

She reaches over to set the temperature gauge a few degrees higher, her fingers dancing casually across the digital screen, and then she settles in with her arms outstretched along the back of the tub. One arm brushes against yours. It takes every ounce of your self-control not to flinch.

“So,” she says, eyes flicking your way with a lazy smirk, “you come here often?” Despite it obviously being a joke, her voice still comes out as a purr that sends a shameful wave of arousal through you. It’s a good thing you’re already wet. 

You let out a breath and do your best to match her casual. “Can’t say that I do.”

Jinx hums, pleased, and takes another slow sip. “Glad you are.”

You take another sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles fizzle down your throat, and risk a glance at Jinx from the corner of your eye. Her legs are kicked up in the water, toes just breaking the surface, and her head is resting lazily against the lip of the hot tub. She looks...content. Maybe a little tired, in that way people get when they’ve finally exhaled after holding their breath for too long.

You turn toward her a bit. “Hey, can I ask you something kind of personal?”

Jinx cracks one eye open. “Shoot.”

“Do you, like...regularly invite strangers into your house? Or am I, like, special?”

She huffs a small laugh and stretches her arms behind her head, chest lifting slightly above the bubbling water. “Not usually. Though, to be fair, I make a lot of bad choices. So the answer’s not always no.” She glances over at you, smile crooked. “You were adorable, though. And passionate. And you don’t really seem like the psycho killer type yet. You haven’t even asked me for an autograph yet and you’re my little superfan..”

You laugh, flustered but warm. “I try.”

Jinx shrugs a shoulder, her expression softening. “And...I dunno. It’s been a minute since I’ve talked to someone who wasn’t in my band or working PR or trying to sleep with ‘Jinx Lanes.’” Her voice lowers slightly, sincerity bleeding through. “You’re very easy to be around.”

You nod. “You’re pretty cool like this, too. Just so you know.”

She nudges her shoulder into yours, that playful grin finding its way back. “Flatterer.”

You grin right back, nerves slowly unspooling.

“Wanna know something only, like, two people know about me?” she asks after a beat, turning a little more toward you, her leg brushing yours under the water. “A little treat to add to your endless trivia?”

“Obviously.”

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice a half-whisper like someone might be listening. “I actually graduated with a degree in astrophysics.”

Your jaw drops. “No shit?”

“No shit,” she says proudly, lifting her glass in a little cheers to herself. “Top of my class, too.”

You blink. “Wait—what? How did you go from literal rocket science to fronting a punk rock band?”

Jinx’s smile dims just a little, not sad exactly—more nostalgic. “Vi. I always thought she’d do something like this. Big stage, screaming fans, y’know? When the band started getting traction, she didn’t want to do it alone. In fact, said she’d only go for it with me. And I figured...why the hell not? I’d already chased one dream. Why not try another if it meant doing it with my sister?”

“That’s actually amazing,” you say, your voice softer now. “How’d you manage to keep that one under wraps?”

“Oh, I looked a hell of a lot different then and, obviously, my real name’s not Jinx Lanes.” 

“You know, you’re making it really hard not to idolize you,” you whisper. And you’re not really sure why you’re whispering. It may have something to do with just how close Jinx is to you. “Not—not in, like, a weird way. Just, uh, just like the normal amount. Because you’re so cool and so pretty and now I know you’re, like, a genius and stuff and…yeah.”

There’s a pause.

You’re both looking at each other, water bubbling around you, glasses half full and the night wrapping its arms around the deck in a quiet hush. Jinx’s eyes are a little softer than usual, lips parted slightly as if caught between a smile and something else. You think she might say something, but instead, she just leans in.

And you meet her halfway.

The kiss is slow and warm, hesitant at first like neither of you is sure how long it’s been coming. Her lips taste like champagne and spearmint, and the second your hand drifts up to cup her cheek, she sighs into it. “I do so very like being worshiped,” she says against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip.

Jinx floats over into your lap like she belongs there, legs slung carelessly over one of your thighs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hands find your chest, sliding over the swell of your breasts through damp fabric, fingers curling and groping with open hunger. 

She kisses you again, but this time there’s no testing the waters. It’s harder, hotter, more desperate. Her mouth is demanding and slick with champagne, her hips beginning to roll slow and deliberate against your leg. The friction is minimal, but it’s enough to have her sighing into your mouth like she’s already halfway there.

Emboldened by the way she reacts to every tiny movement, you let your hand settle at her hip. The soft give of her flesh beneath your fingers is dizzying, and she doesn’t stop you when you guide her hips, encouraging the rhythm she’s building on your thigh. The way her body grinds down is enough to send heat pooling between your own legs. 

Your other hand moves up without thinking, sliding along her back and up to the base of her neck, where you find the thick roots of those signature twin braids. You grab them—not tight, not yet—but it’s enough to feel them in your grip.

Jinx pulls back just far enough to look at you, eyes bright and wild, lips swollen from the kiss. “If you’re gonna yank ‘em,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Do it hard.”

You hesitate for only a moment, unsure of your own strength, terrified you might misjudge the line and snap the tension in the wrong direction. You give a test tug, just enough to jolt her head back a little, just enough that your mouths part by a fraction. 

But it’s clearly not enough. She lets out a frustrated sound, half growl, half moan, and then she’s crashing back into you, teeth scraping against your lower lip, biting hard enough to draw the sharp tang of blood.

You gasp at the sting, the warmth of it on your tongue, and your fingers clench on reflex. You yank harder, and her head jerks back with a gasp that melts into a laugh, her grin feral. She’s loving this. She’s completely out of her mind with it. You loop one of her braids around your fist and drag her back down into another kiss that’s messier than the last, all spit and tongue and aching need.

Her hips grind down with reckless abandon now, sloshing water over the edge of the tub as her pace stutters. Jinx lets out a broken, breathy cry against your mouth, every muscle in her body going taut. You can feel the tremor in her thighs, the way her whole frame shudders, and your only thought is that you did this. You hold her like that, letting her ride it out, letting her fall apart against you until she’s gasping and trembling and grinning like the devil.

When she finally pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours. Her breath ghosts across your lips, heavy and hot, and her grin is still sharp enough to slice you open. “You’re not so shy anymore, are you?”

You don’t even have words. You’re drunk on adrenaline, dazed and reeling because your idol—your ultimate fantasy—just used your thigh to come. Nothing in your entire life will ever top this.

Jinx leans in close, nipping once more at your bottom lip. “How would you like to take this up to my bedroom?”

You nod, unable to form a proper response to the question.

Jinx hops off your lap and out of the hottub; she can’t get you out behind her quick enough it seems. “Come on,” she says, breathless and giddy, already halfway to the stairs. “Upstairs. Now.”

You stumble after her, legs still shaky, heart trying to catch up. She takes the steps two at a time, half-dragging you in her excitement. You follow with much less grace, feet squelching with every wet step the two of you take.

“Jinx,” you call, panting a little, “we’re still soaked. There’s a literal trail behind us.”

She glances over her shoulder, completely unconcerned. “So? I’ve got a cleaner. Don’t care.” Her eyes flash mischievously. “Besides, maybe I like it better wet.”

You pass wet footprints and little drops of water marking your path, but she doesn’t slow down. You barely catch the door to her bedroom swinging open before she pulls you through it and kicks it shut behind you.

The room is big, chaotic in the way only Jinx’s space could be. Her bedroom is exactly as chaotic and stylish as the rest of the house. But the bed is huge, practically a stage in itself. Thick, crushed velvet sheets stretch over it in deep, electric blue, glowing faintly under the dim lighting. You don’t even want to think about how expensive they probably are.

You hesitate, standing awkwardly at the foot of it, still very aware of how wet your skin is, how your soaked underwear sticks to your body. 

“These are fresh sheets,” you say. “Jinx, seriously—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, already pulling at the knot of her swimsuit bottoms. “You’re cute when you worry about stuff like that.” 

The bottoms peel away from her skin with a soft, sticky sound and hit the floor. She peels off her top next, tossing it in the same direction. And suddenly, she’s naked in front of you, skin flushed, thighs slick, nipples pierced with silver barbells that catch the light.

Your mouth actually falls open.

“Oh, that got your attention,” Jinx teases, climbing up onto the bed on her knees. Her breasts bounce lightly as she moves, each piercing a little glint of danger and temptation. “I’ve got one more, by the way. Wanna see?”

You can’t even answer. You just nod.

She crawls across the bed with unhurried confidence, her knees dragging soft ruts in the velvet as she makes her way to you. You stay frozen until she pushes you back, until your spine hits the mattress and your underwear makes a soft squish against the sheets.

She straddles your hips, and your hands come up instinctively to her thighs—warm, strong, slick where she was grinding earlier.

“Eyes up,” she says with a crooked grin, as she shuffles up your body, her heat growing stronger the closer she gets to your chest…your throat…your mouth.

Then you see it.

Right at the peak of her slick folds, nestled against the swollen pink of her clit, is a small silver ball. Your breath hitches hard enough to make your vision blur.

“Still speechless?” she asks, teasing, hips hovering just above your mouth now. “God, you’re so easy.”

You try to form a reply, but you’re already craning your neck, already reaching up to meet her.

Jinx lowers herself with no hesitation. One hand braces against the wall behind the bed, the other gripping the headboard for leverage as she sinks down onto your mouth, full and flush.

Her taste hits you instantly as her thighs press firm against your cheeks, framing your head. You let your hands settle on her hips, fingers curling tight.

She gasps, loud and unfiltered, then lets out a broken laugh. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, yeah, that’s good.”

The pressure of her against your mouth is intense—your nose buried against her, the piercing rubbing slick against your tongue. Every time she rolls her hips, that little ball brushes you just right. She’s so wet already, and her pace starts unsteady before she finds a rhythm, grinding slow and deep.

You moan into her and feel her thighs tense.

“Damn,” she pants, looking down at you with wild eyes, braid tips brushing your chest. “You keep that up and I’m gonna fall in love or something.”

Your only response is a groan, muffled against her, too far gone to care.

Jinx laughs again, more breath than sound, and plants herself fully down. “Go on then. Let’s see how long I can last.”

You take a steady breath through your nose before burying yourself in her, licking with a wide tongue across the expanse of her pussy. It pulls a cute squeal from her lips and she clenches her legs a little harder around you head. You set a steady pace, making sure to take your time. To commit her every sound and movement to perfect memory.

Jinx rocks her hips forward with more urgency now, chasing friction, chasing that sharp edge she’s clearly been holding back from. Her grip on the headboard tightens, knuckles pale, and her thighs start to tremble against your face.

You’re soaked with her. Your mouth, your chin, your cheeks. Her slick drips down your jaw and onto the crushed velvet beneath you. But all you can think about is that piercing.

You focus on it—rolling your tongue around the little ball at the tip of her clit, tracing tight circles around it, then flicking fast across the sensitive spot it guards. It moves with her, tapping gently against your teeth now and then with a soft, addictive clink. Every time you hear it, feel it bump into your enamel, it makes your brain stutter. You want to taste her forever. Want to see how many times that little piece of metal can make her lose control.

Jinx groans loud above you, throwing her head back. “Shit. Shit, you’re good,” she pants. “Keep that up and I’ll—fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

She grinds down harder, using you now, water sliding down her ribs and dripping from her chest onto your skin. Her piercings swing slightly with the motion, glinting in the low light.

Then her voice cuts through, rough and commanding:

“Slap my ass.”

Your eyes flick up to her in surprise, but she doesn’t slow.

“Do it,” she growls. “And none of that gentle shit. I don’t have time for that.”

You hesitate for a heartbeat—then oblige. Your hand comes up with a firm smack, the sound echoing sharp through the room. She jolts above you and lets out a loud, broken moan.

“Fuck, yeah,” she gasps. “Just like that.”

You do it again, your palm stinging as it connects. Her skin reddens under your touch, and you can feel the way her muscles twitch beneath it. Her rhythm stutters and she bears down harder, barely holding herself up now.

Every moan, every tremble, every word out of her mouth is filthy and desperate. She’s soaked your whole lower face, slick running freely down your chin, her thighs practically shaking on either side of your head. You keep your mouth open and your tongue working. Flicking, circling, teasing that perfect little stud until she’s panting, clawing at the headboard like it’s the only thing anchoring her.

“Shit. Shit! I’m gonna—oh, fuck—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You slap her ass again, harder this time, and she shatters.

She comes with a cry that tears from her throat, full-bodied and raw. Her thighs clamp around your head, her whole body locking up as she grinds down, riding your mouth through it. Her slick floods you, dripping hot and fast over your lips, your chin, soaking the sheets even deeper.

You hold her there, let her grind it all out, hands braced tight on her hips as she rocks and shudders above you. Her breaths are wild, broken little gasps, and her chest heaves like she’s been sprinting.

Eventually, she starts to come down. Her thighs relax. Her grip on the headboard loosens. She slumps forward slowly, catching herself on her elbows above you, braid ends brushing against your collarbone.

She lets out a low, shaky laugh and looks down at you, eyes glassy and satisfied.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. Her eyes stay fixed on you for a beat longer before she lets out one sharp exhale. And then, just like that, her energy flips back on like a switch. The grin spreads across her face again, wicked and electric.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun,” she says, bouncing up onto her knees. “Also, you should really get those wet clothes off. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!”

You sit up slowly, skin sticky with sweat and slick, your head still spinning a little from how hard she came. “That wasn’t your fun?”

“Semantics!” she chirps, already rolling away from you. She crawls toward the foot of the bed, where there’s a battered metal chest tucked underneath. She lifts the lid and immediately starts digging through it, muttering under her breath as she tosses things aside.

“No, not that one...ugh, too much effort...ooh, could be fun...definitely this one.”

You take the moment to peel off the rest of your clothes. Bra, underwear, both soaked through and clinging to you. They land in the same messy pile as Jinx’s swimsuit. Your skin prickles in the cooler air, still flushed from before, and your legs instinctively rub together, already slick with fresh anticipation.

Jinx pops her head up from the trunk like a triumphant raccoon. “Hey,” she says, holding something out of sight in one hand. “You cool being tied up?”

You raise a brow. “Sure. Try anything once, right?”

Her grin widens. “Atta girl.”

She climbs back onto the bed and unceremoniously drops her findings at the base of it: a neatly coiled length of red rope, a small black vibrator, and a strap-on with a deep blue silicone dildo attached. The second she does, you feel a fresh wave of heat bloom low in your belly. Your breath catches slightly, thighs pressing together as your gaze lingers on the toy.

Jinx notices, of course.

“Already squirming,” she says, pleased. “God, you’re so easy.”

She crawls up the bed with deliberate slowness, rope in hand. You raise your arms without being asked, and she kneels beside you, beginning to tie them to the headboard with practiced ease. The rope is soft but firm, just rough enough to remind you that it’s there. The knot is tight, your wrists held snugly apart.

Once she’s satisfied with the tension, she leans down and gives you a long, unhurried kiss—her tongue slipping into your mouth, hands braced on either side of your ribs. The kiss is slower than before, but still hungry, like she’s staking a claim now. When she pulls away, you’re left breathless, chasing the taste of her on instinct.

Jinx slides back down the bed, settling between your thighs like she’s done it a thousand times. Her palms run slowly up your inner thighs, spreading you open.

“I’m leaving your legs free,” she says, kissing the crease of your thigh, then the other. “Which is so nice of me, by the way. But I need you to be good and keep them still, yeah?”

You nod quickly, breath shaky. “Yeah. Okay.”

She hums in approval and leans in, dragging her tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, slow lick.

Your head thunks back against the headboard. “Fuck.”

Jinx grins against you, nosing in deeper. “That’s kinda the idea.”

She keeps her hands on your thighs, gentle but grounding, as she dives back in with unrelenting attention. Her tongue moves with purpose. Circling, lapping, teasing.. She doesn’t rush it, just lets the tension build as you writhe under her, doing your best to keep still even as your legs twitch with every flick of her tongue.

And when she closes her lips around your clit and sucks, you actually gasp, wrists tugging uselessly at the rope. You draw one of your knees up, unsure of what exactly you intend to do with it. 

“Already twitching,” she says, voice muffled. “You’re so fucking cute like this.”

Jinx doesn’t rush.

Her tongue drags slow and deliberate against your clit, her fingers spreading you open to get a better angle. The rope binding your wrists digs in just enough to remind you of how helpless you are like this—laid out, arms stretched above your head, thighs trembling. You try to keep still like she asked, but it’s getting harder by the second.

She hums against you, the vibration making your whole body tense.

“You’re so wet it’s dripping,” she murmurs, grinning as she looks up at you. “It’s like your pussy’s crying for me.”

Your breath hitches, and your hips buck upward before you can stop them.

Jinx slaps your cunt lightly. “I said keep those still.”

“Sorry,” you gasp.

She shakes her head, mock-disappointed, and returns to her work like you’re a puzzle she’s not quite finished solving. Her mouth is merciless: tongue circling your clit in tight, teasing laps, then flattening against it to give you just enough pressure to almost fall apart. Her fingers slip inside you slow and shallow at first, then curling just enough to drag against that sweet spot before pulling back again.

It builds. It burns. Your whole body starts to tighten.

“Jinx—” you warn, voice already wobbling.

She pulls back with a wet pop, her chin shiny. “Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Not yet.”

You whine, body shaking, the denial hitting hard. Your legs twitch, thighs trying to close, but she’s already pressing them back open, settling between them again with that same infuriating smirk.

“You’re gonna be a mess, huh?” she says, almost admiring. “Can’t even take a little teasing.”

“A little?” Your voice cracks, breathless.

She just laughs and reaches for the vibrator.

It’s small and sleek, and she turns it on to a low, steady hum before nestling it right against your clit. You jolt like you’ve been shocked. It’s perfect. Too perfect.

She slides two fingers back inside you and begins to fuck you slow, curling just right—again and again. The vibe stays pressed in place as her free hand comes to pin your hip. You can’t move. Can’t run. All you can do is take it.

The pressure builds too fast. You bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds.

“I—I’m gonna—” you choke.

Jinx immediately pulls the vibe away.

You cry out, full-body shaking as the orgasm rips away from you like it was stolen.

She grins, unbothered. “Oops. Timing’s a bitch, huh?”

You’re panting, chest heaving. “Please.”

“Oh, we’re begging already? Thought you’d have a little more fight in you.”

She repeats the whole thing again—mouth and fingers and vibe—and once more drags you to the brink only to yank it away. You can’t even form words the third time. Your eyes start to water, your hips squirming, desperate for friction.

Jinx looks up and laughs. Full, delighted laughter, like this is the best show she’s seen in weeks.

“You crying, babe?” she coos, tilting her head. “God, you’re so hot like this. Look at you.”

You try to blink the tears away, but they fall anyway, tracing down into your hair.

Her smile turns wicked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your body jerks. “No!. No—please don’t stop.”

She hums, licking her lips. “I dunno. I’ve always been moved by begging.”

You nod, breath breaking apart. “Please, Jinx. Please let me come. I can’t take it, I need it. Need you. I’ll be good, I swear, just…please. Please let me.”

She watches you for a second, then lets out a satisfied sigh. “God, I love when you get pathetic.”

She reaches for the strap-on.

You’re barely coherent by the time she gets it situated on you: adjusting the harness, then placing the vibrator so it presses directly against your swollen clit, held snug by the base of the strap. She climbs back over you, straddling your hips, and leans in to kiss you. Slow, filthy, tongue dragging against yours.

Then she pulls back just enough to speak.

“You wanna come?” she asks, grinding her hips forward just enough to tease the tip against her entrance. “Then do it. But I’m not stopping until I get mine.”

Jinx sinks down onto the strap with a hiss, her fingers digging into your sides as she adjusts to the size, her mouth open, her brow pinched just slightly in that way you now know means she likes it. She rocks her hips once, experimentally, then twice—finding the rhythm.

And then she takes off.

There’s no buildup, no slow tease. She starts fucking herself on you fast and filthy, bouncing with reckless abandon. The sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room, joined by the wet suck of her pussy as she takes every inch. She leans back just a bit, bracing one hand behind her on your thigh for leverage, her other hand squeezing one of her own bouncing tits, fingers brushing over the silver barbell through her nipple.

Your mouth is open but no sound comes out at first—just panting breaths and the electric buzz of the vibrator grinding into your clit, steady and relentless under the base of the harness. Every time she comes down hard, the strap shifts just right and the toy pulses deep against you. It’s impossibly good.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so good at that,” you whine, your hands twitching with the desire to touch her.

Jinx just laughs, wild and breathless. “I know.”

She slams herself down again, harder this time, and your entire body jumps. The vibrator doesn’t let up—it keeps pressing into your clit, low and constant, while Jinx fucks herself like she’s chasing the end of the world.

Her tits bounce with every movement, small and perfect and pierced, the metal flashing in the low light. Her body is slick with sweat or maybe lingering water, thighs trembling slightly from exertion, but she doesn't slow. If anything, she gets rougher.

You’re already close. Too close. That hum against your clit and the friction where her body meets yours is maddening. Every time she grinds down, you swear sparks go off behind your eyes.

Your nails dig into your palm as you orgasm comes rushing into the edges of your body.

“Jinx…Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Oh, please do,” she pants, breath catching. “You earned it.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come hard, almost violently, the orgasm crashing over you in white-hot waves. Your back arches, the rope around your wrists straining as you cry out, legs shaking beneath her. The pressure from the vibrator doesn't stop—it forces you through it, even as your muscles lock and your vision blurs.

But Jinx doesn’t stop.

She keeps going, riding you through it with a desperate rhythm, hips still snapping down, her moans going high and ragged now. She’s losing it, right on the edge.

Your hands twitch, helpless, overstimulated, but she’s using your body like a toy now—her toy.

Her breath stutters. “Shit—shit—fuck—”

And then she falls apart.

She slams down one last time and shudders, hard, crying out as her pussy clamps around the strap and her thighs tremble uncontrollably. She collapses forward with a choked sound, her entire body going limp against you as the aftershocks hit her in waves.

She doesn’t move for a long moment—just pants against your neck, the both of you sweating and tangled and shaking. Her breath is warm on your skin. Her arms wrap around your torso, clinging, grounding herself.

-

Later, the two of you are curled up on her couch again, the chaos of the earlier hours now a warm buzz in your bones. You're both wrapped in oversized robes—hers patterned with flames, yours borrowed and far too soft. Jinx is stretched across the cushions with her head in your lap, her damp braids spilling down over your thighs. She’s playing with your fingers, twisting them gently, brushing her thumb along your knuckles like she’s trying to memorize the shape of them.

She lifts your hand suddenly and bites down on the fleshy part of your palm—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you jolt.

“Ow,” you mutter, staring down at her.

“You’re very biteable,” she says with a grin, nuzzling your wrist like it’s nothing.

You should be floating. You were floating. But now, with your head clear and the room quiet, something heavier settles in your chest. That creeping sense of reality creeping back in. The part where you leave, and she goes back to being Jinx, Jinx, and this all becomes a story you tell yourself on lonely nights to prove it happened.

Jinx stills slightly. Her fingers stop playing. She glances up at you, brows drawn together. “You’re being loud,” she says softly.

“I’m not saying anything.”

She tilts her head. “Yeah, but your brain’s shouting.”

You try to laugh it off, but it comes out thin. “It’s nothing. Just…post-nut clarity. Happens to the best of us.”

She doesn't let it go. “What are you worried about?”

You sigh and meet her eyes. She's watching you too closely.

“That I’ll leave,” you admit, “and you’ll forget I exist. That this was just…a one-time thing with a hot fan and you’ll move on to the next one. And I’ll just go back to normal life, pretending this wasn’t the best night of my life.”

In a truly humiliating turn of events, you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Jinx stares at you a second longer. Then she smirks, gentler this time. “Wow. Dramatic.”

You open your mouth, but she reaches up and tugs your face down so she can kiss you. It’s short, soft, but enough to make your heart lurch.

“I’m not gonna forget you,” she murmurs. “You’re way too fun to play with.”

You blink at her, stunned. “That’s it? That’s the bar?”

“It’s a great bar.” She grins and sits up, snatching her phone from the coffee table. “Now give me your number before you give yourself a heart attack.”

You rattle it off, and she types it in with one hand, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. The moment is cut short by a loud beep from the laundry room.

“Hey, that’s you,” Jinx says. “Clothes are done. Guess I’ve gotta let you go, huh?”

You nod, heart heavy even as you smile. She leans in and kisses your cheek before hopping off the couch.

-

A week later… 

JINX: sending u tix for our vegas show! im gonna ride u into the sunset <33

don’t worry abt plane tix either, mama’s got it handled

Another message follows a few seconds later.

JINX: see you soon, superfan 💋

You don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!!): @izzy-sevika, @shxdy0ariia, @sevikas-whore

[bridalribbon]

(　✶　)　you don't need to be in a good place to shift. you don't need your mental health sorted, your trauma healed, or your life together in neat little compartments. the universe doesn't check your emotional credit score before letting you through. you don't need a method to shift — no elaborate scripts or step-by-step guides that promise results if you follow them to the letter. you don't need to be religious to shift, though if it speaks to you, let it. but the ferryman isn't demanding your prayers as payment for passage. you don't need to be lying in the exact right position, face down like you're worshipping the mattress gods. you don't need a string spelling out the initials of severus snape like a livejournal snapewife of a bygone era. you don't need a ritual dagger primed next to a bleeding heart, candles arranged in perfect circles, or crystals aligned with the phases of the moon. you don't need any of this elaborate theater to shift. the universe isn't impressed by your props.

but tumblr user snktas, i hear you cry through the digital void, what do i actually need to shift? what's the real secret hidden beneath all these methods and rules? buckle the fuck up, because i'm going to strip this down to its bones.

all you need is assumption and intent. that's it. that's the whole thing. you've heard "ignore the 3d" a billion times until it's become white noise in your ears, yeah? actually do it this time. stop treating your current reality like it's carved in stone when it's really just sand you can reshape with your bare hands. assume you are in a different place, assume you're already living as that other version of yourself, and simply be there. feel the weight of that reality settling into your bones like it's always belonged there, because it has. you don't need a fanfare announcing your arrival. you don't need anyone to hold your hand and walk you across a stage while an audience of fellow shifters applauds your breakthrough. you don't need validation posts or success stories to prove you're doing it right. you just need to stop overthinking and do it. slipping into another version of yourself is as natural and effortless as pulling on your favorite coat — the one that fits perfectly, the one that makes you feel like the person you've always known you could be, the person you already are.

the only permission you need is the permission you give yourself. the only method that matters is the one where you decide you're already there and refuse to negotiate with doubt. stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect mindset, the perfect alignment of circumstances. your desired reality isn't a prize you have to earn through suffering or spiritual purity — it's a home you've always had the keys to, as normal as the one you live in now.

[vulchak]

Alright I'm gonna watch the travesty that is the live action httyd. So I'm taking notes like for Lilo and Stitch, and I have the original script, and the original movie pulled up, just to be sure I'm not forgetting anything despite the original httyd being seared into my retinas since age 10

TL;DR written post-watch cause this became like 2,000 words, It's bad, it's horrendous. Pretty much everyone is slightly to horribly out of character, they're all mean and/or stupid. It's mostly the same movie, but every change is for the worse, and everything that's stayed the same is acted and directed MUCH worse.

Berk isn't their home anymore it's just some random island close to the nest, the Red Death isn't fireproof, they still fire into her mouth but there's no reason for it now unless you've seen the original, Astrid is emotionless through the whole thing, none of her anger, passion or any other emotion is here.

Toothless and the other dragons are much less intelligent. The CGI looks like a mobile game ad most of the time. Overall, not a single good thing here, don't bother watching it, let alone giving it money. Go watch the original, or read the books and ignore this fucking insult to animation and to How to train your dragon.

Right off the bat:

"This, is Berk" no the fuck it isn't, that's a moldy pride rock. It's so ugly and, small.

Oh, the sheep isn't even real. What too pussy to use a real sheep? It's a fake one attached to a bell like someone wouldn't notice a real sheep bleating or THE GIANT FUCKING DRAGON TAKING IT. I guess the point was they're keeping the sheep safe from the dragons, then why put out bait? If the dragons don't see sheep they won't attack? Probably? Man idk, it's stupid

The opening monologue too, is just. Soulless. More brief and not an ounce of sarcasm or dry humor. Y'know, a big part of Hiccup's way of speaking

Stoick so far is alright. He's not NEARLY as imposing as his animated counterpart, didn't even recognize him at first. Even with real human proportion limitations, still think they could've done more in the costuming department, at least added some height to him cause rn Hiccup is like, up to his shoulder which just feels wrong

CGI so far looks horrendous, a shot of the dragons setting fire to the village looks like a fucking mobile game ad

Hiccup going to Gobber and that whole little scene is much more clunky here. They've removed basically all the sass and jokes from the scene, from BOTH sides. "They need toothpicks don't they" and "little-er" are gone The latter probably because they knew they severely miscast Hiccup cause this guy doesn't look like the scrawny little loser Hiccup is at the beginning of movie 1

Astrid coming out from smoke instead of walking in front of an explosion is just lame and screams "we didn't have the budget"

And on Astrid, Hiccup going on about how cool she is instead of just the delivery of her name letting us know he has a thing for her, is keeping up the trend of these fuckass remakes really struggling with subtlety and visual storytelling

Alright so Hiccup is a straight up moron now

First of all they're putting WAY too much emphasis on the Astrid thing, it wasn't acknowledged at all until a couple teasing comments from the CHILDREN in the arena, NOT Gobber Second of all, the launcher thing he built. Why the fuck does he firemit twice on purpose, at his fellow vikings? In the original it was an accident, he patted it, the mechanism was too sensitive and fired and hit a viking ON ACCIDENT

All the acting is so incredibly, and I hate using the word but there's no better one I can think of, cringe. It feels like a youtube skit more than a movie

And the delivery is horrible, especially on Gobber. In the original you could tell him and Hiccup were at odds but they still liked each other, Gobber came across as a silly uncle figure, who was still protective, and only became serious when he saw Hiccup was a danger to either himself(running out into a fight he wasn't ready for) or others(accidentally knocking a guy out with his launcher) here, Gobber seems to barely stand Hiccup and Hiccup is no better towards him

Okay just don't tell us the Monstrous Nightmare sets itself on fire, alright, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THEN?? (I know because I'm me, but for general audiences it's a weird omission, if I didn't know, I'd assume it was just, accidentally on fire, not something it deliberately did) they didn't bother introducing the rest of the teens either, Hiccup calls them the fire brigade and focuses solely on Astrid, we don't learn the others names till later

The whole dragon attack is so slow and anticlimactc, and this is the last time I'm mentioning Hiccup's delivery, because it's awful. End of story, slow, over-exagerated, not an ounce of the charm and sass Jay Baruchel brought to the role

No talking fishbone rant and Hiccup imitating Stoick. 0/10

So, Berk is no longer their home. BERK IS NOT THEIR HOME. It's just, close to where a "key dragons nest" is… They're setting up for the 3rd movie where they just ditch Berk so it's not a plot hole aren't they? It just, gives so much less weight to everything. They're not defending their generational home they're just, camping out to kill dragons

This was no doubt done to explain the POC vikings, as "the best warriors from all around the world" but. They didn't need to do that. It's a fucking fantasy dragon movie, especially for the background characters, cast whoever you damn well please, you don't need an in-universe explanation that ruins the lore and significance of the main location

The great hall is also tiny and cramped now

Gobber doesn't stay to talk to Stoick, Stoick has to stop him from leaving the hall. Gobber is just an ass here. Fuck this whole movie, bury the script with some C4 and light it up

Okay they mention Valka, by name, that's a good thing, but it's the least I'd expect now that they know exactly where the story is headed

WHY IS EVERYTHING SO BRIGHTLY LIT THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST TENSE SCENES IN THE WHOLE STORY AND IT LOOKS LIKE THE GODDAMN TELETUBBIES HILL UP IN HERE

Overzealous, excited teenager "I have slain this mighty beast!" VS generic protag guy "I DID IT!"

The shot of the reveal of Toothless' open eye gives me goosebumps, every single time. The atmosphere, the score, the slow camera movement and angle. None of that is here, it's just, oh, it's open btw here he is

Okay more of every character being meaner for no reason, why did Hiccup start to leave? In the og he immediately went to cut Toothless loose. Here he has to hear a whine then go back. Jackass

And Toothless doesn't pin Hiccup because the CGI characters interacting with the live humans is expensive and hard to pull off. Also GOD he's so SLOW and just. He feels like he shouldn't be able to lift off the ground, all his speed and agility are gone, and BCAUSE of said sluggishness we linger long enough on his tail to SEE IT MISSING HALF OF THE TAIL FIN BEFORE THE ACTUAL REVEAL. FUCK THIS MOVIES' COMPOSITION AND DIRECTION IS ASS

He doesn't even faint, he doesn't even stumble he just kinda. Looks at Toothless flying away, and sighs. He doesn't look like a guy who got attacked by the scariest dragon they've never even seen, he looks like a guy who saw his car getting towed

The conversation between Stoick and Hiccup is alright I guess, just a worse clunkier version of the original with worse delivery, not much more to say

Ooookay, dragon training, dunno what "trial of flame" is, dumb, will be ignoring it. They seem to be cause they call it dragon training half the time, anyway. Banter is OK, however, "daddy pulled some strings" is such a dumb line. Second, Tuffnut sounds so whiny and him and Ruffnut being held back, 4 years, makes them 19-20. That's. A pointless, mildly weird inclusion

They act childish as ever but they're that much older than the other teens. Again, utterly pointless

"Will you stop that?! You big bag of wool." And so, insulting Fishlegs, for his weight, was absolutely necessary apparently? Isn't this supposed to be the modern progressive remake that "fixes" and "improves" aspects of the original??

As far as I remember, Fishlegs was never made fun of for his weight, not in the first move at least. I don't wanna say with certainty without checking. But in this moment he definitely wasn't, and it further makes Gobber just, a jackass in this version

So. Gobber takes Hiccup's axe, emphasizing how important a shield is. Then Hiccup has to awkwardly tap his shield with his hand to make noise while everyone else still has their weapons?? Why??

Yet again I find myself, asking WHY. Why did we need the dragon manual scene to go on for so long just so Hiccup can simp for Astrid some more? So Astrid can further emphasize how Berk isn't their home and they don't care about it? So we can learn Hiccup and Stoick's house, their home, the home they lost Valka in, the home they cherished. Is like the viking white house and if one of them isn't chief they get kicked out?? The fuck is wrong with this movie??

Unsurprisingly the scene of Hiccup reading the manual is short, lame and without a fraction of the atmosphere and creepiness of the original. It's like he's reading a damn instruction manual and skipping to the part he needs to read

Seeing the ships get attacked is pretty neat, alright that one is a plus

They put the hesitation before the nose touch back, good. But forbidden friendship just, doesn't hit the way it does in the original, it's kinda. Boring, didn't make me feel a damn thing

Okay all the "us girls gotta stick together" is so fucking annoying YOU CAN SHOW THEM BEING FRIENDS WITHOUT POINTING IT OUT WITH OVERUSED MODERN TERMS. Show don't tell, dammit

Gothi standing there moving beads is also stupid and pointless, and her design isn't nowhere near as charming as the original(design being casting and costume)

Exchanging dragon nip for dandelions is also stupid

"Who's a good boy??" Ah so Toothless is in fact, a dog now. Good to fucking know. He seems so much less intelligent here as a whole

Test flight is just bad, bad camera work, bad cgi, bad everything. And no Toothless accidentally running Hiccup through fire in the end. Why remove it it was such a fun little gag

If I don't directly mention a scene, assume it's the same, but worse. That's how a majority of them are, same script with minor alterations and worse acting and animation I just don't have anything to say on those

Not faulting Nico Parker, she's doing the best with what she's got, but what she's got is a bad script and bad direction. Because Astrid seems so cold, and emotionless. Seeing the Red Death and saying "what is that" wtih a complteltly nerutral expression, she sounds like she's asking about an ugly shirt her friend is wearing

Also how do you manage to make the northern lights ugly? How is that possible? Beautiful blues teams and purples vs puke green

"Don't get inloved, my dad respects you too much" VS "make sure they don't find Toothless" So this Hiccup cares more about Astrid's reputation, not her, her REPUTATION, than he does about Toothless' life. Got it. SIMP. FAILTHY FUCKING SIMP What have they done to my boy.

Okay there was one neat shot of Hiccup's hand matching Toothless' paw when they're trying to climb up

"ASTRID GET BACK HERE. THAT'S AN ORDER." So, he's concerned about flaunting power and being right, not just, getting a kid out of danger. He's upset they're not listening to him, not that they could get hurt

Fight between Toothless and Hookfang is extended and I guess it's decently cool, but that, and the longer fight between Toothless and Stoick, just makes everything slower and more anticlimactic. The original was quick and snappy, this is just "we're filling time"

"You're not one of us. You're not my son." Cannot BEGIN to compare to "You're not a viking. You're not my son." Seriously the delivery, the line itself, hits nowhere as hard. I guess bringing up Valka is alright but feels a bit forced ngl

WHY DOES TOOTHLESS HAVE A FUCKING AMERICAN FOOTBALL CROTCH GUARD ON HIS FACE LMAO WHAT IS THAT

Alright final battle, mostly the same but worse, HOWEVER, The occupational hazard line was removed, this one and the setup for it earlier

And Stoick, doesn't say "I'm sorry" nor does he tell Hiccup he doesn't have to go. No no he says he was "just trying to protect him" and that whatever happens up there he's proud. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't take accountability for being wrong

They got rid of "not fireproof on the inside" with the terrible terrors, and therefore, no explanation as to how or why Hiccup decided to fire inside the Red Death's mouth. Especially considering SHE'S NOT FIREPROOF. THEY BLEW HOLES IN HER WINGS AND FLEW THROUGH THEM FOR A COOL VISUAL, COMPLETELY FUCKING RUINING THEIR WHOLE LORE

(EDIT) I was mistaken, someone pointed this out and I went back to rewatch. In the original they blow holes in her wings too, but there it's much more subtle and it's small holes that get torn apart by wind instead, in the remake they just blow massive firey holes in her wings

Stoick apologizing and waiting to see Hiccup alive is alright, but they really should've kept it a father son moment, Astrid doesn't need to be there. Also, just he's alive. No "you brought him back alive" he still thanks Toothless later but that line was a nice acknowledgement to what he did

Well, the rest of it, is just the same, but worse. They acknowledge that Stoick and the others rode back on dragons, I guess that makes sense, it's alright

Snotlout has a non-subplot with his dad which was done much better in the show, not much else to say on that

And that was it. The live action How to train your dragon remake. In a word. Soulless. The same but worse. What they do change is for the worse, not a single person aside from Gerard Butler was cast appropriately, nor designed as far as costuming goes, they bend over backwards justifying the changes they've made and the movie is much worse for it

Every single character is also, meaner for some reason. Only Fishlegs is about the same but more whiny somehow. It's just. Bad, no other way to say it, it's bad. Gobber is the worst offender, he's an asshole to Hiccup, to the other kids, everyone. Hiccup is also so unlikeable and a genetic protagonist with bad delivery. By the end I couldn't give less of a shit if he made it or not cause he was annoying more than anything

Toothless is significantly less intelligent, agile and cool than in the original. Same goes for all the dragons honestly. Trash heap with bad cgi, bad acting and a bad script. I'll be happy when it's forgotten. And I hope the sequel gets canceled, but general audiences will make this at least an 800mil movie so that probably won't happen

[charmedsquirell]

How I got into the void

Hey guys,

My name is Sylvie. i want to share that two years ago, I started to look into the void state because I was in bad place in my life. I wanted to be useful for my family and give them everything in an instant. I downloaded tumblr and started to follow all the blogs I could find. I found a lot of information. Most of it contradicted one another and that confused me a lot. The people that helped me the most were b4ddprincess, lucky kiwii, adambja and wizlizbelle. When Wizliz left, i also deleted my tumblr since she was the only one who i used to rant to and i was really suicidal.

i found her again and started to ranting to her about my life which was irritating and I'm sure like most bloggers do not want to be trauma dumped on but i just did not have anyone on my side. But I wanted to make this post bc i know her blog doesn't exist anymore but there were people who wanted to know more about this stuff. I basically asked for tarot readings from her so i could see why it was not working for me and i would like ask every single day. one day she told me that my only problem is resistance. I will try my best to explain it like she did.

so basically the ego feeds on resistance because it knows you do not believe in the positive things you tell it fully and some people have their ego under control, some people do not. I used to do like 4 hour non stop affirming every day and it did not work for me. so she said stop affirming, stop asking tarot, and give in to the voice. I was like is she guiding me to do the wrong thing but then she said it helped her a lot. So i was not believing in this but i did it (she sent a script of what to say) and the voice came

"you will never date Alek and he will never love you" and i said "yeah i know. and?"

"you will never lose weight and be fat forever" and i said " yeah i won't. and?"

"you will never enter the void state" and i said "yeah i know i won't, and?" and then the voice like just stopped. there was nothing. literally nothing and my mind had never ever been clear. so i teold her like this happened and she says "you basically tamed your ego and put it to sleep by giving it what it wanted to hear but because you've been affirming and trying all these methods in your past, your subconscious will not buy into negtivity. Your subconscious is the part of your brain that cannot function on its own and blindly believes you. It cannot even see what u see."

i was literally so shocked because i would always affirm "no! he will love me and i'll enter the void" like trying to convince the go but wiz said that you can tame the ego and make it work for you instead of trying to convince it. when you agree with it, it becomes silent. like oh she gave me what i wanted to hear, now what? so now when i would think "the void is hard" automatically i would hear "no it's not". like not even me saying it but just a same voice that would be negative before.

look, i do not really care for like what is and what is not or whatever drama that happened. and it was bad to see her go but the truth is that we do not need to hear from others. Of course if she had not told me, i would not know but sometimes putting in the work does more damage than good sometimes and i used to see many like me here.

So then finally i tried this at night, when lying down i let the negativity came in and i did not resist it. when my mind became completely silent (it took maybe one to two minutes) i said "i am in the void" and i felt no resistance. then i did not expect anything but just to affirm over and over. finally i was there. it was the void and i knew because i did not even feel my whole body just like a floating thing like ball of light. I affirmed that my dad would get his job back and my bf would love me. i affirmed for losing weight. all that came true so fast but i spent time in the void. when i woke up, i had it. my dad was happy he brought sweets to celebrate. everything else came true as well. so now i come back to tumblr to say goodbye again that maybe we have to work with us and not against.

just to be safe, this is just my experience and i'm not gonna like respond or anything bc i do not want to be a blogger especially after seeing the drama. you may not feel this way but this worked for me. maybe it will work for you and maybe not.

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

Thinking of telling them to stop?

Let’s say you’re being harassed at work and you're not ready to go to HR or file a complaint. Maybe you’re not sure it “counts" or you’ve heard HR can make things worse (they really can). Or it could be you don’t want a whole investigation stormclouding over your life. You just want it to stop!

Well, you’re not alone. And here’s what to start thinking about before you wander into the wild woods of workplace warbles.

1. Remember: You don’t owe them anything A lot of harassers already know they’re crossing lines. You don’t need to give them a wake-up call. You’re not their coach, therapist, or HR rep. Changing or reprimanding them is not your job.

2. Don’t downplay it just because it’s common Lots of people deal with low-level harassment. Creepy comments, weird touches, “jokes” that cross a line. Just because something isn’t criminal doesn’t mean it’s not harmful. If it’s making your job harder or making you feel unsafe, that’s real.

3. Never do it because someone told you to If a manager or HR person says, “Just go talk to them,” hit the brakes. That’s called informal resolution, and it’s only okay when it’s 100% your choice.

4. You don’t owe them politeness Some people worry about being “mean” when confronting someone. But if someone is making you uncomfortable, it’s not your job to manage their feelings. You can be direct. You can be blunt. You can be cold. You don’t have to soften your boundary.

5. If you’re going to speak up, plan it This doesn’t have to be a big performance. But if you do decide to say something, think it through in advance. Choose a private but safe moment. Keep it short. Say what you need to say and then stop. You don’t owe them a debate.

6. The goal is clarity, not a perfect script You don’t need to give a TED Talk. You just need to be clear. “Don’t touch me at work.” “That joke wasn’t funny.” “This isn’t appropriate.” You can say it in a way that works for you, but the point is: make sure they can’t pretend they didn’t know.

7. Don’t expect an apology Some people will apologize. Some won’t. Some will get defensive or act confused or tell you that you’re overreacting. None of that means you were wrong to speak up. People don’t have to agree with your boundary for you to have one

8. Expect weird reactions Sometimes people apologize. But they tend to deny it, make it your fault, or get icy. That’s not on you. That’s who they are when they’re caught.

9. If it makes you feel unsafe, skip it Talking to a harasser can be risky, especially if they have power over you, or if you think they’ll retaliate. You simply don’t need to light a match to prove there’s a fire.

10. Document it anyway Even if you’re not making a formal report, keep notes. Dates, times, what happened, what was said. If you tell them to stop, write that down too. If things escalate, that documentation can help you later, and you’ll be glad you kept it.

11. You don’t need to forgive Confronting someone doesn’t mean you have to make peace with them. You can ask someone to stop without getting closure. You’re allowed to walk away still feeling angry, shaken, or done. This is about your boundary and not their redemption.

The prime directive: do what keeps you safe That’s it. You aren't required to be brave or “fair.” or, hell, even consistent . You just have to survive this in a way that lets you keep your power intact. Whatever choice helps you do that, that’s the right one!

TL:DR / You want to dig a little deeper, clickarino right here.

Thanks all for reading. I hope my long-ish posts are thought-provoking and problem-solving in some way for some of you out there. Be safe lovelies on your travels 💘

[heartavenue]

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Things That I Scripted Into My Better Cr That Just Makes Sense

Hi, my loves! I decided to make a things that I scripted just to give you a little insight of the reality I'm permashifting to! I absolutely adore this reality, so I thought this would be a fun way to introduce you all to it! Also, feel free to add some of these to your scripts!

1. Two dishwashers

I do not like washing dishes, nor do I like having them in my sink, so this is a MUST!

2. Two washers and two dryers

I live in a family of six, so trust me, I am not going to wait 40 days and 40 nights just to wash a load of clothes NO! (I may make this three washers and three dryers)

3. A guest house, pool house, and greenhouse

Okay, remember my "I need a little fabulous—is that so wrong?" post? Well, I mean that I want it all, so trust me, I'm going to have it all. My extended family comes over for the holidays so I just have a guest house so that they can stay over! I also have a pool, and since my house sits on top of ACRES and ACRES of land, the pool is not close to the main house. So the pool house serves as an area to go where you don't want to make that journey back to the house! And last but not least the greenhouse was something that my Dad commissioned for my Mom because she LOVES to garden!

4. My city is WALKABLE!

There is nothing that frustrates me then the lack of walkable cities in America. I just want to leave my house, go to the store, pop by a bookstore, and go back to my house, all within 35 minutes.

5. Farmers' Markets/Farms

Some Love Lore for you: I'm a country girl from Alabama! So, I'm not a stranger to seeing farm animals as I head to school in the morning, and I am not a stranger to visiting a farmers market and picking up some farm-grown tomatoes. However, Alabama has densely populated city areas and, of course, the stereotypical rural/countryside areas, so I would like to be around a farm again! I used to live in the country where I had farmers' markets, and I could see the little cows, and I miss that!

6. In-home movie theater

What did Sharpay say? Bigger is better, and better is bigger, a little bit is NEVER enough! I'm rich there why on earth would I not want to have rich shit in my house? My in-home theater serves as a place where I can make an excuse for my physical media addiction. The movie theater is just a big screen with a DVD player where I can pop in my favorite movie (or TV show) and enjoy myself! And of course I have a popcorn machine in there and those big ass movie theater chairs.

7. Walk-in pantry

I do most of the cooking/baking in the house, I need a walk-in pantry to hold all of my cooking needs.

8. Festivals, Carnivals, Concerts, etc

Think about Stars Hollow in Gilmore Girls! I just want my city to come together and hold all kinds of events because it would be fun, right?

9. Childhood best friend whom I fall in love with.

That's some Love Lore for another day!

10. My entire family being shifters

In my better cr my dad was the one who taught me how to shift! My family even group shifts together! Why I scripted this? I just think it would be fun to experience the infinity of the multiverse with my family!

11. My mother grows weed in her garden.

She's a very interesting person, to say the least....that is also some Love Lore for another day!

12. My family have their own webseries on YouTube

We're funny, we're iconic, and there's never a dull moment in our house so why not put it on camera for the whole world to see?

[infamousbondagemurder]

DUCK! THE CARBINE HIGH MASSACRE - EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW!

Hello!!!! i’m very autistic and I wanted to put my effort into something I could share with you all, so without any more unnecessary ranting here’s all you need to know about duck! the carbine high massacre. please comment anything I should add or any mistakes I may make, beware this is my first post like this so im a newby go easy on a gal!

Full film:

https://youtu.be/UScvX4bjExg?si=Cohq29YGoYCsOtBY

Trailer:

https://youtu.be/zNtUviDpyQg?si=23nQgFQo75OQ-RC_

Film soundtrack:

https://youtu.be/2ky9FrEj8Fk?si=DqRVcTdFQEtJ6owC

Website archived:

https://web.archive.org/web/20040815013848/http://www.duck2k.com/docs/carbine_comm.html

Other interviews unrelated to specifically this film:

https://youtu.be/gEbZVXdsX-U?si=cG5bTGb41ee-1fFh

https://youtu.be/WUjqIoDidr4?si=sDMMUzzKhIWImuL5

https://youtu.be/W04lj1BdK0o?si=DHRIixDEpn39KBne

Filming:

Duck! the Carbine High Massacre was a spoof about Columbine that was made soon after the massacre, infact only 6 months after. It was created by Joey Smack (Joseph Miller) and William Hellfire (William Apriceno) two (at the time) collage aged film makers. A lot of viewers received it as this as distasteful and terrible, but others find this to be one of the greatest movies of all time. Smack and Hellfire mainly made a living on creating fetish content for their small but loyal cult following, but unlike most of Smack and Hellfires other films this one was based on true events and NOT made for fetish content. (it only had a few titties here and there ;-D) A lot of people who had starred the movie had received a lot of back lash including piles of death threats.

Duck, along with most other Factory 2000 films was edited in Adobe premier and shot on VHS cameras including a broadcast Super VHS camcorder, a handheld RCA, and another unidentified camcorder.

The films first dvd release was in 2004, along with minor color corrections.

The whole budget was about 3,000$ along with inexperienced actors, most of them being Hellfire and Smacks friends taking some time off work.

On Columbines anniversary they had a showing of the film at CBGB’s where an interview with Court Tv was held and they had stated some of the reasons behind making the movie, what they would say to the parents at Columbine, and the reasoning behind making the movie.

It was here where they explained they were *not* making fun of the victims but instead the media in America’s portrayal of all the victims and the shooters on the news.

Interview:

https://youtu.be/QjPlPsGUuKI?si=gel6kBCbpzmUmiDE

The producers had gotten arrested for creating this film, not because of the crude nature but because they had brought fire arms onto school property .

Court Tv producers getting arrested:

https://youtu.be/i7LiNTkksJs?si=C8IbynDgwj9oP9YE

The film racked up $6,034 in the box office and the film was said to have helped pay Hellfires legal fees.

Experiences on set:

William hellfire stated that he did remember filming and creating most of duck because he was so drugged up on pain killers he was using to treat his cancer pains. He had no remorse or regret for making the film

Chris Perez hopped on reddit to describe his experience “Fun and loose. Everyone was really laid back and chill and we had a good time with the filming. There was a script, but we also improved a lot of stuff. Sometimes, Bill, Joe, and Todd would just give us a general idea of what they wanted us to do and say and we'd work off that.” He along with many others would receive blowback from the incident.

Misty Mundae said that the film was a "crappy little movie" which "has permanently staked its place in underground cult cinema"

Cast:

Derick- Joey Smack (Joseph Miller)

Derwin- William Hellfire (William Apriceno)

Retard- Henry Krinkle

Bible Girl- Misty Mundae (Erin Brown)

Play Girl- Lilly Tiger

Car Kid- Chris Perez

Spam Jock- Michael Ovum

Benchpress- Ryan Trimmer

Afro-American- Kendall "Shorty" Ward

Song Girl- Mazur

Goth Boy- Mike Roser

Goth Girl- Liz Bathory

No Info Boy- Michael Lema

The Principal- Larry Wellman

The Janitor- Rodney Sleurtols

Policeman- Karl Pitt

Plot:

With a running of 101 minutes Duck! the Carbine High Masscre was about spoof about the events that took place at Columbine on April 20th, 1999. The movie took place at Carbine high school where two bullied, neo-nazi, trenchcoat wearing high-school students, Derick and Derwin fail at a double suicide attempt. While walking home Derwin gets attacked by jocks and misses school the next day. After school it is then the two high schoolers plan a massacre against their school. The pair then bought several guns from a black market dealer. The next day the two boys bid farewell to their parents for the last time and head to school with the guns in arm. Once they get to school they head to the cafeteria trying to get the student’s attention, when yelling failed Derwin got onto a chair and yelled “What’s for lunch?” before the two began shooting. The two kill several people in gruesome manners before heading down to the basement and sharing a last cigarette before shooting each other.

Other films:

William Hellfire and Joey Smack typically made fetish films and soft-core porno flicks, some notable ones include (but are not limited tooooo!) Erotic Survivor, Silk Stocking Strangler, Vampire Strangler, TITanic 2000, and so many other underground gems. I, infamousbondagemurder sincerely urge you to watch these movies, buy the dvds, and support the living William Hellfire.

Here’s a link to watch more movies by William (unfortunately not ALL his movies are on this keep in mind. i also did not create this link so credits to the creator, which i’m not sure who the creator is)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-2iH0WjcolYtbat61F2zLs8SSw5dbMy15mnCnuq4suE/edit

What most people don’t know is Joey Smack starred in the semi-popular film Where the Dead go to Die, where he voice acted as the characters Ralph Stanley, Tommy’s father, and The legless war veteran. He dropped iconic lines in this movie such as: “You fuckin’ dog! What the fuck are you some sort of faggot cannibal! Aggghhh! Your eatin’ my dick!”

Dvd:

Hello! so I am basing this off of the DVD that I personally own, these details may differ from DVD to DVD so if you own a different sort of DVD, please comment anything extra that you have on yours.

Dvd includes:

* Deleted scenes

* Behind COURT TV- cbgb’s screening

* PRODUCER/DIRECTOR interviews

* TODAY is the DAY LIVE in Hoboken NJ

* KING GHIDORAH! LIVE in Hoboken NJ

* Original trailers

* Shooting gallery

* Film soundtrack

* And of course, this wonderful shitty movie :-)

Rest in peace Joey Smack:

On Saturday June 29th, 2019 Joseph Robert Miller, better known by many fans as ‘Joey Smack’ passed away. The circumstances are unknown and a mystery to all fans. There are rumors of suicide but there are no confirmations. I advice you to read his obituary and donate to catholic charities, diocese of paterson, the charity which paid his brother joshua's medical bills after his passing in 1998.

Joseph was loved by many and passed at the age of 41. Fans, family and friends all mourn him to this day. He was described by friends as a kind hearted true and utter weirdo, who had lived in his own world. he didn’t talk to many people but if you had been let into his select group, he would go out of his way to make friends laugh and smile with his warped sense of humor.

His memorial services were held Tuesday, July 2nd, 2019 from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. at Browning-Forshay funeral home on Lafayette Ave in Hawthorne.

Rest in peace Joey Smack, a truely great man who loved what he did and put so much love into all of his creations. Well wishes to his surviving family and friends:

Joey Smacks obituary:

https://emeto.neocities.org/joeysmack

CREDS:

Mainly wiki like a chud

Actors themselfs

The dvd

I’m dumb

[demie90s]

nika x model reader!!! maybe nika is the one that does the spoiling and they always go shopping together for matching fits, ig posts blow up, and reader shows up to a fame with custom rings for nikas number that nika bought her and is shown on jumbotron

𝙁𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙚

𝙉𝙞𝙠𝙖 𝙈ü𝙝𝙡 x 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙈𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙡!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

MASTERLSIT | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: nika spoils you like it’s her job—but tonight, you flip the script and make sure the whole arena sees who really owns your heart.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: luxury, teasing, possessiveness, light PDA, viral internet moments

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.3k

Everyone thinks you do the spoiling. You’re the model. Verified on every platform. Always showing up in glam with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. You walk like the room was built around you.

But if they looked a little closer, they’d see it. The Cartier bangle? Nika. The Chrome Hearts jacket you wore at fashion week? Nika. The limited-edition silver 10 on your finger? Nika.

You didn’t even have to ask.

“You’re mine,” she told you once in the Louis Vuitton fitting room, hands on your hips, voice low in your ear. “So you���re gonna wear it like you mean it.”

⸻

Y’all go shopping like it’s tradition.

Side by side in matching cargos and sleek tops, arguing over whose style goes harder while the staff brings out racks just for you two.

She always pays.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say every time the card hits the machine.

“Shut up and carry your bags,” she grins, sliding her arm around your waist. “You’re the accessory.”

⸻

Game day? You show up dressed for war.

Hair laid, soft-glam beat, full look styled around her team colors. The cameras flash the moment you step through the tunnel—but tonight?

Tonight you’re wearing the rings. Silver stacked on three fingers. Sleek, icy, loud enough to glint under the Jumbotron light. Each one custom-carved:

“MÜHL.”

“#10.”

“PROPERTY OF.”

She hasn’t seen them yet. You wait until halftime—right when she glances up at the crowd—and you lift your hand, biting your glossed lip, rings on full display while the jumbotron zooms in.

The whole arena reacts.

Someone yells “YO SHE GOT THE NUMBER ON HER FINGER!”

Nika freezes mid-step. Mouth open. Then she laughs, all teeth, all disbelief.

Presses her hand to her heart like she’s down bad in front of 20000 people.

She dropped 22 that night.

And the whole time? She kept looking for you. Every steal. Every dime. Every bucket—eyes up, jaw clenched, like she had something to prove to the girl in the front row wearing her number on her hand.

After the final buzzer, you met her in the tunnel like always. But this time she didn’t wait.

Didn’t say “hey.” Didn’t say “what’d you think?”

Just grabbed you.

One hand on your waist, the other on your face, rings cold against your cheek as she kissed you—hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It was hers. Pressed in. Mouth parted. A little messy, all claim. You kissed her back with both hands curled in her jersey, like you needed something to hold or you’d melt right there in the tunnel.

The staff walked past. Cameras clicked. Someone whistled. Neither of you pulled away. When she finally let up, she rested her forehead against yours, breath hot and lips flushed.

“You wore the rings,” she whispered.

“You bought them.”

“You really tryna make me lose my mind out there, huh?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over her mouth.

“Next time I’ll wear your jersey number on my back,” you said. “Just make sure you keep playing like that.”

She licked her lips, grinning.

“Baby, I play like that because you’re watching.”

And before you could say another word, she kissed you again—softer this time, but longer. Slower. Like the game was over but this was her real win.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey