#fully expect her to lean on ricky to get through the harder parts of it all

[ginaporterr]

do you have any thoughts about what ricky and gina's future might look like post season 4 (the rest of the year, and then also through to the end of gina's senior year?) season 4 was so good and i love them and love where they left off, but i still wish we got more 😭

same, i don't wanna get my hopes up for a movie / spin-off but there's SO much potential for stories that are left to be told 😭

based on what tim said, i think the spring musical would've been the greatest showman with ricky & gina as anne & philip!! mourning the loss of rewrite the stars (rina's version) atm 😔 skdfjksd and with ricky's whole 'destiny as the next timothee hal chalamet' thing, i wouldn't be shocked if he was offered the role of romeo and took it, especially if it means he gets to spend more time with gina! i did think it was a big possibility that quinn was kind of forced into offering the role to him bc of how the lyf moment at the press conference would be viewed by outside parties, but when i rewatched 408, there was something that made me change my mind about that that i can't remember rn so. i'm not as solid on that anymore JSKJDS but um. yeah ricky & gina would be spending A LOT of time together between musical rehearsals and study dates, given gina's tutoring ricky and all + if ricky has a role in the movie in some capacity, there's that as well

despite his 'destiny as the next timmy chalamet', i do think ricky ultimately doesn't want to be in the spotlight and is fine leaving all that to gina, so i think after he graduates, he would settle more into a songwriting career and he would pursue music in college. he'll obviously be staying in slc for gina's senior year, but i could see him working towards transferring to a college in either la / nyc as soon as he can bc i fully expect gina to make that move. i wanna say gina would go to julliard but based on all of the mentions of hollywood this season and the emphasis on her being a movie star, i feel like she might be headed to la instead? but yeah, despite ricky & gina not going to the same school anymore for gina's senior year, we've seen how they both actively make efforts to spend time together, so, although there would be an inherent dent in that time together, i think they would have dates (study and romantic) galore skdjfks plus i could see ricky helping gina rehearse for whatever musicals miss jenn puts on for her senior year!! and also just throw in all of the headcanons that everyone has that we didn't get to see, i.e. ricky teaching gina how to play guitar & skate, gina teaching ricky how to knit, them baking together, falling down youtube rabbit holes, etc, etc :)

[vee-angel]

First Day of School (Part of the Sodom Virus Chronicles)

Synopsis and content warning: This series is set in a world where The Sodom Virus has infected everyone in the world. While it’s asymptomatic in males, females eventually get sick and die unless they’re regularly able to ingest sperm (for reasons not fully understood, the genetic virus seems to bond with male DNA, but only in it’s incomplete form). It can be swallowed, but is most efficiently absorbed through the membranes of the anus and (to a lesser extent) the vagina. If you want the full Introduction to the Sodom Virus universe, you can click the #sodomvirus tag at the bottom to find the post I wrote a while ago where I gave the details. 

This first story details a girl named Ricki who has spent her life up until now in a religious sanctuary where she was protected from the depravity of the outside world. Now she’s going to have to go to school in the real world to catch up on her education. 

Fair warning, stories set in this world will be sort of a grab-bag of extreme and taboo fetishes. Female inferiority is the central theme, but filth, violence, and abuse of all kinds will be scattered throughout the stories pretty casually. 

Also, this will be my first ever illustrated story! Which is a trend I hope to continue. 

* * * * *

First Subject: Female Humiliation and Degradation

“What do you mean, I’m “Property of the high-school??” 

Ricki’s life had been in a rapid free-fall for the last three days. She had spent her life in a religious sanctuary where she’d been insulated from the misogynistic objectification the rest of the country participated in. She grew up hearing stories about how females were treated in the outside world. Rape, torture, humiliation, degradation. They were treated like objects with no regard for their humanity and expected to smile and thank their abusers. 

As a child, Ricki had assumed that such tales were exaggerations meant to reinforce the safety of the sanctuary, but now that she’d seen a bit of the world, she wasn’t so sure. 

“There’s another cunt who lives here at the school who I’ve assigned as your mentor to help you catch up on your education. You’ll meet her in your first class.” 

The man across the desk from her seemed annoyed at her presence so Ricki decided against pushing further for fear of accidentally inciting some kind of punishment. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She replied before gathering her things and using the school-map she was given to navigate to her first classroom. As she walked, she wondered about what questions she should ask the “cunt” who was assigned to help her assimilate to this strange new world. Ricki wasn’t exactly sure what the word “cunt” meant, but she’d heard it a lot since the government raided her home a few days before, it seemed like it was a word these people used to refer to women and girls, but that was about all she could glean. 

Ricki worried about her mother, the men from the government said that she had been declared a feminist and was being sent to a repository along with all the other adult women from the sanctuary. The men had been arrested and were charged with crimes as well, but she got the distinct sense that the penalty for the women was much harsher. They had told her that due to her age and circumstances, they were going to give her a chance to escape the same fate as her mother, but that she had better learn to abandon her feminist ideology “really fucking quick.” 

She never thought of herself as a feminist. She grew up believing that her purpose was to be a good daughter, wife, and mother. To smile, and be pretty, and kind, and always pleasing to others. Ricki wasn’t sure how that could make her a feminist.

Well, she didn’t think it was right to be cruel to women, but that was because she didn’t think it was right to be cruel in general. Could that be it? Just because she thought women should be treated like people? 

She wanted to be good, so she hoped that the other girl assigned to help her would be a good mentor. Maybe she would end up being like a big sister to her! She could only hope. 

Finally, she reached the room indicated as her first class on the map. The lettering on the door read “Female Humiliation and Degradation.” Was that the name of the class?? Nerves made her pause briefly before entering, but she figured that good girls should be eager to do as they’re told, so she went in. 

The first thing she noticed is that the room seemed very…. open. The far wall was almost entirely glass, overlooking a rather pleasant looking courtyard that Ricki guessed was used for leisure time between classes. There was an alternating pattern between tall, solid glass panels, and large windows that seemed able to slide up about four feet from ground level. Otherwise, the classroom seemed relatively ordinary, A few rows of neatly organized desks, and girls mulling about and chatting with one another as they wait for class to begin. The fashion sense of many of the girls was quite striking in its variety and daring. She noticed a girl she thought was wearing skin-colored leggings before realizing that she’d actually come to school completely bottomless! Ricki blushed as she wondered how common it was for girls to go around so…. on display, and turned her attention back to the lovely view through the glass wall. She briefly wondered why the windows opened from the floor, but her thoughts were interrupted by a smiling girl waving from the back of the classroom. 

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right?” she called from across the room. 

She turned to look at the source of the call. Whoa. The girl smiling and waving to her from the back of the room was breathtaking. So much that Ricki’s breath was literally taken. She just stared for a moment before remembering to breathe. She walked toward her and found her even more beautiful from up close. 

She was tall, with long waves of cascading black hair framing exotic middle-eastern features. Sapphire eyes emphasized by dark eyeliner upon lightly tanned skin the color of beach sand. She wore a form-fitting off-the-shoulder crop top that barely covered what appeared to be very large and very perky breasts. Her bottom half was covered with what appeared to be tight blue-jeans that had a strange sort of lacing across the front. 

“Hi!” Ricki greeted her new friend and extended her hand for a handshake. 

The raven-haired beauty stared down at her hand, seemingly confused for a moment before understanding dawned on her. “Oh!” she said as she grabbed Ricki’s wrist and pressed her hand against her left breast, “You don’t need to wait for permission, you stupid cunt, you can just grab my tits whenever you want! That goes for all girls, by the way. Unless a man tells you not to.” 

“Oh! Umm, thank you.” Ricki replied. She wasn’t really into girls sexually, but she didn’t want to make things harder for herself by being rude, so she made an effort to give the firm, perky orb a nice squeeze before removing her hand. “They’re very nice!” 

“They’re fake, I used to have pathetic, ugly little C-cups like you, so I had to get pumped full of silicone so I could have a cute, little pair of bolt-on bimbotits.” 

The way she spoke was jarring, both because of the insults she casually hurled at Ricki, and because of the dehumanizing way she spoke of herself. 

“I’m Ricki, by the way.” she introduced herself, resisting the urge to extend her hand again. 

“What a stupid name for a cunt.” she said giggling slightly, “I’m Sharaje” she said before leaning forward and pressing her pillowy scarlet lips against Ricki’s. 

She tried not to seem unnerved by the emotional whiplash of Sharaje insulting her name and then kissing her on the mouth. In a weird way, the mean things she was saying didn’t seem hostile. She’d been smiling the whole time, it was more like she just casually disrespects all women out of habit. 

This put Ricki in a predicament, would it be seen as “feminist” if she failed to disrespect Sharaje in return, or was she obligated to submit to her as a superior? When in doubt, she defaulted to being nice. “That’s a very pretty name.” 

“Thanks, it means butthole. That’s my best feature.” Sharaje turned around to reveal that the jeans she was wearing were actually a very fashionable garment Ricki would later learn were called “Spreaders.” The middle section of the back was cut out, with the remaining fabric held up with what seemed to be some kind of adhesive attaching them to her butt cheeks. The laces she’d noticed on the front now made sense, as they allowed Sharaje to tighten the front of the garment in order to spread her ass apart, ensuring that her anus was perpetually on display. And while Ricki hadn’t made it a habit of admiring other girl’s assholes, she had to admit, Sharaje’s was remarkably pretty. Flawlessly clean-looking, lightly-tanned skin led to a tiny muscular pucker. 

“It looks like a virgin’s huh? Can you believe I get buttfucked like ten times a day?” 

She couldn’t believe it. Ten times a day?? She’d heard that women in the outside world were treated like sex objects, but surely Sharaje was exaggerating. 

“So… umm, they said you were assigned to be my mentor or something? They didn’t really explain much.” 

Sharaje turned to face her again, “Yeah, they told me you were in some kind of fucked-up chastity cult and-” She stopped mid-sentence to deliver a sharp slap across Ricki’s face. “Hey! Stare at my tits when I’m talking to you!” 

Ricki was stunned, but obeyed, turning her eyes to stare intently at the perky nipples straining against the tight, plum colored fabric as she continued. 

“So anyway, they thought I’d be good at de-programming all the stuff your ugly, feminist cunt-mom and her cult friends taught you because I’m captain of the bullying squad here.”

“Bullying squad? What’s-” 

Ricki was interrupted by a twenty-something statuesque blonde woman who entered and stood at the front of the class. “Okay, sluts,” she announced with a serious expression, “Class is starting, so get your sexy teenage asses in your seats.” The girls scattered around the room casually made their way to desks. Sharaje indicated at a seat directly in front of her where Ricki was to sit.

The teacher’s face turned to a look of shameful resignation as she introduced herself, “I’m Miss Fartface, please feel welcome to fart in my face because I love the smell and taste of dirty teen girl assholes.” Her voice was mechanical, as though forced to read from a script. The students laughed at her. 

Ricki felt Sharaje’s breath on her ear as she whispered, “She’s actually straight, and a major germaphobe. Her owner makes her act like she’s obsessed with face-fucking our shitters to humiliate her.” 

The teacher went on, now speaking more naturally, “I understand we have a new student joining us today.” she said looking at Ricki; or more accurately, at her tits, “Would the new cunt please come to the front of the class and introduce herself?” 

Ricki’s heart was beating in her throat, but she made her way to the front of the room on shaky legs. All the other girls appeared to be staring at her body judgmentally; she’d never felt more on display. 

“M- my name is R-Ricki,” she began unsteadily. She could already see a lot of the other girls in class openly showing disgust at her name. “My stupid feminist mom cunt gave me that name… umm, I grew up in a… a fucked-up chastity cult… and that was bad? But now I’m going to try to learn how to not be a dumb feminist, and to be a good girl, like all of you?” 

She looked out at the rows of desks hoping to see a glimmer or approval, she was trying to hard to assimilate to their world, but it seemed so unfamiliar to her. 

A sudden voice from the back of the room broke the silence, “Hey, show us your pussy!” It was Sharaje. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Was it just an obscene jeer that she could ignore? Several seconds of silence passed. Ricki looked around to see expectant faces. She tried to go on as though nothing had happened. “I look forward to making a lot of new friend-” 

“Ricki, you’ve been given a command.” The teacher stated flatly. She couldn’t believe this was real. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been so bad. It was a room full of girls, after all. But Ricki was getting the distinct impression that the other girls were waiting to mock and criticize her most private areas. What was worse was that it appeared that one of the other classes had let out recently, and the courtyard just past the floor-to-ceiling windows was filling up with students of both genders who could easily see into the classroom. 

“Are you fucking retarded? If I have to ask again, I’m going to strip you naked myself and have every girl in class fist you. At the same time.” Sharaje had a certain authority to her words that made her believe the threat wasn’t hollow. 

Ricki lifted the hem of her dress high enough that she could pin it to her chest with her chin, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them to the floor to reveal a rather unkempt patch of fur between her legs. 

She heard a few of the girls pointedly making noises of disgust at the sight of her ungroomed bush, but before anyone could articulate an insult, an Asian girl cosplaying some slutty anime character spoke up.

“Hey, what’s that weird diaper thing she was wearing under her dress?” For a brief moment, Ricki’s humiliation was replaced with confusion. Diaper thing? 

“They’re called panties,” the teacher began, “They’re not very common anymore, but before the Virus, almost all women wore them under their clothes. Nowadays, they’re mostly worn when men dress up girls in historically accurate costumes.” 

“Wait,” a different girl chimed in, “Wouldn’t cunts need to take them off every time they got fucked?” 

“Oh!” Yet another girl began, “Girls used to get, like, pussy-diseases back then, huh? I bet those pantie-thingies used to be, like, a code so that everyone would know that a girl was just for face-fucking, right?” 

“That’s a good guess, Ditzy, but no.” Miss Fartface explained. “Actually, before the Virus, the average girl went weeks or months without being fucked. By some reports, certain women actually went years.” A few of the students looked shocked or saddened. 

Ricki wanted to cover her naked crotch during this exchange, but dared not cover herself without permission. 

“But didn’t they get sick and die if they didn’t get fucked everyday???” Ditsy asked. 

“She’s talking about before the Virus, stupid!” A nerdy looking girl in a too-small school-girl outfit said condescendingly to Ditsy. “I read that girl’s used to live as long as men, but hardly any of them got to have sex more than a few times a week.” 

“Oh my god! Did men used to be, like, super mean in the old days?!?” Ditzy exclaimed. 

“That’s enough, cunts.” The teacher said, quieting the chatter. “Actually, men have always been kind enough to fuck us, and at many points in history, they tried to create societies to put women in our proper place where we could be happy as servants and fucktoys; However, these men endured abuse and harassment at the hands of feminists who believed that cunts deserved to be equal to men.” 

Sharaje raised her hand. 

“Yes, Sharaje?” 

“How did they think cunts could be equal? I mean, everything I do is to please men. The way I talk, the way I eat, the way I dress. I abuse other cunts because it gets me attention from men. So if feminists somehow didn’t care about pleasing men, than why do anything? Did they just want to lay in the dirt until they die? What’s the purpose of a cunt even existing if she doesn’t please anyone? It’s not like girls can get pleasure without men.” 

The blonde teacher just shrugged, “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know. It’s true that the health and happiness of cunts is conditional upon their ability to serve and please the superior sex; and that’s been explained to feminists many times throughout history, but somehow they were too stupid to even understand that simple fact. It’s why the Sodom Virus was such a godsend. Who knows how long it would have taken society to progress to where we are today without it. And while we’re on the topic of pleasing men, why don’t we all go around the room and mention one way that our new student here could improve her fuckhole?” 

With that, the classes attention was back on Ricki, or more accurately, their attention was on her exposed genitals. The teacher went down each row. 

“It’s way too hairy. Some men like that, but she needs to at least trim it properly.” 

“Her pussy-lips are too big, she needs to get those trimmed, too.” 

“Also, do you see how dark they are?! Look really close, her whole pussy is a darker color than the rest of her. It’s so fucking disgusting!” 

“It should be puffier. Puffy pussies like mine are super cute. Hers isn’t cute at all. 

“She needs to spread her legs more; She doesn’t even know how to show her fuckhole correctly!” 

“Well her thighs are so short and fat, even if she did spread, you can barely even see her pussy through all the flab.” 

“I don’t think we talked about her cuntlips enough. They’re wrinkly, too. It’s super gross, it looks like she stuffed roast beef in her twat and some of it’s coming out.” 

“It looks like it smells bad, too.”

“Oh my god, you’re, like, so totally right! I don’t want to get close enough, but it looks like it’d smell like dead fish!” 

“It wouldn’t even be sexy to make a girl eat her out. A man would only make me lick her pussy if he was punishing me!” 

The onslaught of humiliating insults wasn’t even half over, and Ricki was already openly bawling. The girls seemed indifferent to her tears as they continued hurling deeply personal jabs about her most intimate area while she was forced to display herself. She could barely see through the tears, but she could still tell that there was a small cluster of boys and girls looking through the window and giggling to one another as they observed the degrading ritual. 

Thankfully, it was nearly over. Sharaje was the last one to comment on her parts. 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even call that thing between her legs a pussy. There’s no way it could ever please anyone. If I were her, I’d just get the whole thing cut off and sew up the hole. Better to be a two-hole whore than to make men look at something that fucking ugly.”  

Somehow, Sharaje’s comment hurt the worst. Being taught that her primary reason for existing in this world was to get fucked, and then being told that the hole created solely for that purpose was worthless devastated her. It made her feel like a failure as a woman. 

Ricki made her way back to the empty seat in front of Sharaje and wept quietly as the teacher spent the next few minutes explaining the intricacies of female humiliation and degradation. Focusing mainly on their necessity to inoculate against the threat of feminism. She used the verbal hazing Ricki had just endured as an example multiple times throughout the lecture. 

Eventually the teacher segued into explaining their assignment for the upcoming week. “You are each going to be given two cards, one of them is going to have a fetish that will degrade, dehumanize, and/or objectify you. The other card will have your enjoyment level of the fetish; categorized as reluctant, eager, or desperate. Each of you is to sincerely live and embody your assigned fetish with your assigned enjoyment level for the next week. And for those of you who choose “reluctant,” you still need to make every available attempt to fulfill your new fetish, even though it humiliates or disgusts you!” she finished with a smile. Miss Fartface seemed to have plenty of experience being forced to live out a fetish she hated, so perhaps the smile was due to a certain sense of sadism at getting to have her students do the same. 

“Sharaje, you went last when we were shaming Ricki for her ugly cunt-hole, why don’t you go first this time and show the other girls how to properly announce their new fetishes to the class.” 

“Sure! But since you’re not going to be using your tongue to lecture, you really should be using it to clean all of our assholes, don’t you think? I mean, that is your favorite thing in the world, isn’t it??

The teacher’s smile faded and she stared daggers at the middle-eastern beauty. “Yes, of course.” She said in a reluctant monotone, “I’d love to shove my tongue in each and every one of your dirty teen assholes.” 

“And?” Sharaje pushed with a sadistic grin. 

The older woman sighed, “And thank you again for making me follow you to the bathroom last week so that you could use my tongue as toilet paper, Sharaje. I can never thank you enough for allowing me to use my ugly old tongue to lick the shit from your perfect, young asshole. I beg you to please let me do it again as soon as possible, and as often as possible.” Miss Fartface was almost sneering in disgust at the memory, but at the same time, there was no way she could refuse to humiliate herself while teaching a class on female humiliation. Sharaje delighted at the torment as she skipped to the front of the class where the blonde woman grimaced as she forced her tongue inside the pristine teen anus. 

Sharaje flipped over the cards assigned to her and her face lit up. “Yes! I got the best one!” She looked out at the other girls in class with a toothy smile and even waved to some of the students out past the window to come closer to hear.

“So I know I’ve never mentioned this before, but it’s actually probably my biggest kink. I’ve always had this fantasy of getting fucked by dogs while a lot of people watch. And I mean, like, a LOT of people. The way I picture it, everybody has their camera phones out and they’re getting good shots of dog-cock in my pussy and ass. Maybe videos of me sucking a dog’s dick straight out of my butthole. Definitely get my face in the picture, and post it online with my name and ID number. I want everyone to know forever that I’m a dog-fucker. It should be the first picture that comes up anytime someone searches for me online. I seriously want it to follow me around for the rest of my life. I’m super glad I got an “eager” card for this, because there’s no way I could be reluctant, it’s just… Oh my god, it’s just the hottest fucking thing to think about, I almost came as soon as I turned the card over.” 

She finished by roughly yanking the teacher’s face from between her butt-cheeks and returning to her seat. The next girl took her place at the front of the class and explained her fetish while being rimmed by the teacher. Ricki wasn’t exactly sure if all the girls were acting like they loved the fetishes they were supposed to love and hated the ones they were supposed to hate, or if the teacher was just nice enough to make things easy on them. Either way, she learned a variety of things about the strange, horrible, and disgusting acts that some people seem to fetishize. 

Finally it was her turn. She timidly made her way up to the front of the class. She gasped slightly when the teacher lifted the hem of her dress, pulled down her panties to began tongue-fucking her ass. Even though she’d seen it happen to about two dozen girls before her, she still wasn’t totally prepared for it. 

She turned over her cards one at a time. “Reluctant” was written on the first. Good, she thought, at least she wouldn’t need to pretend to like whatever horrible thing she had to say she was into. She turned the other card over and her heart sank. Tears once again began to well up in her eyes. 

Without looking up, she began, “Hi… so my fetish, which I love, is having my pussy destroyed, and made even uglier than it already is. I want… I…” She broke down and heaved heavy tears for several seconds before she could continue. The teacher being forced to tongue-rape her up the ass didn’t relent. “I want my vagina so totally destroyed that it can never bring me pleasure. So that I can be denied orgasms for the rest of my life, and so that my pussy gets so ugly that no one would ever think of fucking it ever again.” 

She tried to control her weeping while she rushed back to her desk. The teacher said that this concluded first period and that they could socialize while waiting for their next class. Sharaje wasted no time and was already being sodomized by a boy who’d been waiting outside. Another girl was on her knees letting a man piss in her mouth through the strangely low windows. Ricki seemed to have figured out the purpose for their unusual placement now.

Everything going on around her was so obscene, it was like the men in this world regarded them as little more than masturbation toys. Was she really never going to get to go back to her old life? Was she really going to have to ask people to destroy her vagina so that she could never have another orgasm? Everything was already so horrible and it was only just the end of first period!

[writingismyhappytime]

Kiss the Devil (Part 12)

Warnings: Language, Violence

Taking his soul had been a complete accident.

You're not even sure how it had happened, if you're being honest. You'd just been leaning up against the trailer, smoking away, when someone had ambled up and begged for a cigarette. You'd jokingly asked them their soul for it, and when they'd heartily agreed --- well, you got yourself a new soul. And some healed ribs. Nice. That had never happened before. But you feel so much better, a nice perk of being a collector, and you're eager to find Ricky and put your health to some good use. But where is the asshole? You know his shows are over, but he's not answering his phone, so you might as well check his bus. You wander in its direction, your steps quick and purposeful across the lots, your badge hanging around your neck. Really, you think it's kind of dumb you even need one, but you get the reason. You just don't like anything around your neck. You flex your hand, feeling the new soul warm and running through your system, almost energizing really. Where the hell is Ricky!? You call him again, only to go straight to voice mail, and you're growing irritated now. Of course he has his phone off! Ass! ~~~~~~ Ricky fumbles with his phone, feeling it go off. He misses the call with a sigh, watching as his phone beeps at him one more time before dying. Dammit. It would've been fully charged if someone hadn't unplugged all the extension cords! "Did you hear about the new guitars?" Ryan asks, helping Ricky load some of the equipment onto the bus. "Yeah, but I don't like the way they look. Too rounded." "I thought they looked pretty cool. I was thinking about getting one." "Adding another to the fifty you have?" "Yup." Ricky chuckles, closing the side compartment of the bus, the chrome reflecting him and Ryan standing there. They both sigh, leaning back against the bus, glad the sun is on the opposite side. "So how's the girlfriend?" Ryan asks, bumming a cigarette off Ricky. "Why is that all any of you guys ever want to talk about?" "Because we're curious. I mean, dude, she's a badass. She has to be a kid of a legend or something. No one has those skills naturally. She's better then us." "I wouldn't go that far," Ricky chuckles, inhaling deeply off his cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his lungs before he slowly exhales. Much better, he'd been starting to crave one. "So are you guys officially together or...?" "No. I mean, we're just hanging out. There's nothing serious." Rickys lying through his teeth on the last comment. It's completely serious, at least to him. He doesn't want you with anyone else, he can't stand the thought of it. He feels possessive of you, annoyingly clingy; it's as if he's already lost you once and this is the second round, where he's desperately trying to get you to stay with him, like him as much as he does you. It's kind of crazy. He's only known you for maybe a month or more now, and yet you're under his skin, your violet eyes in his dreams. Well, when you let him sleep, that is. You're apparently a night person, you text him all hours of the night time. He's starting to wonder if the reason you're so grouchy is due to the fact you get maybe three hours of sleep, maybe a little more. You have nightmares, you told him once, although you didn't specify what of. What haunts you so badly? What memories won't let you rest? He wishes he could help, that he could do something to make your life a little easier. At this point, he knows you have a lot of shit to deal with, issues he can't even begin to understand. You don't talk about your life or family, definitely not past relationships, you seem to be into flings more then anything else. And Ricky won't forget when he'd found you after your "kidnapping," the way you'd looked, the words you'd whispered. Hunters. He still can't figure out what it means. Unless you're a werewolf or something like that, which he figures isn't true. Because as much as you'd scratched him during the last time you'd had sex, he'd been howling at the moon with you by now. Or did it not work like that? Eh. He didn't want all that extra hair anyway. Still, though.... what's going on with you? What are you involved in? Why is someone after you --- is someone after you? Rickys confused, and wary. And ever since he'd taken an interest in you, he swears someone is watching him. He can feel it, his skin crawls and his hair stands on end. He can't explain why, it doesn't make any sense, but it's a doom - filled feeling. Just like the relationship. It's doomed, and honestly he knows that. You'll never stay with him, you'll leave eventually, and he dreads the moment you do. That's not what he wants. He sighs as he drops his cigarette, grinding it out with his shoe as he sees the other guys approaching; he'd just gotten Balz to stop with the febreeze. "You guys ready to load up?" Chris asks wearily, stretching his long arms over his head. "If we leave now we can get ahead of everyone else and relax for a while." "Sounds good," Ryan agrees, flicking his own cigarette out. Ricky ignores Balz intense frown. Ryans so going on the bus first. "RICKY!" Eh? Ricky glances back, and blinks, seeing you stomping in his direction, your tennis shoes silent against the hard payment. You look irate, although he can't fathom what he's done to make you feel that way. You grab the front of his shirt as you near, your lips brushing against his ear. "I want you to come with me and fuck me so hard I can't walk for days. Right now. Anywhere we can find." Rickys eyes widen, and he feels the red flush his face. "Okay." Fine with him! Your fingers flex in the front of his shirt, and then you're dragging him behind you, leaving him to stutter out an excuse about car trouble before disappearing around the side of the bus. Chris groans; so much for leaving early! "Can't he fuck on his own time?" He grumbles; they're not idiots, the look on Rickys face had been enough to tell all of them what you wanted. "Technically this is his own time," Ryan chuckles. "Let him have his fun, anyway. It's not often Ricky bags someone like DJ Devil." "I think it's more like she's bagging him," Balz shakes his head. "I seriously think he got seduced and not the other way around." "As long as he's happy and back before we have to leave. I'm going to go nap." Chris says huffily, his band mates watching him go. "She's so cool, don't you think?" Ryan asks, pilfering through the cabinets for his Fruity Pebbles. "Like her music skills are top as fuck." "I guess so. None of us have really heard her remixes ---." "What!? Dudes! Holy shit I have a huge Playlist! Hold on one sec and I'll get my phone and I'll start playing them --- they're so badass!" ~~~~~~ "Kree ---." "Shh!" "But, Kree ---." "Shut up and let me undress you!" "But your ribs ---!" "My ribs are fine." "But ---." "Fuck me and shut the fuck up!" Ricky sighs, giving in as your lips close powerfully over his, silencing any more resistance he might have. He can't help it if he's worried he'll hurt you, can you even have sex with a broken rib? Isn't it bothering you anymore? Did you take a lot of medication!? God your hand feels so good down his pants. He groans against your lips, pressing you harder in the brick wall, his mind blanking everything out. He can just feel your skin against his, your hungry lips taking over his own, the smell of your perfume --- you intoxicate him, make him forget everything else. The two of you had darted around one of the large brick buildings housing extra equipment, a large green dumpster hiding the two of you from the prying eyes of those walking by. Ricky pulls on your shirt, jerking your tank from your jeans and up your waist, pressing you forcefully against the wall, his hands roaming down to squeeze your ass. You groan against his lips, your violet eyes flicking open to meet his bright blue. You can't keep your hands off him, your so inexplicably drawn to this dark haired man and you don't even bother to fathom why. You try to forget that you'll have to leave him in a few months, that you'll have to move on and pretend he never existed. It makes your chest ache in an odd way, one you can't explain. You don't want to think of a future without him in it, but you know he can't be in yours. You'd break his heart and probably more. You jerk on his jacket, wanting to hold him close, unable to peel your lips from his. "I'm addicted to you," he breathes against your lips. You smirk, kissing down his jaw to his tattooed skin, curling your fingers into his hair, closing your eyes in pleasure as his teeth nip at your flesh. Ricky... Your eyes ghost open, already dilated with lust, only then to widen in horror. "Ricky!" You gasp, a jolt of alarm shooting through your chest. Ricky half turns in surprise, looking over his shoulder to see why you're suddenly panicking. Oh shit! He doesn't have time to move as he sees the shovel swinging for his head, his eyes can only widen, heart beating painfully ---! Your hand shoots out, fingers curling around the wood of the shovel, putting yourself between it and Ricky quicker then he could even see you move! You scowl, staring at the surprised hunter in front of you. Amateur. You'd expected them to come after you again, but not in the middle of a crowded venue when you're with someone! "You fucking asshole," you snarl, taking a forceful step back and ripping the shovel from the shocked man's hands. He just had to ruin your make out session! You and Ricky haven't had any fucking time together lately, especially not since you'd gotten hurt, and now this prick has to come along and ---! You huff as the man fumbles hastily inside his jacket, looking seriously frightened of you. He backs up quickly, his back hitting the wooden fence behind him. You look at the shovel held in your hand, the wood biting into your throbbing palm. You look back at the hunter you know is after you, narrowing your eyes. Well then. You're not going to give him time to attack you again. You let the shovel drop enough to grab the handle, and then you brush forward, the metal bashing into the side of the hunters skull, a gasp wrenching from his throat seconds before he went crashing down, his eyes rolling back into his skull. There! You toss the shovel away, nudging him with your foot to make sure he is unconscious before squatting down, patting his clothes down. Seriously, he kept his wallet? Amateur! Doesn't he know how to kill someone? His previous associates had done much better! Ah, a cell phone! You fish it from his pocket, unlocking the screen curiously. "Kree?" Oh. You hesitate, then half turn, suddenly remembering Ricky standing a few feet away. His face is bloodless, his eyes wide as he stares at you kneeling over the unconcious man. Uh. "I can explain!" The words leave your lips before you can stop them as you rise, raising your hands in a placating manner. Now why did you say that? You so can't explain anything! "You better," Ricky says after a moment, trying to comprehend the situation. It had been in self defense, that's what they'd tell the police. The man had attacked them, after all, come at them with the shovel. Somehow.... somehow you'd stopped it, when it would have hit him square in the face, probably have broken his nose! How had you stopped it? The man is twice your size, yet you'd jerked the shovel from him so easily, like it was nothing! And the way you moved ---. You can't be human. You'd literally blurred right before his eyes, just a flash of violet. Ricky resists the need to take a step back when you approach him, his entire body rigid, where seconds before it had been so relaxed beneath your touch. He's uneasy, he knows he should have listened to his instincts weeks ago, left you alone --- yet even now he can't. He can't seem to make himself walk away, his brain is already trying to form a plausible explanation for whatever excuse your lips say. He stares at you, so pale and still you know you're in deep shit. What can you possibly say that would make sense? You're in humanly strong because you feed off the souls of the living, technically, hoarding and collecting their souls and staying young because of it. Well, you suppose you could just say that but he'd never believe you. No one would. So what do you say? How do you explain? Your eyes flick from Ricky to the unconcious hunter, who you know you need to drag from out in the open. You hover, then stow his phone in your pocket, grumbling under your breath as you grab his jacket and begin to drag him backward. Ricky just stands there, watching you silently as you prop the man and his blood - soaked head against the dumpster, frowning. What are you going to do with him? You need to call Yoltan, let him come and question the man --- or should you call the demon? No, no you can't do that. He'd question the man, learned Ricky saw everything and perhaps come after him. You can't risk it. Yoltan it is. Shit shit shit. "Ricky," you turn to him again, thousands of words dying on your tongue --- you don't know what to say! "Why did he come after you?" Ricky asks softly, his eyes dark as they find yours. "What's going on, Kree?" Uh. You're in the mafia. Drug cartel. You know someone's darkest secrets? "I...." "Don't lie to me, Kree." Ricky says, taking a step closer to you, his eyes burning into yours. Whatever lie you'd been about to tell dies on your lips, and you find yourself unable to sat another word. Fuck. "Why are people after you?" Ricky presses, his cool fingers suddenly curling in yours. You look at him helplessly, suddenly just wanting to tell him the truth. You want to tell him what's going on, why you're so recklessly endangering his life. You want to tell him everything, why you're working for a demon, what you've had to do to survive ---- but you can't. You can't tell him anything. You never can. You can't tell anyone. You shake your head mutely, a deep pain throbbing in your chest as you turn away, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. He can't know. He can't know anything. You kneel beside the hunter, instead turning your focus to him, knowing you can't waste time. You ---. "Kree, fucking talk to me!" Ricky suddenly snaps, grabbing your shoulder. "What the fuck is going on!?" "Ricky ---." "Don't. Don't blow me off right now!" He hisses, forcing you to stand up, to look at him. "Why the fuck did this asshole just try to take my head off with at goddamned shovel!?" Wow, he sounds genuinely angry. Um. "I can't tell you." "That's shit and you fucking know it! You can't just blow this off this time!" You don't see why not. You send an uneasy look at the hunter as he groans, lolling his bleeding head around. You need to do something with him, quickly! "Ricky, I can't argue about this right now!" You burst, whirling around. You spy the dumpster lid, quickly grabbing and tossing it back. "Can you help me lift him?" Ricky stares, then, "are you fucking kidding me?" "Ricky, come on! I need your help, don't be an asshole!" You grunt, shuffling your arms beneath the man. Ricky darts a glance towards the bustling crowd not fifteen feet away. He curses under his breath as he steps  forward, grabbing the man's legs and helping you efficiently drop him into the large dumpster. A sick feeling settles in Rickys stomach as he watches you hastily cover him with a few bags of trash, your movements quick. Have you done this before? What the fuck --- is Ricky dating a psychopath!? Aww shit. "Come on, we better get out of here," you mutter, snatching his wrist and dragging him after you, making him huff as you join the bustling crowd. What the shit!? ~~~~~ "He attacked you?" Yoltan practically bellows in your ear, making you cringe as you pace along the length of your bus, Ricky sitting tensely on the sofa. "Are you hurt!?" "I'm fine, really!" You assure him quickly, hearing the anger in his voice. "I tossed him in the dumpster and got out of there. I got his phone though." "--- don't look at it until I see you!" You blink. "What?" "Its... it's just that if you open it and it has a pass code, it could delete all the information and we get nothing," he explains, your frown merely increasing. "So just wait for me, alright? I'll be at the place you're playing tomorrow, we'll figure this out. So you're sure he didn't hurt you?" "Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure." Yoltan sighs, and you know hes pinching his nose --- he always does when he's worried. "Alright. Be safe, (Y/N). Tell me immediately if something else happens!" "I will, I will," you sigh, ending the call before he ordered you to do something else. You tap the phone worriedly against your lips. You're going to have to leave, aren't you? The thought makes you incredibly sad. "Kree?" Ricky stands, frowning. The two of you are on his bus, the first one you'd come too. You'd just wanted to be out of the crowd, so you'd followed him on to call Yoltan. You can hear the others on the bus, moving around in the bunk area, but the front is empty. You should go. You should go straight to your bus and pack your things and just leave... that's what you should do.... "Kree, what's going on?" Ricky asks, seeing the upset look on your normally irritated face. Your eyes flick to his, and he can see it all over your face. You're going to run. "No!" He darts forward just as you start for the bus door, your mind made up. You'll get your shit and you'll bail, never to be heard from again. You won't endanger his life just because yours is fucked, he doesn't deserve that! "Kree!" He grabs your arm, jerking you back a few steps, and you let him step in front of you, block you way out. "What's going on!?" You chew your lip, unable to choke a single word out. Ricky sighs, his hands rising to cup your face, surprising you. Your violet eyes rove uncertainly to his, feeling his rough fingers caress your cheeks. "Tell me the simple version," he murmurs, making you sigh. "What's going on?" "I...." the simple version? Is there one? "I can't tell you here," you whisper, shaking your head as you lean into his touch. "Not here." Someone could overhear. "Then we'll go somewhere else," he tells you, lightly kissing your nose. You're frightened, he can practically see it on your skin --- you're afraid and him yelling at you won't make you anymore likely to tell him what's going on. So he'll be calm. He'll be calm and help you be calm, and everyone will be calm. And then he can get the truth. one way or another. Ricky dips his head forward, brushing his lips against yours. You sigh heavily, leaning into his warm touch as you return his kiss, finding a sense of comfort that he isn't running from you. Why isn't he running? Why is he still kissing you and not kicking you off his bus? Maybe when he knows, he hears what small truth you can tell him, he won't want to be with you anymore. Maybe then, when he doesn't want you, you can find the courage to leave. "Ahem. Hello." Oh! You and Ricky jerk apart immediately, cheeks flushing. You both look at Chris where he lurks in the doorway from the bunks, looking unimpressed. He looks at his cell phone. "Wow, look at the time." He says pointedly. "Almost seven. We should get going to the next venue." Eh. "I --- I was just going," you mutter, embarrassed; why did it bother you so bad you'd been caught kissing him? Everyone knows of your relationship, or whatever it is. You hastily start to walk away, hearing Ricky behind you, walking you down the steps. "Do you want me to walk you ---?" "The fifty feet away? No point," you shake your head, Ricky hovering on the bottom step above you. "I'll be fine, I can take care of myself." Yeah, you'd proven that already. "You'll text me, won't you?" He says softly, needing assurance. "You're not....?" Going to run? You haven't decided. "I'll let you know I'm on the bus." You say, nodding your head. Ricky doesn't look content, but he supposes he won't get a better answer. He watches as you walk away, a thousand questions whirring through his mind. All he wants is the truth. Is that so much to give?

[decodervon]

Day 3, part one.

I woke up crying. I thought about if i trusted her and if i thought she was still texting him. i decided that i did fully think she was either still texting him/in a text message group with him to some capacity. my logical side leans more towards the group thing, but my anxiety leans more towards the group. ugh. what a horrible, terrible decision for it to be him. i mean, when it was vegas or leah, these are people who were removed. who easily could be dropped. but she chose someone she WORKED with. Like, that makes all of this a thousand times harder. AND he's part of her work friend circle. which means if she wants to be social (she does) then she sees him EVERYDAY. that makes my anxiety go through the roof if i think about it too hard. And she normally goes drinking with her friends (including him) on fridays. which i expect her to do. we agreed on boundaries, but she voiced for a moment that she didn't want to follow the drinking one. (she wouldn't drink without me) and while normally i wouldn't care, she would definitely only break that around him and her friends (boundary 2 was to severely reduce her optional time with him. like not hanging out and going to his house and spending the damn night) and i fully believe that sober, boundary 2 would never be crossed. but drunk? inebriated in anyway? hell. i could be standing right next to her and she'd be all about seeing his gross fat body again. it's like telling someone to not play with fire and not to go into the dynamite shack. individually, not too terrible, but one will lead to the other. or atleast it has so far. my anxiety fuels that logic a little, but only a little. it's been proven like 5 times at this point. Like, i'm having a hard time justifying still wanting to continue things with her after those times it's already happened, let alone scramble to try and make sure it doesn't happen again. i don't understand. i'll never understand how she doesn't understand how much that hurts. accident or no. like i'm almost crying right now thinking about it. How can she say she loved me and hold me and then... be with him? I mean... she's known that i've equated sex and love pretty closely forever. I don't really want it to be that way, but it's like if someone was allergic to cats. a tragedy, but nothing you can really do about it. and she's always told me she never equated that stuff so she never cared. which was the basis of me seeing Sara. But i found out that still super hurt her. and that's fine. maybe she thought she was cool about it and found out it's not that way. fact is: once i realized how it hurt her, i stopped. cold. because that's not what any of this was suppose to do. we weren't suppose to hurt each other. i was lonely and wanted a replacement for her, because she's... she means a lot to me. She's my other half. i feel like i'm trying to learn to live half-alive. And i know she felt lonely too.. but this was all so she didn't have to deal with relationship stuff and focus on her (which is also the point of the communication hiatus) and she... choose to focus on more relationship stuff. (hanging out and banging a dude is relationship stuff, no matter how you slice it) And she... kept doing it. even after i told her how it broke me. i feel so sick and broken. and i hate how she did it to me. like... i trusted you. it's like someone (me) saying their weakness is water and you're (her) immune and then after they (me) douse you (her) with water, you (her) hit them (me) with a firehose. this is all so fucked up. i take so long to heal from these type of wounds. betrayal is the hardest thing i've ever had to deal with. i felt betrayed. i think from the moment i was a kid and understood what my birth father had done, betrayal became my number one kryptonite. and she's... she's been exemplary these last few weeks... telling me the truth. caring about me. doing everything right. am i still a horrible shithead if im still suspicious? i'm still paranoid she's laughing and joking and talking with him behind the scenes and i know a lot of that is my paranoia. but i don't know if it's ALL paranoia, you know? i had access to her phone the other day and i looked at it and thought "should i look? i've looked before and found damning evidence. what stops me now? why shouldn't i?" (i also wanted to change the song) but i ended up not doing it. i gave her her phone back and moved on. i want to trust her. but she's voided my trust so many times in the last few months, my body trying hard to stop me from letting myself get hurt again. i wish she was like me. i love volunteering information. like if she wanted to see my texts to Sara or whatever, i would show them. i would keep proving with hard evidence that i was still honest and in this. over and over and over if i had to. a million times. because i understand paranoia now. i understand what it's like to have all of your brainpower spent looking over your shoulder and wanting to spy on someone. it's horrible. it's hard and terrible and i don't want that feeling. and if knew she had it or was feeling it, i would show her my damn phone everyday. but she's not like that. and it's hard to go "yeah, she's totally not hiding anything" in that situation. ugh. i feel crazy. i feel so damn crazy. it's not even 8am yet and day 3 is the hardest so far. right now is where i would call her and cry and she'd be beautiful and talk and help me calm down, even at her own work. I don't really understand. not that, but... this hiatus is suppose to make us work on ourselves more. But all this does is encourage me to alleviate myself. like, if i do have anxiety in this future with her in it, i wouldn't be calling her the morning. i'd be dealing with it alone. and with myself. like, she had a lot of things to be working on, since her surroundings (her house and fixing/building it) affect her mood at her core. so she has this whole house (which is definitely an amalgamation and living representation of her life) to work on and fix. and.... i don't. i'm happy in my house. with my life, my room. i now have to go out into the world and find... something. something i thought i had found in her. and spending two weeks relying on myself? i already do that. i mean. when i don't trust someone, i do not take their help. in ANY way. if i was on fire and HE had a bucket of water, i would try and drown him in it. WHILE on fire. oh man. i'm gonna make dustin draw that. No! Ricky! hahaha. anyways. i don't accept people's help i don't like or at close to... and i feel like if i'm gonna be spending more time managing myself, why would i ask her to? i can't imagine her seeing it any other way than taking an emotional step back from her, which i guess i will be doing. sigh. it's just... sad. i feel like we worked so long and hard on these steps and now we have to walk them back. but... maybe that's for the best. maybe i do need to manage my own feelings and not depend on her. i think i'm gonna go to the Dependacy Anonymous thing on thursday. see what it's about. try to empower my broken self or whatever. god, this all sucks.