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evafrechette · 3 years

Text

It’s a Match

↠ yoongi x jimin | smut | hookup au | 18+ | 3.4K

↠ Summary: Loneliness can make you do questionable things. Like signing up to a dating app to suck the cock of a stranger.

↠ Warnings: deep throating, public blowjobs, cum sharing, kind of a social media au - but not, drunk Yoongi, flirting, masturbation, gagging.

Yoongi never thought he'd be desperate enough to download the app on his phone, but here he was at 11:37 on a Friday night, finger hovering over the install button.

"Ahhh fuck it.."

He clicked and watched as the app downloaded and installed on his phone. He never thought it would get to this point. He'd been single for years. Preferring his own company, he never found it necessary to date. People annoyed him, too loud, too intrusive, too manipulative. So he remained alone. But 4 years is a long time to be on your own and he was starting to grow tired of his own hand. Plus he'd watched evey fucking video there was on his favourite porn site a year ago. That should have been the sign he needed to get laid, but his dumb ass wallowed in misery for another 12 months and that's why he's here now, creating a profile in the hopes of getting fucked this weekend.

A frown formed on Yoongi's face, he had been scrolling through profiles for the last 30 minutes and hadn't matched with anyone. He knew it was because he was being incredibly picky, swiping left on nearly every single profile he'd come across. He wasn't gonna get his dick sucked carrying on like this. He swiped left on a profile of a man in his 40s - already starting to bald, arms wrapped around a girl half his age - when his eyes landed upon the profile of a young man.

Yoongi was intrigued. The man had the prettiest face Yoongi had ever seen, beautiful plush lips pulled into a seductive smile, with his blond bangs hanging over his eyes. Yoongi clicked to view the profile in full, Jimin - the beautiful man's name was Jimin. He used emojis in his profile, which made Yoongi let out a frustrated groan. He hated emojis, too childish. He continued to read the profile and decided that the two of them were too different and even though the man was beautiful he would swipe left, like he had been all night. Maybe it was an accident or maybe Yoongi's subconscious wanted those plush lips around his cock, because instead of swiping left he swiped right.

He put the phone down and got up to make a drink. He shouldn't have a coffee this late, but apparently he was living recklessly tonight. With the steaming hot drink in his hand he climbed back onto his bed. He took a sip of the dark hot liquid when he heard the ding of a notification. He cautiously leaned over and grabbed the phone, swiping away his lock screen. He could see that he had been notified of a match, so he quickly opened the app, curious as to which one of the very small pool of men he'd swiped right on that would like him back. Yoongi could feel his cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't expect to match with the blond with the lips to die for. Not only that, but the man had messaged him too.

Yoongi couldn't tell him the truth, he WAS going to swipe left, what the fuck happened with that anyway.

Yoongi choked on his coffee, Jimin looked like an angel, but an angel wouldn't talk that way. How the hell does he respond to that? Does he even want to respond to that? He placed his coffee on the side table and dragged his hand through his hair. If he didn't take this opportunity his blue balls would actually kill him. Well fuck, his response just made him sound like the world's most pathetic asshole.

Yoongi checked the time, it was quite early in the morning now. The coffee had helped wake him up, but the prospect of meeting with the cute man had him feeling even more awake than what was humanly possible. The two of them talked for the next few hours. Sharing stories of their worst dates, childhood pets, who was more powerful Superman or Ironman and their favourite songs. Yoongi finally said goodnight and put his phone on the charger. They had agreed to met at Jimin's favourite bar the 'Hit List' at 8pm that night. Seventeen hours for Yoongi to work himself up into a worried hot ass mess. Fucking great. And yet as he stared up at the ceiling a small smile broke out on his face.

Yoongi spent his Saturday doing everything he possibly could to distract himself from his date that evening. Was it a date? Do you call meeting some random off the internet to possibly fuck a date? He was too old for this shit. He rearranged his vinyl collection, read a decent chunk of his new book and practiced a few new songs on his guitar. Once the sky had turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink Yoongi knew he had to stop stalling and get his ass ready. He took an extra long shower, debating on whether to do some manscaping (since all the young kids do it these days) before deciding not to. He liked his bush, and if pretty boy wasn't a fan well tough shit for him.

He teamed his black and white shirt with a pair of black jeans ripped at the knee, a leather jacket and finished it off with a few pieces of jewellery. With one last look in the mirror Yoongi slid his phone and wallet into the pocket of his jeans and left his apartment. Just as he stepped into the lift his phone pinged. It was a message from Jimin.

*******************

Jimin is sitting at the bar when Yoongi arrives. He's deep in conversation with the bartender, so Yoongi stands by the entrance awkwardly looking around. It's a nice place, very quiet and intimate. It's dark, a few low hanging lights scattered around and tealight candles sitting in a whisky glass on each table. To his right is a large floor to ceiling window, surrounded by a mix match of old leather chairs. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air. Oddly this smell starts to calm Yoongi down, it reminds him of his grandfather. Okay, now he's nervous again. Thinking of his grandfather at a time like this?

"I'm a fucking mess." he mutters to himself as he walks over to the bar.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt, Jimin right?"

The blond turns his head and smiles, he is really more beautiful in real life Yoongi thinks to himself. He's wearing a black shirt with one too many buttons undone, his hair parted in the middle falling gracefully to each side framing his angelic looking face.

"Mmm that's right and you are?"

Um what?! Fuck, Yoongi knew he made a mistake by coming here. Ahh fuck, why did he have to make that stupid profile? He loved Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2, he could have easily watched it 100 more times.

"Relax cutie, I'm just playing, you should have seen your face," a giggle escaped from Jimin's lips. "Nice to meet you Yoongi." he stood up and extended his hand out to shake. Yoongi quickly wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and returned the handshake. Jimin's hand was engulfed in Yoongi's. He looked down and couldn't help but smile at the scene. Jimin's hands were so petite compared to his. It was a rather lovely sight.

"Order yourself a drink and we'll go sit over there." he pointed to the leather chairs Yoongi has been eyeing up earlier. He ordered an Irish Mule for himself and a Negroni for Jimin. He carried the drinks to the table, while Jimin followed closely behind. A little too close Yoongi thought. He could smell his perfume starting to mix with the smoke smell. It was a delicious combination.

The first half an hour was straight up torture for Yoongi. Even though the two of them had spent the night messaging each other it was different once he was sitting face to face with the most stunning man in all of Seoul. Yoongi avoided eye contact, mumbled and laughed dryly at Jimin's jokes. He was well and truly fucking this entire thing up.

Jimin huffed "You don't have to stick around you know, you can leave whenever you want."

Yep. He had fucked this up.

"Uhh it's not that," Yoongi starts to bite at his thumb nail "Jimin, I'm terrible at this. People stress me the fuck out, I haven't been laid in four years, I don't like leaving my apartment, you are lovely, fantastic even and that's making me even more nervous."

Jimin played with the hoop in his ear while looking directly at Yoongi, he tilted his head to the side "How can I help you relax? I thought we clicked last night?"

They did

"I'm sorry I make you nervous, I can't help it that I'm so cute." Yoongi finally looked into Jimin's eyes and they burst into laughter.

"It's not your fault. Fuck it, I need another drink . . or five that will help." he rolled his eyes before waking back to the bar.

With a few more drinks in him Yoongi was relaxed, he could feel the whiskey warming up his body. The heat in his stomach though, he was sure that was because of the attractive man sitting in front of him. The discomfort had finally vanished and instead a mellowness had fallen over the two.

"I've always liked older men." Jimin purred, his delicate small fingers, adorned with multiple silver rings, brushing against the now half empty glass.

"Aiisshh I'm only two years older than you!" Yoongi huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but you act like you're nearly 60.” Jimin let out a hearty laugh, his eyes turning into crescents, cheeks plump and slightly pink. He slapped the table causing their glasses to shake. Yoongi quickly grabbed his to prevent it from spilling.

"It's not that funny." he didn't want to admit it, but the blond's laugh was hypnotic, he could watch Jimin laugh for hours and never tire of it.

Jimin straightened up, fingers now tracing the rim of the glass "I bet you don't fuck like an old man though."

Yoongi gulped and looked directly into Jimin's brown eyes, gone was the playful light, it was now replaced with desperate firey lust. He knew what the outcome of this date could be, and yet he was still nervous. He could feel his heart starting to race, his breath becoming faster. "Aaahh shit" Yoongi thought to himself as his left hand started to twitch, the blond's smell - a mix of orange blossom and patchouli was becoming overwhelming, he needed to calm down, he'd cum within seconds if he didn't get his shit under control.

"Heh, well I guess you'll find out later huh?"

Jimin reached over and ran his soft fingers over Yoongi's hand, playing with the bracelets that sat around his wrist.

"Why don't I find out now?"

Yoongi's friends love roasting him for his personality change when drunk. All of a sudden the quiet reserved man becomes giggly and loud. Cracking terrible jokes and singing at the top of his lungs. Sober Yoongi would never dare dream of taking a stranger to the bathroom to jerk off. Drunk Yoongi though? Try to stop him.

"Mmm Jiminshi are you sure?”

Jimin giggled at this "You are SO cute" he continued to draw his fingers over Yoongis hands "Of course I'm sure, do you wanna go back to mine? Or we could go to yours if you're more comfortable with that..."

Without thinking Yoongi stood, grabbed the blonds arm and pulled him up. They walked towards the exit, but before descending the stairs they took a left and made their way into the restroom. Once inside Yoongi pushed Jimin against the door and started kissing at his neck. "Fuck! Jimin, there is no way in hell I can wait to get back to my place, I need to feel you now." Yoongi whispered between kisses.

Yoongi leaned down and kissed his exposed chest, thank fuck Jimin had left those top buttons open. They had been torturing Yoongi all night long, but now he was thankful for it. Jimin's skin was so soft and it faintly smelled like cherry blossom lotion but he wanted more. He was desperate for more. Jimin ran his hands through Yoongi's hair and grabbed hard. Small moans escaped his lips, which drew Yoongi even crazier. He undid the buttons on his shirt and stood back. Jimin had the body of a god. Perfectly sculptured, with beautiful brown nipples begging to be sucked on. Who was Yoongi to deny god his wish?

Jimin let out a squeak when Yoongi ran his tongue over his nipples, hungrily licking and sucking at them. His right hand found it's way to the bulge in Jimin's pants and he pressed his palm down onto it. Jimin was now starting to get louder which made Yoongi smirk, he lightly nipped on Jimin's nipple before standing up and leaning in to sloppily kiss Jimin on those perfect, perfect lips, the taste of spice and bitterness still lingering.

"Uuuhhh Hyung, please touch me."

"That's what I'm doing Jimin."

"No you asshole, I want to feel you properly, get my fucking dick out." Yoongi stopped and looked at Jimin, slightly taken back by the tone of his voice. But he just smiled back - a wicked smile.

Yoongi got onto his knees and began undoing the zip of Jimin's pants. He pulled them down to his ankles, he then drew his hands up Jimin's legs, enjoying how smooth they were. He palmed Jimin's cock through his underwear eliciting a moan from the man above him. Yoongi pressed his face into Jimin's clothed cock. He took a deep breath, Jimin smelled wicked, his arousal mixed with body lotion was rousing. He alternated between sucking and licking on the cock trapped behind Calvin Klein underwear. He repeated this action a few more times before finally removing the now very damp briefs.

Jimin wasn't the biggest cock Yoongi had ever seen, but he was thick and absolutely smooth. He stroked his long fingers over his chiseled abs, along Jimin's length and then down to his balls which he cupped in his hand, massaging back and forth. He let go and brought his hand to his mouth, running his tongue over his entire palm. It was so fucking dirty and Jimin shuddered at the sight. He reached back up and gripped Jimin's cock in his now saliva covered hand. He drew his hand up and down at a frantic pace. He was too worked up to go any slower, but Jimin didn't seem to mind by the noises he was making. Oh shit, he was being too loud now. They'd get caught and thrown out or even worse the cops called.

"Shit Jimin, you need to be quiet or someone will hear us.”

“Mmm Yoongi I don't think I can cutie, why do you think I said we should get out of here."

Yoongi huffed and slowed his hand down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jimin's briefs, so he picked them up, stood and shoved them in Jimin's mouth.

"That should shut you up.... Is that okay? I can take them out if you don't like it.”

Jimin shook his head and moaned around the underwear. His mouth was stretched open and drool already starting to pool at the corners. What a fucking beautiful thing to witness. Pleased with himself Yoongi got back on his knees and kissed the tip of Jimin's cock. His tongue played with the slit, circling it before he slowly kissed down each side of his shaft. He then licked the base to tip, never taking his eyes off Jimin's. They both looked so fucked already, pupils blown out, flushed cheeks and lips swollen from the rough kissing earlier.

He started pumping slowly, wanting to tease Jimin a little, the blond was impatient though and bucked his hips into Yoongi's fist, letting him know he wanted and desperately needed it faster. Yoongi let out a small chuckle and started to move his hand at a pace the gorgeous man would enjoy. Muffled moans of pleasure let Yoongi know he had found the magic speed. He continued like this for a few minutes before letting go and taking Jimin's cock in his mouth. Oh he tasted good - of course he did he was perfect in every way why would this be any different? Yoongi hollowed his cheeks as he bobbed up and down on Jimin's length, taking it deep before pulling up and letting go with a 'pop'.

He took hold of Jimin's cock and rubbed his lips all over the head, spreading precum all over his lips and chin. He felt like such a slut, but he was loving every moment of it. Yoongi closed his eyes and slowly buried Jimin's entire cock in his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned around the feeling, this was what he had needed. To feel stuffed by a pretty cock attached to a pretty man. Jimin was squirming above him, his panting and moans muffled by the briefs in his mouth, but there was no doubt he was in ecstasy just like the cock starved brunette. Yoongi felt petite hands fist into his hair and start pulling and pushing trying to take some control of the situation, Yoongi slowed down and allowed Jimin to start fucking into his mouth.

With each of Jimin's thrusts his grunts became louder as he was getting closer to his orgasm. Jimin wasn't the only one getting close, after having practically become a born again virgin, Yoongi's head was dizzy with arousal and he wasn't sure how much longer he would last, his grip on Jimin's thighs tightening, bound to leave light marks the next morning. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat from his stomach rise throughout his body, his muscles tensing as he felt his release. The wet patch in Yoongi's pants made him feel absolutely filthy. He came just from sucking someone's cock? Before he had too much time to start mulling over how much of a slut he is, Jimin spills his load inside Yoongi's hot mouth. He thrusts hard a few times causing the cum to spill out of Yoongi's mouth and dribble down his chin, landing on the floor.

Jimin hisses as he slowly removes himself from Yoongi's mouth, he leans down and Yoongi yanks the underwear out of his mouth before smashing his lips against the blonds. He doesn't care that his mouth is still full of Jimin's cum, he tastes so good he wants him to experience the intoxicating taste too. When their lips part Jimin stands to put his softening cock away. Yoongi stands with him and looks around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"Umm thanks for that, that was .. uhh really good."

Jimin's bewitching smile returns "Yeah, that was amazing cutie can't say I've ever had my underwear shoved into my mouth though, but there is a first time for everything. Come here and I'll treat you good too."

"Well um, no it's okay. Honestly. I may have cum already." he sheepishly replies, still avoiding any damn eye contact.

A small "oh" left his pouty lips "well I'm glad I could have been of assistance."

The two stood awkwardly for a while before Jimin held Yoongi's hand and walked him over to the sink. He made the older man sit on the bench while he cleaned up all the mess he had made. Yoongi's heart couldn't stop beating. There was no need for Jimin to be so nice after what they had just done, but here he was doing something Yoongi actually felt was more intimate than painting the walls of his throat with his cum.

"Ah there ya go, now you can go back into the real world without anyone suspecting a thing.”

They walked outside together in silence, Yoongi had never had a hook up before. Do you crack jokes? Profess your love? Or just act like what happened never did? His mind was a million miles away when soft fingers were suddenly stroking his cheek.

"Please message me anytime you want to see each other again, and I'll be the one doing all the dirty work okay?"

This made Yoongi blush "Yeah okay. Thank you Jimin, truly I had a great night."

And it was the truth, he had so much fun he could relive the moment in his head for the next four years. Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2 wouldn't be needed when the memory of small hands, captivating moans and cum drizzling down his chin was enough to get him hard again. It had been less than 20 minutes. God dammit!

#Bts smut #yoonmin smut #yoongi smut #Jimin smut #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #yoonmin #yoongi x jimin #yoongi #jimin #bts #bts imagines #suga #bts social au #bts social media au #bts fic #bts suga #armywriterssupport

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

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RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #tori amos #tori amos quotes

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

In My Mind x 05

Firm foundations and sturdy hands

still crumble under tyranny

---

"Where exactly are you taking me," you slur through toothpaste, spitting it in the sink before rinsing. It's still early, 8:45, but he's fast, putting on clothes in his room while you take the bathroom.

"Well you need clothes, I ain't forget."

"And hair products, a curling iron, satin cap, my own body wash," you add using his mouthwash. It's good he has extras of the basics. The bathroom door is cracked so he can walk in and hand you a stick of deodorant which you jam under your arms and set in an empty drawer with your toothbrush for your own. "Okay, v-neck come through."

Full business casual, he comes up beside you in the mirror brushing his shaved sides down and you walk out to put your shoes back on, wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The way out of the building is just as smooth as the way in. You take a staircase to a display where his glossy burgundy BMW sits with tinted windows and custom tags.. his trophy.. and then you get in. He presses a button and you sink through tinted glass looking out at the view until you reach ground and the wall goes up behind you allowing him to back out onto pavement.

"I'll never get over that," you mumble looking through the side mirror to watch the opening shut. His own private entrance. A 'sky garage' he called it.

"Nia.."

"Hm.."

"What do you think about Black Wall Street?" He's driving somewhat normal now, only six miles over the speed limit and you haven't felt like you were going to fall through the door yet which is a plus.

"Black business, black mecca."

"It's been the pinnacle of black successful business. If you look at Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Durham.. We were at the height of self-sufficiency. We had bankers, builders, mechanics, electricians, cooks, shoemakers, tailors.... hairstylists. Anything you needed, you'd get from your own people and it worked! We were putting money in each other's pockets and building wealth with each other, taking pride in our blackness instead of tryna be the third white race... you know Asians are the second."

"I was with you until that last one."

"Nia, you know what happened to all them cities?"

"They were destroyed."

"By who? Did we destroy ourselves?"

"Boy. Who are you, Dr. Umar?"

"That's what you think?"

You touch the small black, red, and green beaded necklace with the wooden brown carved Africa pendent sitting in his cupholder.

"Umar Johnson is an ignorant misogynist who uses his platform to spread false information while robbing his followers. That's what you think of me?"

You blink. "No, I only meant the superwoke part."

"Unlike him, I have a Ph.D and I don't think AIDS came from gay black men, but it was intended to decimate the black population."

"I get it, don't compare you," you mutter watching the Oakland city views through your tinted window. People are out, strutting and power-walking on sidewalks and jogging across streets to work.

"Who destroyed our black wall streets?"

"White people," you sigh giving him what he wants.

"Never forget that the US National Guard united with White Nationalists in 1921 to bomb and shoot up the Greenwood District of Tulsa. They destroyed 35 blocks of self-sufficient black business, murdering an estimated 200 people and injuring more. This is what happens when you and I pull ourselves up by our bootstraps in this country. Jackson Ward? Socio-economic assault. They built a highway right through it and put their own businesses around it to undercut our efforts. They chased us out and sent us to housing projects then filled them with drugs. You see where I'm going with this?"

"I think I'm starting to."

"Nia, you've seen my dreams, you've seen where I've been. I've stood on both sides and seen firsthand how easy it is to infiltrate and decimate an entire city, a region even with the right intelligence and firepower. Hell, I've even pulled the trigger and I'm not proud, but it was a necessary evil for me to see that it doesn't matter how strong you build or how pure your intentions are. When a government decides that you've surpassed the ceiling of poverty they've designed specifically for you they'll wipe out a generation, drug you up, and restart you from zero. Do you understand how deep this goes?"

You finger the beaded necklace in your lap. Of course you understand everything he's saying, but what he's expecting from you is a different story and you won't agree to anything prematurely.

"Where's the end," you ask. How will he know when he's accomplished this great mission he's been on for most of his life? It's all he breathes. Will he even survive without the fight as his purpose? Keeping your silence, you watch his profile as he turns left.

"Africa. Africa was the start and it'll be the end, but in the meantime we need to provide legal and physical protection here, major city by city. We need safe houses, secured and armed.. built to withstand the force of a nuclear weapon."

"How will you manage that?"

"How long will it take is the question." Pulling up to a building standing among other buildings, this one is as big as a high school with lettering across the front reading Wakandan International Outreach Center. Temporarily, you put the fact that you're supposed to be shopping to the back of your mind. You've heard of this place on the news, but somehow you didn't put this together. He parks in front of some well manicured bushes in a space marked for the CEO.

"You're the CEO?" You look around at the cars in the lot, the WIOC bus, and to the people walking inside.

"You ain't know? Ms. See Everything?"

"If I saw everything, I'd have figured this thing out between us. Don't ya think?"

He steps out and adjusts his tie. He's got the grey v-neck sweater vest, the white collared shirt underneath. The navy chinos.. and the navy oxfords.

Getting out, you spin showing off the same outfit you've been wearing and his brows raise subtly as you walk in beside him. Immediately he's rushed with greetings from the three people at the front desk, two guys and a girl, all wearing black WIOC shirts with blue and purple lettering that reminds you of a 90s paper cup pattern. Very stylish and retro.

The girl with the baby face and two long feed-in braids, is reaching out, grabbing your hand to stamp with some sort of mallet which he gently blocks with two fingers on her wrist before it makes contact.

"Shakila, this is an affiliate," he stares. The girl straightens, backing up meekly and the guy to her right.. the one with a rougher feel and a troublesome glint in his eye can't be over 21, you guess. He rolls out from behind the desk and you see he's wearing all black roller skates with orange and green swirled wheels. They look custom.

"72 people in the building, boss, counting you two. Ghost and Slim out patrolling, say we gotta bluebird.. 5-0 campin at Fuller's they up to something but they been quiet..up there since about 8:15 this morning."

"Keep watching. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yezzir." He rolls off down the hall and makes a right, disappearing.

"Donnie, how you doin," Erik asks the man who's been reading a magazine, chillin. He's bald, light skin, and looks over 40. He's also as big as Erik! His muscles make his t-shirt took like a muscle shirt, it's tight, but it seems more of a personal style choice than an issue of not being able to get a bigger shirt.

Erik taps the desk before continuing down a short hall that splits into three and you walk alongside him, making a left when he makes a left and passing two young boys in the hall.

"An affiliate?"

"They thought I was bringing you in for assistance," he clarifies and your face scrunches. "But you and your salon might be interested in becoming affiliates after I give you the tour."

"Really? Wow.." This thing with him just keeps getting stranger.

"This is the women's dorm," he stops in front of a large expanded room, a space filled with about.. "Twenty beds, ten bunk beds. Forty women can sleep here with their kids. They call and we hold the spot or they show up and take it. That's all the beds we could fit in there but I'm thinking of expanding. The men's dorm is on the other side of the building. Don't worry, we have security. No incidents yet. Further down," he leads and you follow him down the clean tile hall. He takes you into another opening that says locker room.

"It's like a YMCA in here." You turn looking all through at the rows of lockers with actual locks, the showers, four toilet stalls, four sinks.

"There are 60 lockers, eight showers, eight stalls, eight sinks, two washers, and two dryers."

"Y'all water bill high." Looking back to him, he smiles and nods for you to head out into the hall again as you follow him. "This place is nice, if I didn't have my apartment, I'd try to stay someplace like this."

"It's our safe place for homeless kids and families or just people who need a place to be without having to look over their shoulder, wondering where their meal coming from or who's after them."

Pausing, you look around and Erik stops. This place is beautiful. He's even got the babies' art hanging on the walls making the place warmer.

"You good?"

"Yeah.. You know, I'd actually love to be affiliated with this place. I wanna donate. How do I do that?"

"I'm glad you asked, Nia. Keep walking with me. Let me show you the rest," he smirks, speeding up as he unlocks a door with his handprint that lights up blue.

"What the hell," you mutter staring between him and the door.

"Staff only entrance. Extra measure to keep the women safe on this side, if you wanna leave or come in, there's one way and you gotta get through security, that way you're only back here if you're supposed to be.

"Makes sense."

Through the door is another hall that's perpendicular to the one you just left. You follow him left and come to a large open cafeteria full of people sitting at tables, eating. Men, women, small children, teens, all black for the most part. There is a sprinkle of darker skin that isn't black. A mother with three young kids and then an old man.

"How do you get away with only taking black people? Isn't that 'discrimination'," you ask with air quotes. Not that you take issue with it, you're just curious. He laughs.

"When the colonizers come we just tell them we don't have the space and if there's an issue we have Donnie escort them out. We don't get governmental assistance, we're not required to run how they think we should run. We screen everyone who comes through and take who we think will benefit from our programs.

"Wow, I'm with it," you smile following him to the food line.

"Gone 'head baby," the older woman in front of him waves for you both to go ahead. He puts his hand on her back and kisses her cheek and the line ahead happily parts like the red sea letting the both of you through with a quickness. They love him. They genuinely love him. They also all have stamps on their hand. One woman is trying to pull her stubborn toddler aside and out of the way, but Erik sweeps him up and sits the boy on his hip, winking at the woman before passing you a white dish and grabbing two more.

"What you want lil man," he asks as he goes through each option fixing two plates. One (sausage links, grits, eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, pancakes, fruit cup) for himself and one (sausage links, bacon, eggs, pancake, fruit cup) for the kid.

Choosing a table, you sit with your plate (some of everything because it looks good) and Erik follows, sitting across from you with the kid and the two plates.

"I'll get the drinks," you offer heading back to pick up two glasses of apple juice, making it to the table before returning for one more glass and three straws. You pass them out and take your seat, mouth watering and ready to eat.

"Bow your head and close your eyes, please." You lower yours and wait.

"I don't close my eyes." He lowers his head and you say the prayer as the toddler reaches into Erik's plate grabbing one of his sausages. Erik doesn't look up but he shakes his head with a slow smile and you try to keep from laughing as you finish saying grace.

"Amen," you snort picking up your fork.

"This why I keep my eyes open," he points to the kid, shaking his head in humor. He sets the boy in the seat and hands him a piece of his own sausage. Looking over, you see the mom approaching with her plate and an apologetic smile.

"Lord," she sighs. She's pretty though she looks tired. "I'm so sorry, he's a handful, I know."

"Not at all," Erik smiles. She sits next to her son and he automatically starts pulling on her, saying "mama, mom, mommy," just busy, so she pulls him onto her lap to keep him still. They're both cute and remind you of Lia and her son, Jackson.

"This is Chyna.. and Orion," he palms the boy's head playfully. "Chyna, this is Nia," he nods digging into his plate.

"Hi Nia," she smiles and you reach out to take her hand, asking how she is. She's great but ready to eat, she laughs and for a while you all just focus on eating.

"Mommy," Orion starts and you understand 40% of what he just said. His mom entertains him with hums of "Really? Oh wow," as she eats, feeding bacon into his hands.

"You here for a job," she asks looking up and it's an innocent question.

"I'm here on tour of the facility, just lookin-"

"Nia is an affiliate and potential shareholder. We're in discussion," he interrupts.

"Oh okay..," Chyna's eyes widen. "So you're getting a feel of the center. Let me tell you why this place is so important," she says all humor gone.

"Me and my son have been here for the past few nights.. a few nights before that.. and then maybe a week prior." She looks to Erik and he nods.

"His father, Rashaad," she continues, gesturing to her son, "He died last month and didn't leave a dime. I talked to his family and my family and they told me I could sign over his body and the state would cremate him," she pauses, still in shock from it. "...But I couldn't do that..." Tears leak from her eyes and you look around for a napkin. She swallows, her eyes turning pink, and takes a breath. "Then there was the rent.. We hadn't paid it for the month and our extension was running out," she sniffs. "Well I had a funeral to plan, I couldn't let the state take him."

Orion, feeling her sadness, rubs her face to try to make her feel better and she tries to pull herself together.

"So ah-" she wipes her nose. "I took a chance and contacted the Wakandan International Outreach Center and they not only paid for the burial and the coffin, they sent a representative to the funeral for words of encouragement and I'll never forget that," she sighs. Erik keeps his eyes down to his plate.

"See, his daddy.. was a hood," she continues, eyes dead on yours. You know what she's talking about. You don't have to grow up in Cali to have family in the streets. "He was shot out there in the streets in a driveby...," she sniffs. "And you know.. people like to talk a lotta shit, but even if he wasn't nothing to nobody else, he was someone to me. I loved him."

"We're working on getting Chyna a higher paying job to cover her rent," Erik interjects giving her time to wipe her face.

"Yeah, they paid the rent for the month and they're paying next month. I'm taking the class on building a resume now. I'm still working at Ross, I'm just trying to do everything I can.

"You're doing a lot," you offer and Erik gestures for you to stand to follow him out. "It was good to meet you and hear your experience," you smile shaking her hand.

"Thank you, and I'm glad you're trying to help. We need more people like him," she points to Erik.

"Shit, don't boost me," he smiles. It's something he's done a lot since he's been here and you've noticed that his smile is something that brings so much peace and a sense of safety to these people. Still, looking at him you can see deep down there's a spot in him that isn't touched. It's full of rage and intense sadness that his smile can't cover. If only the peace he provided to all these people would reach him.

@thickemadame @just-juicee @kenbieeereadss @honeytoffee

Previous Chapters:

#in my mind #original #erik killmonger x oc #erik x reader #erik killmonger x black reader #erik x oc #erik killmonger x reader #black panther killmonger #killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger fic

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mistwolf45 · 5 years

Text

Silver Roses

Chapter Three

"Why is he here?" Hellboy groans as he sat down in the briefing room.

Nuada stood, leaning against the doorframe as Manning set a dossier on the long, oval table.

"Because I asked him to be." He says simply. Hellboy grumbles to himself, keeping the Prince in his peripheral vision. Liz sat next to him and he rested his stone hand on the back of her chair.

Manning opens the file and pans through it. "We have some reports of a ghost whisperer -a real ghost whisperer- in rural Nebraska." He says.

"So what? It's a fake. A charlatan." Hellboy shrugs.

"Not this one, at least we hope." Manning says. He glances to the seat beside him where a young woman sat. She was a new agent, only in her twenties, but she was smart and very accomplished. Not to mention she had a special...ability. Controlling and manipulating electricity. Agent Lydia Bellaire.

"True ghost whisperers are almost impossible to come by. Mostly because the real ones don't make themselves known to the public. Typically it truly is fakes and charlatans putting on seance's and making money off of the public." She says.

"And we think this one is real because…?" Liz asks.

"According to anyone in town who had a reading by this girl, this…" Lydia took a moment to flip through the file looking for the name. "Rosemary Moore; well they claim whatever she predicted came true and she knew things that she truly couldn't possibly know."

Hellboy scoffs and chuckles. "Doesn't everyone say that about psychics?"

"These are a bit more extreme." Lydia says as she pulls some reports out. "Let's see…"She knew that I had been raped when I was 13 years old, which is something I never told anyone. She even told me his name and gave a description of him"."

"And she just... magically knew this?" Liz asks.

"No...she apparently channeled this woman's dead grandmother." Lydia says as she keeps looking over the file.

"So her grandmother knew and didn't say anything?" Hellboy raised a brow.

"Apparently the grandmother was dead long before the rape." Lydia sighs softly. "Ghosts are tricky things and from what I've gathered from research is that they can tap into all kinds of knowledge. Seeing into the future, or knowing things that simply shouldn't be known from the past and present."

"So...a psychic gets their readings straight from ghosts?" Liz asks.

"I'm not positive. That's why we'd like to go out and meet this Rosemary." Lydia says.

"And you wanna send us? This ain't a big deal, send someone like Myers." Hellboy says.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you liked going out." Agent Manning mocks, making Hellboy's face go a little redder.

"I was hoping it could be Hellboy, Nuada and myself." Lydia says as she stood.

"Him? Why him?" Hellboy juts his thumb behind him where Nuada still stood, silent and still like an old oak tree. His gold eyes narrowed at Lydia as he honestly wondered the same thing. Why him?

"Well we're short on agents at the moment, and I also want to test this ghost whisperer." Lydia says.

"Test how?" Hellboy asks.

Lydia reached into her bag and pulled out two necklaces that looked ancient and gold.

Nuada's eyes flashed and he stormed over.

"Where did you get these?" He hisses at the young woman who kept a good poker face, even though she felt her insides shiver with anxiety.

"Your sister." Lydia says simply. "She's already charmed them to you and Agent Hellboy specifically."

Nuada looked like he was seething. He hated seeing elvish relics in the hands of humans. They didn't belong there! And his own sister had handed them over...

"What are those?" Liz asks.

"Let the demon put his on." Nuada scoffs. "You'll see." He slipped away from the table to skulk in the corner.

Lydia held out a necklace to Hellboy and he looked at it as if she was holding out a dead cat. "What's that gonna do to me?"

"You won't feel a thing." Lydia sighs as she comes around the table to Hellboy. "The Princess already showed me and it's actually pretty cool."

Hellboy winced and closed his eyes as Lydia reached up and let the necklace fall down around his neck. He didn't feel anything but he heard everyone gasp.

"What? What happened?" He lets one eye crack open a little.

Lydia fished out a mirror from her bag and held it out to him and as he looked in he just about fell back in his chair.

"What the fuck." He says as he touches his cheek. He still felt the same but the face looking back wasn't him at all. He looked...normal. Pale, human flesh, blue eyes, salt and pepper hair. As Hellboy kept touching his face his fingers touched his horn stubs. He still felt the same.

"It's a glamor spell." Nuada explains. "So even creatures who aren't fae can change how they look."

"And if this girl is legit, she should be able to see through it. Literally or figuratively." Lydia says. "Plus you guys can go into town with me without causing a riot."

Hellboy was still looking in the mirror, checking out his face. He still looked like his original self in some ways, the build of his face and things like that. "Can I keep this?" He asks.

"No." Everyone else says in unison.

"Man this place is small." Hellboy looks out the window of the van as Lydia drove into the small town in Nebraska.

"Ogallala." Lydia sighs softly. "It's nice. It's quaint." She says.

Hellboy had already slipped on his glamor necklace and tucked it under his shirt to hide it. Nuada was in the back seat of the van, spread out and seemingly asleep.

Lydia drove through and pulled up next to a small motel. It looked cheap, but they wouldn't be staying here very long.

"Agent Silverlance, your necklace." Lydia says.

Hellboy looks over his shoulder at the elf prince. He was genuinely curious to see what he would look like as a human.

Nuada sighs and sat up, pulling his golden chain and amulet out of his pocket and slipping it over his head. In an instant he morphed into a handsome human. Tan skin and blue eyes. Instead of long hair his head had a close shave. It was a drastic change and he looked utterly normal.

"Let's do this." Lydia sighs as she got out. Hellboy and Nuada followed. It was overcast and humid, promising rain later. Lydia pulled her leather jacket tighter around her body. A chill in the air signaled Autumn was creeping in.

Lyida paid for a maximum of two nights for a room. The biggest there only had two beds which meant, if anyone got the chance to sleep she'd have to bunk with someone. She was already picking Hellboy because she was worried the elf prince might kill her if she was in the same bed as him.

They unload the bags they had brought and Lydia pulled out a local map and began going over it with a red marker.

"So one of these reports actually gives directions to the farmhouse." Lydia bit down on the marker cap and pulled it off before she began to go over the map.

"It's not too far from Ash Hollow." She mumbled around it.

"What's that?" Hellboy asks.

"There's a museum and everything. It's on the Oregon Trail. Some people died of dysentery." Lydia explains as she kept glancing at her papers and slowly traced a red line across her map. "I've heard it's really nice out there ...here we go." Lydia circles a spot in the middle of nowhere.

"The farmhouse should be right here."

After breakfast at a nearby diner -where Lydia had pancakes and yogurt, Hellboy ate as much as he could without drawing attention, and Nuada just had a cup of black coffee that he barely touched- they were off to the farmhouse.

It was a long drive out through nothing but corn and wheat fields and there were no other cars coming or going. Lydia let Hellboy drive since it was something he didn't get to do very often. She would reach over and shift gears for him so he didn't break the shifter with his glamoured stone hand.

A misty rain had begun to fall and the overcast got thicker. There was an ominous feel in the air with it and Lydia thought of the old "Children of the Corn" movies.

"This is a long damn drive." Hellboy groans. It felt like they'd hardly been moving, everything looked the same outside. Finally the earth began to change a little, slipping up or down. Bluffs and small cliffs popped up on either side. They would have made excellent look outs for the Native Americans who had once lived on the land.

It was kind of peaceful actually. The light rain made everything look an even deeper green. Nuada kept his eyes out the window, savoring it. If only he could just throw this door open and jump from the vehicle. To hell with his injuries; he could bolt for the fields and never be seen again.

He rubbed his left wrist hard, tugging at the tracking bracelet that was locked onto him. He remembered the shock it could give him as well. He wouldn't get two feet before someone pushed that button…

"Here!" Lydia says, pointing to a dirt road that broke off the pavement. Hellboy came to a screeching stop making the trio lurch forwards in their seats.

"Fuck!" He winced and Lydia rubbed her shoulder. "You're ok." She assures him. No one had been behind them thankfully.

Hellboy kept the van parked in the middle of the road a moment as he and Lydia squinted at an old looking sign posted by the dirt road.

"Fortune telling and seances like nowhere else! You won't be disappointed! Not for the faint of heart. $60 per person, price non-negotiable. Worth every penny!"

"That seems excessive." Hellboy says as he turns into the dirt road.

"Money is no object thankfully." Lydia says as she keeps an eye out for anything as they drove down the road. More cornfields on either side of them, closer now and making her feel boxed in. Thankfully the road wasn't long and an old, falling apart farmhouse came into view.

Hellboy pulled the van up by an old, dead tree and Lydia put it into park for him and turned off the ignition.

"Creepy." She observes.

Good thing that kinda thing doesn't bother us." Hellboy smirks.

The three got out of the van and stretched a moment. The rain was getting heavier and the sky was getting darker. Lydia quickly went up the old creaking steps into the wrap around porch. She waited for Hellboy and Nuada to be right behind her before she gave the front door a few good, hard knocks.

Just a half-hour earlier

When Rose had found the old hairpin in a crack between the floorboards she almost lost her composure. She'd been slipping away to bed the night before, late like always because she did all the cleaning up after dinner. Her uncle had been in the den, smoking and reading a book, so she had to be discreet about it. She pretended to trip on her chain -which of course awarded her with cruel jokes and chastising from her uncle- but it was just enough. She pried the pin out and found her footing again before slipping away to the closet under the stairs. It had been her bedroom for the whole ten years she'd lived here. Her aunt had said it was the only space she had for Rose; apparently her cousins refused to let her bunk with them in their rooms and there was no sofa to sleep on.

It was small and cramped but it was Rose's little slice of solitude.

She slipped into the closet and shut the door behind her, stuffing an old rag into the hole where the doorknob should be. One good thing about using the closet as a bedroom, is there was a heating vent right in the corner. Rose could hear every word said in every room of the house, and she waited until she heard everyone go to bed and kept waiting to make sure they were all asleep.

Finally, the only sounds she could hear was the creaking of the house settling and the furnace in the basement kicking in.

In the closet there was only a small lamp to see by and it's batteries were getting low. The light was dim and flickering and Rose was worried it wouldn't last long enough for her to pick the lock on her shackled leg.

She fumbled with the hair pin, slipping it into the keyhole and twisting it around. Damn it, this used to be so easy…picking locks wasn't that hard!

She was getting frustrated and desperate and her hands began shaking and forcing the pin roughly.

She lost her grip and it popped out of the keyhole,

Rose bit her tongue to keep from screaming every curse she knew. And of course, because someone up there must have a vendetta against her, her lamp died out, leaving her in the pitch dark.

"Damnit damnit damnit!" Rose hisses as she gritted her teeth.

Her fingers run along the floorboards in desperation, praying and begging under her breath. Her little closet room had never felt so vast before. The night had already passed and she was beginning to hear birds chirping outside. Once the sun was up, she might have a chance of seeing the floor, but she also had a very high risk of being spotted and caught again if she ran.

For once Rose wished a ghost would just help her for once! Sure, they came around when they needed something from her, but God forbid they could ever give her something in return!

Yeah, come around and drain my energy. Leave your ugly feelings inside of me when I channel you and give your messages to loved ones. Can't a single one of you just pick up a hairpin and fucking shove it in my hand?!

Cold metal. Her fingertips barely register it at first, but it was there. Rose scrambles up the pin feeling her heart begin to pound so loudly she wondered if she would wake up the entire household.

This time she forces herself to be steady and slow with it. If she lost the pin again she was screwed.

Click

The lock twisted and popped off the shackle and clattered to the floor.

Rose gently removed the metal loop from her ankle and she rubbed the dark and bloodied ring it had left.

No time for that. She tells herself. She could take care of her injuries when she was Scott free.

She fumbled around in her closet a few moments more, pulling on socks and grabbing a pair of battered cowgirl boots before she slowly opened the closet door.

The first few bits of sunlight were peeking through the curtains, casting the house in a deep navy blue.

Her covered feet made little noise as she slowly scooted towards the kitchen. She'd have to leave through the backdoor because the lock on it was broken. The front door always stayed locked until her uncle got up, which would be any minute now. Farmers got up as the sun did.

As Rose reached the kitchen door she could hear the distant beep-beep-beep of an alarm clock upstairs and her heart wrenches.

In a panic she bolted out the door, stumbling and tripping as she pulled on her boots and she ran as fast as she could into the foggy early morning.

The door opened very quickly after Lydia knocked. An older, very scrawny woman stood in the doorway, wearing flannel, jeans and boots.

"Can I help you?" She asks.

"Yes, my brothers and I saw your sign out by the road, about having a psychic?" Lydia says, playing the part very well. Although this woman obviously wasn't convinced that Hellboy and Nuada were her brothers, glamor or none. However, she didn't mention it. In fact the word psychic almost made her look panicky. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, is this the wrong house?" Lydia asks quickly.

"No...ah, our meetings with my niece are typically by appointment only." The woman says.

"We could come back." Lydia suggested but she really hated to do that. One, the trip out here was long but two, most importantly, this woman was giving her a very bad feeling in the pot of her stomach. She seemed off somehow. Crooked.

"No, no...if you have an extra twenty per person, I think we can forgive you." The woman says.

Lydia did the math in her head. $60 per person with an extra $20 tacked on would be $240. Good thing the BPRD was government funded and had very deep pockets, she'd hate to pay that out of her own pocket for what might be a complete scam. She didn't flinch as she pulled out her wallet and counted out two hundred and forty dollars and handed it over. The woman took the time to count it of course before she smiles softly and held out her hand.

"My name's Bitsy Saunders, come on in."

Lydia shook it before stepping inside. The farmhouse was rustic and quaint. She looked around, spotting a small room sectioned off by thick, red drapes.

"Head in inside, Rosemary will be with you shortly." Bitsy says. Lydia slipped into the small room. It was dark and cozy with red drapes along the walls. Trinkets and talismans dangled from the ceiling. Nuada scoffs softly as he looks around. All junk just for show.

Hellboy hung back a little, peeking out from the curtain and keeping a close eye on Bitsy. Lydia hadn't been the only one to catch a funky feeling off the woman.

He narrowed his eyes as he watched the old woman go to the closet under the stairs and knock on the door.

"Rose we have clients." She hisses. "Get your lazy bones up!"

Apparently there was no answer from inside because Bitsy flings the door open and froze.

Hellboy slipped into the seance room and shook his head. "I think you just blew 240 bucks Lyd."

"Why do you say that?" Lydia was playing around with the lucky rabbits feet that dangled from the sides of the small round table.

As if on cue Bitsy blew in past the red curtain door looking pale. "I'm sorry but she's not feeling very well at all today."

I'm sorry to hear that." Lydia says, but she didn't believe a word of it. "You don't think I could just see her a moment? I only have a couple of questions to ask her."

"No! No...she's...my husband is taking her to town to see a doctor as we speak." Bitsy says. Something no one believed. There hadn't been any vehicles out front when they'd arrived and the house seemed completely empty save for Mrs. Saunders.

Lydia wasn't sure what she should do. Rosemary Moore could be laying dead somewhere for all she knew.

"You sure about that lady? You looked pretty surprised when you opened that closet. And please don't tell me that's your nieces bedroom." Hellboy scoffs.

Bitsy set her jaw and and shoves the curtain door open. "Please go."

"No refund?" Hellboy cocks his head, trying to get a rise out of this woman.

"Let's just go." Nuada scoffs as he slipped past Bitsy. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that she was still focused on Lydia and Hellboy, so he slipped towards the closet door that was still standing open.

"I said leave!" Bitsy was getting very agitated and Lydia grabbed Hellboy's arm.

"Let's go. She's not some monster you can beat in with your hand, she's an old woman." She whispers.

"Fine." Hellboy pulled away from Lydia and shoves past Bitsy and Lydia followed.

"Your niece run away for a good reason?" Nuada calls from the closet door.

Mrs. Saunders's eyes went wide as she saw him bent over looking into the small space and Lydia quickly joined him and she felt her blood starting to boil. It was a cramped, sorry excuse of a place to keep someone. It was obviously being lived in quite a bit.

"You have no right to be nosing around my house! I'm sorry if we're not rich like you fucking City folk and can afford a nice big house with a bedroom for everyone in it!" She yells. "Now get out before I call the police!"

Hellboy was glaring at the woman, feeling his blood rage in his veins. Even Nuada felt sick and angry. He could see the chain and shackles laying on the floor…the woman had been a prisoner…

Lydia grabbed both men by their shirt collars and drug them towards the front door.

"We'll see who will be calling the police on who!" She yells over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her.

"We can't just fucking leave." Hellboy hisses at her as she storms to the van.

"Why not? She's not here and there's nothing we can do." Lydia sighs. "The woman got away on her own and she's out there somewhere."

"So we just leave?" Hellboy growls. He rested his hands on top of the van, and his stone one was beginning to dent the metal as he gripped it too tight.

"Yeah Red. We leave." Lydia sighs.

By now it was pouring out, and blowing like hell. Hellboy and Nuada had discarded their glamor pendants. Red was driving again down the deserted road back to town, groaning and muttering to himself. This didn't feel right at all. Someone had to save that poor girl.

Lydia was sitting in back talking on the phone with Manning about the situation. "She's in the wind! I don't know what we can do now."

Nuada sat up front with Hellboy, arms crossed and watching out the window as the rain created rivers down glass. His stomach hadn't settled since he'd seen those chains on the closet floor. He couldn't understand why they'd keep their own niece locked away in such a fashion. Unless maybe she wasn't their niece...maybe some poor girl with a gift they'd kidnapped and abused?

He lets his head rest against the cold glass and he kept watching the scenery go by, dreading being back in the city. As he kept looking out his sharp vision seeing something moving along the road up ahead and he sits up straight again. Definitely a human but why were they walking along the road in this ungodly weather?

"Demon!" Nuada reaches out and grabbed Hellboy's arm, spooking him and making him swerve.

"Fuck! What the hell is your problem?" Hellboy growls after slamming on the breaks.

"Look!" Nuada points out the window where the human had stopped walking and turned around. Nuada opened his door and looked out; a young woman with long hair being whipped and matted in the wind. She was shaking hard, only wearing a thin nightgown, hooded sweater that had soaked through, and boots.

"Nuada get back in the van." Lydia calls as she stepped out. "It's better if I talk to her first."

Nuada hesitated but eventually complied.

Lyida had slipped on her thick coat and she quickly walked to the poor shivering woman. As she got closer, Lydia could feel her heart wrenching and she knew without asking who this must be standing in front of her.

"Are you Rosemary Moore?" Lydia asks over the wind and rain as she stepped closer. The young woman was about the same age as she was but she seemed younger and smaller. She was thin...too thin…

"Please…" the woman's voice was hoarse. "Please don't take me to my aunt."

"I promise you that won't happen. You'll never have to see her again." Lydia says.

"Who are you?" Rose shook out, looking Lydia up and down, glancing at the van.

"My name is Lydia Bellaire and I work with the BPRD." Lydia says as she gently took Rose by the arm. "You can't stay out here."

Rose swallowed hard as she followed Lydia to the van. She looks through the window and could see the driver. Big and red…

Lydia opens the van door and helps Rose into the backseat with her and noticed her staring at Hellboy.

Rose sat down shaking as she watched him. "Are...are you the Devil?" She softly asks. Hellboy chuckles softly as he shifted gears.

"No but don't feel bad. People ask me that all the time."

#hellboy the golden army #hellboy #hellboy 2008 #hellboy 2 #nuadasilverlance #nuada #nuada silverlance #princess nuala #nuala #liz sherman #abe sapien #OC #lovestory #fanfiction

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