#ripstick

[femmeforce]

here's me attempting to carve on a ripstick! (felt so much higher up than I was lol)

[awhitewomansinstagram]

Yesss I’m like on the very edge of older gen z (2003) and I remember growing up with like, the leapfrog thing for kids and the original Wii as the big “gaming” systems lollll, I think when I finally got a laptop (probably when I was 11 or 12?) one of the first games I got was zoo tycoon and I was so excited because it was the expansion pack version.

I was around for the Disney channel era of good luck Charlie, Jessie, and Austin and Ally (Jessie ftw), I remember thinking it was so cool that my mom got the iPhone 3 or 4, and when my sister got a DS it was a HUGE deal. My first phone was a tiny little bar phone that I got when I was maybe 11 and then I got a super cheap Samsung at 13 and thought it was so cool because I could play candy crush—no modern social media until I was like 17 or something (I had Facebook i guess, but I don’t think that “counts” as modern anymore)

I was around for toys-r-us before the weird rebrand thing that happened and when the top gift idea for kids was a ripstick or the electric razor scooter. I had zhu zhu pets, a bunch of Webkinz, and an animal jam account on god knows what computer maybe an old shared desktop my family had. Computers still had DVD holders. I knew how to play vhs cassettes and we went to blockbuster (fly high sweet angel) and Redbox or we mail ordered Netflix cds (and a lot of them you had to wait if someone else had the copy) because they werent even a streaming service yet

My middle school was the whole mustache and bacon duct tape craze… still never going to understand how we all somehow fell into that mass psychosis. Sephora barely existed in my consciousness. I saw the last hobbit movie in theaters. The nook tablet at Barnes and noble was “high tech” to me

I survived the cold shoulder shirt phase. My first “concert” was panic at the disco at a festival and I don’t even think pray for the wicked had come out yet

Also I’m apparently in that group of American kids that are like, the last to actually know how to write cursive which is insane to me!!!

By birth year I’m solidly in Gen Z and possibly older Gen z but I feel like I wasn’t raised with a lot of exposure to modern tech other than like, early 2000s Nintendo and like two computer games and Microsoft word. I know it’s more than the very start of Gen z but damn, whenever I meet kids that are born past 2008 I’m like “yeah no I’m going with the millennials”

Anyway u guys wanna trade silly bandz

Millennials this, Gen Z that. But where is my fellow Zillennials at? Those of us who at the start of our lives didn't have cell phones. We had house phones. Well our parents may have had a cell phone but it was the Nokia phone that had the snake game. Those of us who actually had to go outside and play because we didn't have ipads. Those of us who may or may not have had a computer but it was a family computer, one the whole family shared. Those of us who started to learn what an atlas was because teachers thought we'd need to use them but never actually needed to use one. Those of us who learned what an encyclopedias was and actually used them up until late middle school when we finally got to google stuff. Where are you?

[jacks-weird-world]

🗽: @empirestatebldg

[skhardwarevers1]

I WAS GONNA POST SMTH BUT THEN I ALMSOT FELL KFF THE STUPID FUCKING THING JELDPPP

[thetorturedstonersdepartment]

dispo haul 🥳 flower is a half of master jack, 28.10%. few things are more satisfying than getting a good deal on flower tbh

[murdrdocs]

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

jack's away for work, but you convince him to call you for a bit. slight power dynamics; phone sex; masturbation; lowkey fluff MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

as soon as he answers the call, you can tell he's a little tipsy. there's a shine to his eyes, his gaze more relaxed than usual, his blinks less punctual as he stares down into the phone almost at an aerial view.

then he speaks, an energetic, drawn out and almost bimbo-esque "hey" yelled right into the microphone. there's commotion in the background, music and chatter layered together with an almost synthetic perfection.

"hey, where are you?" you squint at the screen, already swiping out of facetime and clicking on his location whenever he starts answering.

"uh i'm out. at dinner. want me to call you later?"

by the time later comes, you might be knocked out and drooling into the pillows with your phone limply hanging in your hand.

but you've been dying to talk to him. you've seen nothing but media coverage of his day—tiktoks from students on campus, tweets from people who claim to have walked by him while he was on his ripstick, a few pictures with curt messages sent from him. you haven't actually spoken to jack since early this morning when you were still too tired, sleep still clouding your vision as you answered his phone call.

you're desperate to speak to him while you're mostly coherent, so you agree.

you hang up after he gives you three exaggerated kisses into the camera. you wait for a while, watch a few episodes of a show you stopped watching months ago, read a few articles you've been meaning to get to. you consider a snack, maybe something a little sweet, but that requires getting out of bed and the mattress and sheets have already conformed to perfectly house your body. in the spirit of comfort, you stay put.

when your phone vibrates against the sheets, it crudely wakes you up. it takes a second for your heart rate to calm down, but you don't focus on that when you accept jack's call—not a facetime this time which you're a little upset about, but you won't complain.

you put it on speaker and snuggle back under the duvet.

"hey, honey."

you hum, trying to fight off a yawn as you stretch, responding to him all the while.

"you were asleep, weren't you?" he sounds like he's exerting himself. you assume he's walking back to his hotel.

"yeah, but it's fine. what's up? are you heading back to your room?"

"nah, i've been back for a little while now. are you sure you don't wanna go back to sleep?"

you smile a little, slowly waking up by the minute. "i'm sure, jack. i wanna talk to you."

a second passes and your eyelids are getting heavier. you adjust yourself to sit up a bit more in effort to stay awake.

"where'd you go for dinner?" you ask him.

"there was this uh ... this historic place not far from the hotel. i went with a few people i met earlier."

"yeah? how was the food?"

he takes a breath, a sharp inhale that's followed by sounds of rustling. "it's was okay, y'know? like you could tell the chefs cared about what they were doing but i wouldn't say it was made with love."

you snort. "food that's made with love's gonna be hard to find."

"hey, we did it once, we can do it again."

you agree halfheartedly, solely because you're so tired that you cant even think to open your mouth right now. it's quiet again and there's a sound on the other side of the line. it sounds familiar, or at least familiar enough. if you weren't between sleep and wake you might've figured it out by now.

he covers the noise with his voice. "what about you? what're you doing?"

"laying in bed. feels nice to lay on your side for once."

"hey!" he sounds offended, but you know he doesn't mean it. "don't get too comfortable. you're gonna fuck up the feng shui."

"i'm not touching anything, i promise."

this time he hums noncommittally. you're sure he knows you've adjusted his pillows to your liking, using the one that smells the most like him as your own personal stuffed animal.

"can i be cliché for a second?"

the switch is abrupt. you hesitate, narrowing your eyes down at the phone as if you could see jack. you wish you could.

"sure...? but before you do that, why aren't we facetiming?"

"it felt too intimate."

"too intimate? how?"

"just ... just let me say my cliché line, okay?"

"okay." you laugh a bit, sitting back and waiting for whatever jack's gonna say this time.

he waits and you don't know if it's because he's nervous, or because he's trying to build suspense. with jack, it could really be either.

he takes a breath and you prepare yourself.

"what're you wearing?" he deepens his voice as he says it, like he's trying to make you laugh. and you do. you tilt your head back and let out an honest, good laugh. but then you realize that while he was making you laugh, he wasn't joking.

you put it together.

not facetiming because it felt 'too intimate' for him, the sounds on the other side of the line—slick sounds that you know far too well—his cliché ask to know what you're wearing.

"you're a pervert, you know that?"

"only because you love to remind me every 3 business days."

"just telling the truth, baby."

"c'mon," he shifts again and you wonder how long he's been at this. has he been edging himself? waiting to hear about your day before he cued you in on what he was doing? how long did he wait to call you? "tell me what you're wearing. i need the image."

you pull your legs up beneath the duvet, bringing the covering with you.

"nothing too sexy, don't get your hopes up. just my underwear and a shirt."

jack groans but not out of pleasure. out of frustration. "yeah and that really narrows it down. give me some description, some color. really paint a picture."

you groan. he's so demanding tonight.

"fine. black panties, the lacy boy short ones. and that creed shirt i bought like two months ago. the impulse purchase."

his hum is one of satisfaction. he sighs and you hear a croak, as if he'd just opened his mouth and let whatever sound brewing in his throat come out without conscious orchestration.

"will you touch yourself, too? i don't wanna be the only one doing it," he asks.

you consider it, but even the thought of lifting your hand and spreading your legs tires you out. you're still barely awake as is, and an orgasm would help put you right to sleep, but you don't want it right now.

"not tonight."

"tomorrow?" his voice is full of so much hope that you grin.

"yeah, tomorrow. sure." you chew on your bottom lip. "if you let me see when you come."

there's a single moment that passes and then the picture of jack's contact turns into a reflection of you. you don't waste anytime answering the incoming facetime call, instantly clicking the green and then lifting the phone to a full image of your face.

the sight is as beautiful as you thought it would be. jack is illuminated mostly by the reflection of you. there's a slight warm light source coming from in front of him, maybe a lamp, but most of the light comes from only you.

he has you looking at him from a downward angle, as if his phone is sitting right atop one of his thighs. he stares down at you for a few moments, his eyes heavy and lidded, completely relaxed. his tongue flicks out over his lips and then he leaves them parted. he's not as quiet as he was before, letting audible breaths slip out. you can hear the shlick of his hand gliding over his dick, too.

you wanna see that angle, too, but you can tell he's close and you don't wanna risk missing that. so you sit and watch, taking note of the small pinch between his eyebrows, the way he sucks in air through his teeth as he winces, his head tipping back. he's bracing himself and you see the exact moment where his orgasm happens.

he's talking to you, telling you he's close, instinctively chanting "almost there, almost there, just a bit more" like he usually does when you're together.

he tenses for a moment, the dimples in his cheeks pronounced, and then he relaxes. his features soften, his eyes stay closed but his eyebrows lift. he looks completely at peace.

he's coming down when you tell him, "you're so pretty". he grins, big and earnest.

"you're prettier," he tells you as he offsets the camera, giving you a view of the pillows until he corrects it. "you wanna accompany me in the shower?"

again, you agree, but it's not much accompanying as you're dozing off by the time the water temperature has been set exactly to jack's liking and he's finally standing under the stream.

you fall asleep to the sound of water running and jack singing unwritten.

[floristmatt]

yeah I'm on a ripstick cuz I'm not like other skater boys, I'm different

[deer-vertebrae]

catch me pulling up to S on a ripstick

cherry vs joe (i know what you are)? no

[ourpickwickclub]

Love that Zuma wore his boots and belt buckle on stage with Gavin. He's not afraid to show He loves country.

There was an old pic of young Zuma I always loved. He was standing on a hoverboard or ripstick type thing, with a mask on, maybe on Christmas morning, and you could just see the confidence in him. He is very kind and protective kid too. GR is right about him being the real deal imo.

- B

[hearts-hunger]

NOBODY FUCJING TOLD ME THEY POSTED A TIKTOK OF DANNY ON THE RIPSTICK HIGHLIGHTING HIS FUCKING HAPPY TRAIL JSJHHDJJ

[toxooz]

Does any or your characters rides or knows how to ride a ripstick?? I haven’t seen anyone irl ride one in years🤣(idk if I should use the words ride or use when referring to a ripstick)

i havent either tbh they kinda died out AHA but im sure Ollie can ride one ofccc his ass can ride just about anything (👀 ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ) and maybe Remy but otherwise nobodys really touched those so they probably dont have that much experience with them

[pregnant-javert]

the funniest thing abt oscar wilde is that. he very much belongs 2 the industrial revolution old timey classics book portion of history where hes one of the Shadowy Greats upon which a good degree of literature is based of off-

and then you remember there are photos of him. very clear black and white photos and you look at his real face and you're like this guy knows what an iphone and a ripstick is

[buppy44]

pogo sticks are outlawed and theres nothing that will fix the world save for the humble Razor Ripstick

[weaseltotheface]

Why did I have to tell a literal grown ass man to not ride a ripstick in the main aisle

That man was at least 35

[got-peaches]